One-off Stories

Test

He rolled his eyes, audibly sighing. The cold plastic pressed against his back, his arms folded on the cold wood. Testing day, of course. His head lay in his arms, he forcing himself to not sleep on the desk.
Everybody's hands silently moved, filling in the small circle to answer various questions. Meanwhile, the young teen hadn't a certain writing tool. A number two pencil.
His hand drifted into his back pocket, a nervous sweat rolling down his forehead. This is such a taboo. What if somebody found out? Would he be punished for the ultimate crime?
He pulled out a pen.
And then filled in the bubbles with it. 'Oh god, this is it, I'm going to die.' His mind ran a mile per hour, his hand shaking as the pen touched paper. He circled in an answer, his body screaming at him to turn back. No, but it's too late.
One minute turned into five, as he had only filled out one answer. Oh god, oh god, oh god! He had only fifteen minutes left, and he's using a pen! He's dead, dead, dead, DEAD.
He screamed mentally, as he filled out another three questions. Oh no.
And just before the bell rang, he finished his quiz. The teacher walked up to the center of the class, collecting papers, as she smiled happily. That fool, why is she smiling, had she not realized WHAT he had done?!
She took his paper, a confused glance looking down at the nervous and sweating boy. "Mr. Mason, are you oka--" She was cut off, as the boy screamed, "Can I go to the bathroom?!" She flinched at his volume. "Y-Yes, you may." He ran from his desk and out the classroom.
The class looked around. Just another normal day.