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It was a tie.
I’ve never tied with someone before.
I don’t know how to feel about it, besidesregretfor not being responsible and fighting my destructive instincts. Is there a way to know at what age I’m supposed to control myself? Because I’m nineteen and I still have the mouth filter of a four-year-old with ADHD. My mother surely didn’t think that I was going to turn out this way.
Stanley buffs behind me when I lean to the right, covering the panoramic view he had of my paper. A smirk crosses my face, knowing that I have the upper hand now. Or at least a small advantage considering that I’m practically the size of a dwarf next to him, so I barely block his sight.
I try my hardest to concentrate on the sheet of paper in front of my eyes. It’s full of hieroglyphics that I don’t understand, but I do my best. Repressing the temptation of putting a few answers wrong, I bite the inside of my cheek. There’s no way that I’m passing this test with a good grade. Hell, I’ll be lucky if I even get apassinggrade. I’m not risking it. No matter how much I want him to get a taste of his own medicine, which he’s still going to get.
My head is close to exploding, constantly beating, feeling every sound drill my skull with a painful stab to the temple. I’m tired and dehydrated, showing off dark eye bags that furrow my face. The lack of sleep is taking over, making my eyelids heavy while reading the questions on the paper. There’s a constant hammering inside my brain, and the words clump together, forcing me to blink frequently as I do my best to stay focused and comprehend the test.
Looking at the test, the questions keep mixing with the others, my mind getting absorbed into a spiral that erased any chemical knowledge from my brain. Frustration takes over because I know that I’ve seen and read the topics mentioned, but not a single memory of the process jumps to save my ass. The only thing that I know for sure is that I’m the first to finish the test. Putting the pen in the back pocket of my jeans, I walk instinctively towards the wooden desk where the Harpy is sitting, and I turn in the exam.
Professor Byrne always corrects the tests when we turn it in, so we can’t leave the room until she’s done. It’s her way of making us suffer more than we already do. A new method of torture invented by her.
My eyes travel towards the blond guy who copied my answers without knowing that I’m the worst in the subject. He’s frowning so deep that his eyebrows are almost touching each other, and he licks his lips in concentration.
I translate it differently.
His whole expression screams that he doesn’t understand shit of what’s in the paper. I know it because I had the same one.
“Here you go. Now leave,” Byrne dismisses me, handing me the folded test, hiding the result from my eyes and the others that surround us.
What a sweetheart,I think, as I suppress the superhuman need to roll my eyes, grabbing the test from the other end of the paper. I offer her a smile when I catch her disappointed glare. The Harpy is undoubtedly tired of having dumb students who don’t get whatever she’s supposed to teach us. Of havingmeas her student. However, every effort I make to seem excited and content with the result is an act to make Stanley believe that he can trust the answers he copied.
The pleasant surprise he’s going to get when he gets his test back will be my payback. I can almost sense the sweet taste of satisfaction on the tip of my tongue. He’s going to take a sip of his own medicine.
Hell, I even wink at him to make it seem like everything is going great.
The reality is far different from what I’m trying to make it. Honestly, I only knew my name because I had to double-check my student number.
Dragging my feet outside the classroom with my backpack over my shoulder, I maintain the façade until I reach the hallway. Walking away from the door, I unfold the paper with shaky fingers. I’m so nervous that the sheet gets slightly humid with the swear coming from the palm of my hands.
“Lord, I know I’m not devoted, but please make me the miracle,” I plead in a whisper as I convince myself to see the grade.
There is no miracle.
In the top left corner, there’s a huge “F” written in red ink. The punctuation is fifty-seven percent.Well, fuck me.I curse under my breath as my eyes roam over the paper, absorbing my mistakes. I even got wrong the ones that I answered confidently. My whole paper is crucified with ink. This is it. I’m going to end up repeating the class. There’s no way that I can make up for this and reach a passing grade.
My only hope is to continue cheating on the assignments. Even if it’s not technically the best and ethical option. I’m not willing to pay hundreds to retake the same class. My luck isn’t going to save me from this professor again.
Groaning, I shove the test inside my backpack, hoping never to see it again. Frustration starts blooming in my belly, settling in my stomach as minutes pass by. I’m mad at myself for not being able to handle courses that are supposed to be of general knowledge. I passed high school chemistry—barely, but I did it. Why is it so complicated for me now?
“Wait!”
Even when I’m on the verge of crying in the middle of the hallway, a smirk sneaks into my face when I hear Stanley’s voice. His slightly raspy voice is full of rage and anger that’s directed towards me. I turn on my heels with a smug expression. Satisfaction flows through my veins; the sensation is gratifying. I may be the smallest one out of the two of us, but at this precise moment, I’m huge. My ego has blown up, power rushing in my system when I realize that karma punched him in the guts.
For a split second, I’m afraid that his whole head is going to explode. The skin covering his face is as red as a tomato, the blush expanding to his ears and neck, getting lost in the hem of his blue hoodie. On his right hand, Stanley is holding the wrinkled test, probably picturing my neck instead.
However, no one told him to take advantage of people. If he weren’t the king of campus, maybe he would study.
“Good morning, Stanley. How are you today after that hangover?” I chirp in the softest and sweetest tone that I can come up with at this time in the morning. Knowing that he’s mad at me is what inspires me to behave this way.
He scoffs. I can almost hear his teeth creak together as he clenches his jaw. The muscles of his arms tense under the soft fabric of his hoodie.
“Cut the bullshit. You did it on purpose,” he accuses and purses his lips together.
Yes, darling, I didn’t tell you that I know shit of chemistry on purpose because I hated the shameless way you asked if you could copy from me.
