Breathe

Chapter 11 - GPT

I walked out of the room. Phil followed suit. After the door closed, I turned to Phil, whose red face could at least muster a smile. "W-We did it!" he said, still sniffling yet holding his signature smile. "That means that we'll be able to go to school again!"

"If we pass the GPT," I corrected.

Slightly cocking his head, he asked, "That shouldn't be hard though, right, Al?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I wouldn't know." I didn't know what to expect.

Still, with his usual energy, he posed triumphantly. "Well, I'm sure we'll still make it! Somehow, at least. We just gotta try and it'll happen! ...probably. I'd like to think that." Letting his pose fall, he asked, "Anyway, I think we should head upstairs now. Better get this over and done with."

We headed through the hallways, dodging blank and somewhat interested stairs, and to the second floor. Then, we followed the signs and made it to room 210, which was located in an isolated hallway—quiet compared to the rest—at the end of the hall, where the only thing left was the class and a set of double doors that led to God knows where. Peeking through the window, we saw a room with tiled floors, almost empty if you excluded the man sitting at the desk in the far back and the few bored or confused kids staggered in the room.

I opened the door and made my way to the man. His eyes were already intensely on us from when we opened the door. Like the secretary office, the room had a familiar scent—metals mixed with sweat—that I didn't know what to make of. Still, I ignored the unfamiliar familiarity and stopped at his desk, right in front of him.

Handing him the slip, I said, "We're here to take the GPT." He leered up at me. "Miss Jones told us to say that," I added.

He took the note and placed it in the trash. Then, he opened a drawer, which had neatly placed files. "What grade?" he asked.

"Twelfth."

More rustling. Soon, he found what he was looking for (which were two rather big packets that were wrapped in plastic) and handed it to us. Phil and I took one. Then, he pointed at the rest of the desks. "Choose seats that aren't next to anyone else." Glancing at the clock, he added, "You have until lunch to finish this test."

"When's lunch?" Phil asked innocently, for good reason.

Yet the man still kept an intense, almost glare-like stare. "12:25."

Idiotically, Phil further asked with a laugh, "Is that A.M. or P.M.?"

"Army time," the man said with an annoyed tone.

Phil crunched his shoulders and nervously laughed. "Ha, okay. Thanks," he said and then walked away. Likewise, I did the same.

After I found a seat, I sat down and put my bag down next to me. Unzipping it, I took out two pencils, an eraser, and a pencil sharpener. Then, I tore the plastic wrapping off the packet and opened it. Flipping through its pages, I noticed that the test contained four subjects: maths, sciences, social studies, and Libetian.

Turning to the first section—maths—I began working. The section was fairly easy, with questions ranging from simple linear problems to physics, but not including anything remotely difficult like the concept of rigid bodies or relativity. After I finished that section, I turned to the next one: sciences. This also included physics—but to a higher degree—and simple chemistry and biology concepts such as stoichiometry and parts of the human body. Again, I finished it and then I carried on to social studies. Unsurprisingly, there wasn't much to this section—the questions only covered the non-controversial topics, which aren't aplenty. Next was the Libetian section, which was practically a joke. Not saying that the test designers are idiotic or underestimate our intelligence to the highest degree, but this section took less time than the social studies one, and that one had stupid questions like, "What is the name of the Royal Family?" Really stupid questions, yet not as dumb as the questions on our language.

After I circled my answer to the last question, I dropped my pencil and went over to the desk, ready to hand in the test. He looked at me with a perplexed look—which in itself was rather pleasing—as he stared at me with the closed book in hand.

"Do you have a question?" he asked.

"No," I replied, "I'm here to turn in my test."

He chuckled. "Did you forget that much material?"

"Forget?" I repeated, pitch raised. "No, I answered all of the questions."

"I doubt that," he said. Snatching the test from my hands, he flipped through the pages. And as he did, that smirk on his face began to falter. And falter. And then, it was nonexistent. He looked at the clock with shock. "It's only been an hour," was all he said.

"May I have permission to go somewhere else?"

He looked at me. "And where's that? I'm not allowed to let you go to any of your classes until your test is checked."

"I don't want to go to any classes—I want to go to the library," I affirmed. Glancing at the clock, I added, "I don't want to sit in here idly for three more hours."

Murmuring under his breath, he opened a drawer—a different drawer—and took out a packet of pink slips. Jolting a few words on it, he handed it to me. "There, library pass."

I nodded in thanks. "Thank you," I said. I took my things from underneath my desk and made my way to the door.

But before I could leave, I heard the man say, "Remember to come back by 13:00!" I turned around. He was pointing at my test. "This should be graded by then."

"Understood," I said with a nod. Then, without another word, I left.

~.:.~~.:.~~.:.~

10/17/17: Aaand, it's finished! Huzzah! You know what? This is a first in a while—I mean, how often is it that I post on my scheduled date? I'll tell you: not very often. Which is sad, but you know... life doesn't often work with a schedule.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! If you liked it, please vote, comment—everything and anything helps. Thank you, and I hope you keep reading!