Note to self: learn social skills

Chaper 15

Exams. A word here meaning the ruthless, cruel, and inescapable torture of young minds everywhere. I'm not sure what lovely soul thought it would be a good idea to force teens to pulls all-nighters twice a year in the hopes of maintaining their passing school grades, but said person deserves the same fate that the inventor of gym class does. In fact, they may be one in the same.

This ritual persecution of us students takes place right before Christmas break. So, right before the second greatest joy of our academic year (the first being summer break), we have to spend countless hours bent over books that we didn't like in the first place, desperately trying to remember stuff that we didn't care about in the first place.

Or at least, that's what most people do. I, however, do not care to spend my time like this. Even before said dreading exam week, I prefer to place my trust in music, in hopes that I just play violin for all of my tests. This never happens, but a girl can dream.

Normally, exam week drags and drags until I'm going crazy by Friday. This year, however, it flies. Not because I'm suddenly in love with exams or because I'm adequately prepared. This time, it flies by because the thing I'm dreading most is not exams, but the after-exams. And so it comes quickly.

It is however, broken up by my landmark meeting with the councilor, who sits across her desk from me, looking at me from behind her rainbow colored reading glasses, a sympathetic look on her face.

"Katie, you're application for Julliard looks good." She says, handing it back to me, "But what other schools are you applying to?"

"I'm not." I reply simply.

She folds her hands and smiles like I'm a child who needs to be told one more time why sticking my finger in the light socket is a bad idea, "Katie... I understand that your dream is Julliard. But there are many other wonderful music schools all around the country. Why not apply to them?"

"Because they aren't Julliard."

She taps her finger against her bony knuckle, "Dear, I don't want to upset you, but let's just say that... for argument's sake, you don't get into Julliard. Then what?"

I blink. Not get into Julliard? Doesn't this lady know I've been taking violin lessons since I was five? That I practice every day without fail? That I get paid to teach other violin hopefuls? That I'm dating the bane of my existence for the express purpose of getting into Julliard?

"That's not an option." I finally say with a shuddered breath.

"It has to be an option, Katie. Thousands of violin students will apply and they'll only take a handful. What will you do if you don't get accepted?"

I stand up and grab my bag, "I'll be a school guidance councilor." I snap.

All things considered, I'd say that went well. Mom wasn't even mad when the principal called her about my errant behavior. She told him I was under a lot of stress and I think she may have made up a disease that I'm taking medicine for.

The end of the week does come. I finish filling in those stupid bubbles on my chemistry test, fairly certain that I've failed, and sigh. One week of torture down, three more to go.

I flip over my exam and look around. Hal is done and has been for some time. I heard his flamboyant flipping over of his booklet several minutes ago. He just had to make sure everyone knew he was done. Audrey is still working on hers, Chad has finished and is reading a biology book. For fun. James finishes and looks at me and grins.

"Yes!" he mouths, pumping his fist in the air.

I try to smile back, almost feeling his joy. For most students, this is it for three weeks. For me, I have to go to another type of school. And I'm not exactly looking forward to it.