The Geek Revolution ✓

56 | secret

"WE'RE HOME FREE, BITCHES!" DELANEY whoops gleefully.

The students who sat for AP English walk out of the exam hall in a line, Delaney and Callum to my left, Riley and Wyn — from the other class stream — to my right. Exam supervisors in fluorescent yellow vests monitor us leaving, issuing strict scoldings to those who talk because there are still classes in session. With her cheerful exclamation, Delaney has drawn the piercing stares of several.

"We're only home free for, like, four days. Then the Chem kids have their exam on Monday," Callum corrects Delaney in a hushed whisper.

She scowls, poking her tongue out pugnaciously. "Party pooper."

The AP English exam, my first of the year, was gruelling. As my fellow seniors file out in a silent, tense manner, the general consensus seems to be one of anxiety. Anxious to discuss with peers how we performed. Anxious to destress. Anxious to know the results, though they won't be received till the summer holiday.

When we are safely out of the building, and the supervisors' earshot, the questions begin in earnest. "How did you guys find it?"

"What the hell was the poem about? I couldn't find a link anywhere."

"If I only filled out the first page, do you think I'll pass?" That was Callum.

In the balmy afternoon warmth, my friends and I begin the walk to the Stereo Shack in town. It's an impromptu hangout for various reasons — debriefing the English exam, getting lunch, using the free WiFi to study for whatever our next exams are. Mine is AP Bio.

The rustic interior of the Shack has been spruced up for the near arrival of summer. Spherical paper lanterns in a tropical colour schematic have been hung over the lines of fairy lights that usually glisten uncovered. A new line of summer-themed smoothies has been released. As the rest of Carsonville welcomes summer with open arms, I can't help but concentrate on the exams that barricade me from freedom.

"I did exactly as I expected," Callum states proudly, "Abysmally."

"I think I did great. I feel great," Delaney states. Unsurprising, seeing as English is indubitably her strongest subject.

"But that poem was really generic. What did you do for the analysis?" I wonder.

"I just bullshitted about how the author's flighty and dismissive observations about his surroundings and the detached narration aims to describe his nihilistic view of the world. Something like that. I honestly have no fucking clue if that's correct, but with English, if you bullshit with utter confidence, you'll be fine."

"Girl, way to shit on our self-esteem," Riley mutters dejectedly, resting her chin on her palm.

"Oh, honey," Delaney loops her arm around Riley's shoulders and squeezes sympathetically. "It's over now. No point in thinking about the past. Come on, let's order lunch everyone. My shout."

After rattling off our orders to Delaney, she turns to Wyn. She's had her nose buried in her AP Art History notes since we first chose a booth. She got accepted into a university in New York City, and deservingly too, considering how hard she always focuses on her studies. "Wyn. Wyn!" Delaney snaps her fingers in front of her, "Your lunch order?"

"Egg and ham quiche, and a mocha please."

Delaney departs to the counter to order. Riley, Callum, and I are left to discuss further how we did in the exam, with Wyn silently revising next to us. It's odd to see her still so obsessed with studying since she's always had a handle on her classes. Unlike me, Wyn knows exactly what she wants to do with her life. Photography in a big city, working her way through all the grungy art galleries and museum shows to stardom.