One Hundred

Chapter Four

At 8:30 I leave for school. It is a fifteen minute walk and by the time I arrive, my best friend, Lisa is already there, waiting at the gate. I have known Lisa since I was four and we went to kindergarten together. Lisa has fair skin and long blonde hair that she characteristically wears in two long braids making her look like the high school sweetheart that she truly is. She is also absolutely petrified of tests. Even in first grade, when made to recite the alphabet in front of the class, she would become very pale and burst into tears.

“Hi Lisa”

“Hi Aida” says Lisa, looking terrified. “I really don’t want to do this”

“Nonsense, you’ll be fine – and once this is over, remember – this is the last test you’ll ever do.”

Lisa nods unconvincingly, but I think a tear is welling up in one of her eyes already.

At 08:45am, our teacher, Miss Tinkler arrives, looking more strained than usual. At this point, groups of students are nervously milling outside our classroom. Some are clutching notes in a desperate attempt at last minute revision. Behind Miss Tinkler are three other members of staff – Mr Toft, Mrs Briggs and Mrs Macdonald. They are carrying sealed cardboard boxes, which I can only imagine hold the exam papers. They unlock the classroom and head inside. Through the windows, we can see that the chairs inside have been moved into the examination format, with each chair separated by a good three feet from its neighbour.

“I think I’m going to be sick’ says Lisa, looking a shade greener.

I have been attempting to tutor Lisa for a few months now, but despite this her nerves always seemed to get in the way on the day of any exam. During our practice aptitudes, she worked herself into such a state that she spent the first twenty minutes of the test hyperventilating. I know this because I was sitting behind her and witnessed Miss Tinkler bringing her a brown paper bag to breathe into. Despite my reassurance I am truly worried. I certainly don’t want my best friend to be forced to become a servant girl to the alphas in the New City.

After what feels like a very long time, Miss Tinkler steps out and says “Alright boys and girls, you may now enter the classroom. Remember that as this is an examination, there will be no talking once inside. Please remember that your writing equipment must be displayed in a clear plastic container. Any calculators will be confiscated.” The tension in the air rises one notch higher and a general hush falls upon the class.  We walk into the classroom and take our seats. I sit near the front of the class, so that the only thing in my view is the blackboard and the teachers, who will be supervising. To my right, sits Claudine, the local beauty queen and to my left sits Titus, the enigma. He was transferred to our school two years ago, but has barely made a single friend. I have, however spent enough time with him to know that his passion is chemistry, even though this is certainly not one of the ‘One hundred and fifty possible career paths for boys and girls of the sub type’ listed in our career manual. I also know that he likes to work out a lot, as if in preparation for an imaginary and gruelling triathlon. Despite being an academic type, he is often seen running around the oval before school, or lifting weights in the school gym, with a strange intensity. Titus looks over at me and raises his eyebrows. He looks very tired, and his green eyes are uncharacteristically dull. I wonder if he’s pulled an all-nighter, although he certainly wouldn’t need to. Like me, he also tends to get perfect scores without really trying.

I look up at the white, generic clock on the wall and see that the time is five to nine. Miss Tinkler comes into view again. In her best academic voice, she says “On your desks, you have your examination booklets. Please make sure that you have two booklets. There should be a booklet for English, Mathematics, Logic and Intelligence. Alert one of the teaching staff immediately if you do not have all four. You are permitted to have pencils, black pens, a rubber and a ruler. All other equipment will be confiscated. You are to commence the examination at the first bell. I will ring the bell at ten minutes prior to the end and then again at the end of the examination.”

I watch the hands of the lock inch closer and closer to nine o’clock. At nine, precisely, Miss Tinkler boldly rings a small brass bell.

“You may now open your examination booklets. You may complete the booklets in any order. You have three hours.

I have decided to tackle the booklets in order of my strengths, so as to complete my best subjects first and my worst ones last. I reach for the booklet labelled ‘English’ and flick through quickly. There is only one question. An essay.

‘Dreams, desires, obsessions and dark imaginings. Write on this theme using any style of writing. No word limit’

 Very interesting. I wonder if they are going to be prepared for an influx of school girl diary entries about unrequited love. There are many things that I could write about but whenever I have a dream and remember it the next day, it’s the same one every time. It is about a strange army of children. This is an army that I have never seen before in real life. They are physically beautiful and compelling. They are marching in unison, until they begin to fall one by one.

 Within forty-five minutes, my essay is completed to my satisfaction and I move on to the other booklets. I don’t find these overly difficult, either and at 11:00 am when the bell rings again, I have just answered the last question. Glassy eyed, I look around the room.

“What did you write about in your essay?” asks Titus

“Wanting a good year in milking” I answer, “what did you write about in yours?”

“Potato farming. How about you, Claudine?”

“A boy I like” she says, giving Titus what she probably considers a sultry expression.

“I’m sure it fits the bill.” I say to Claudine, furrowing my eyebrows. If there’s one thing Titus didn’t write about, it was potato farming.

 “I would like for you to remain seated until all examination papers are collected.” Said Miss Tinkler.

The room is visibly much more relaxed than this morning. I can see some of my classmates chatting more easily amongst themselves, although some look upset. I look around for Lisa, who is sitting silently and is still a shade of green. I walk over to her desk.

“ So, did you answer the questions OK?” I ask

 “That was terrible” Lisa says

“At least it’s done now…”

“Not really, I’ve just realised that there as a whole page of multiple choice maths questions that I never went back to in the end…” Lisa gasps and tears stream down her face.

“Hey,” I say, “What’s the worst that can happen now? You might just end up working on our dairy farm with us. I bet that’s where I’ll be ending up anyway” I say.  “Let’s go back to my house and my grandfather will make us a milkshake.”

We make a slow walk back along the dirt path and we’re greeted at the gate by Tom.

“How did you go?” asks Tom, looking quizzically at Lisa’s tear streaked face.

“I think we’d rather not talk about it” I say, “but we sure could do with one of grandad’s milkshakes.”

“Are you sure you don’t need something stronger” asks Tom

In the house, pop is between milkings and instantly knows what to do after appraising Lisa. He cooks up some bacon and toast and whizzes up two chocolate milkshakes into tall, old fashioned glasses.

“There you go Lisa. There you go Aida. Now excuse me, because I think it’s time for the third milking now. Aida, you are excused for the day, seeing as you’ve just had your exam.”

We sit on the porch and drink our shakes in silence until the sun slowly goes down.

“Alright Aida, I’d better go” says Lisa with a sigh, “thanks for the shake.”

Lisa heads out towards the main road and I wave goodbye.

“See you tomorrow” I say.