Summer Recollections #2 - Final Exams

 

            I was already sweating by the time I reached the doors to my high school for the last time.  It took my eyes a minute to adjust to the darkness of the hallways, but it didn’t matter much.  I could navigate the halls blindfolded if needed, and there wasn’t much left to see – lockers stood empty and gaping with no locks to keep them closed, all the posters had been taken down from the walls, and there were few students milling around as many didn’t need to come in for the last day of exams.  I was halfway to my locker by my first-period physics class (my former physics class, I reminded myself) when I remembered I had cleaned out my locker days ago.  I walked that way anyway, continuing past my erstwhile physics classroom to my still-current English room.

            Jessie was already there, sitting on the floor outside the door, flipping fervently through her battered red binder.  I flopped down beside her, pushing my wet hair off my face.

            “What was that guy’s name?” she asked urgently.  I stared at her blankly while she stared past me as though she was looking at the guy whose name escaped her.  “You know, Hamlet’s buddy.  Rosencrantz and the other guy.”

            “Oh.”  I hadn’t even brought my English binder to check my notes.  “Guildstein?  I don’t know, I don’t think it’s important.”  Jessie shook her head in disbelief.

            “Not important?  Bella, you know half of the exam is going to be about Hamlet!”  Jessie turned back to her binder, now flipping the pages fast enough that they were in danger of ripping and certainly too fast for her to be able to read anything.

            “Look, we’ve both been accepted to university and have good enough marks in English.  Even if we fail the exam I’m pretty sure it’s mathematically impossible for our marks to drop that far.”  I thought my reasoning was sound, but Jessie didn’t look impressed.

            “Yeah, says the girl who dropped out of statistics,” she muttered.  Before I had time to explain that I had dropped statistics for scheduling reasons and not because I had no idea what a standard deviation was the door to our classroom opened.  We scrambled to our feet and followed the rest of our classmates into the stuffy room.  Jessie and I went to our usual seats at the back.  Jessie immediately opened her binder again while I looked around the room at everyone else.  It was strange to think I wouldn’t see most of them again, even though I had seen many of them daily for years.  Strange that our last meeting should be us silently trying to remember the names of Hamlet characters side by side.

            Mrs Woods came into the room last, face red and frizzy hair rapidly escaping its bun.  She checked the clock in alarm, though I’m pretty sure it was running fast, and started handing out exams face-down.  I got out a pencil, a back-up pencil, and my pumpkin eraser that had lasted through the last three years of high school.  It was a testament to both the lack of mistakes I made and how possessive I was of my school supplies.

            “Open the window, would you Tom?”  Mrs Woods’ voice cut through my thoughts.  There was a sad squeak as Tom opened the pitifully small window on the other side of the room.  I watched with envy as Carla’s hair blew in the breeze from her coveted seat next to the window.  Carla gave a sigh of satisfaction, a smug smirk on her face.  She was one person I wouldn’t miss.

            “You may begin.  You have two hours.”  Mrs Woods declared once Tom had returned to his seat.  I flipped over the exam where I was happy to find that the first question wasn’t about Hamlet.  I was describing an example of symbolism from a book that wasn’t Hamlet when a car alarm went off, seemingly right outside our classroom.  Half the class jumped, then tried to return to their papers.  However, the alarm kept blaring, and more and more eyes left their exams to glare out the window.  After a full minute, it was Tom who broke first.

            “Fuck!” he yelled.  He strode over to the window and slammed it shut, muting but not eliminating the beeping.  Mrs Woods didn’t bother remonstrating him for his language, but Carla did give a little moan of despair at losing her breeze.  With my face still wet with sweat and my hand sticking to my paper I almost felt bad for her.  Never mind, two more hours and I’d be in Jessie’s pool.  I moved on to the next question, about Rosencrantz and Guildenstern – aha, I had been close.

 

            “Pencils down, please!”  I threw my pencil down in triumph even though I was halfway through a sentence.  I looked with some disappointment at the empty desk next to me – Jessie always finished exams offensively early.  Mrs Woods picked up my exam and I put my two pencils and pumpkin eraser back into my pencil case and dropped the pencil case into my otherwise empty backpack.  Rubbing my hand, I went back out into the hall, which was slightly less stuffy than the crowded classroom.  I paused at a water fountain to try to replenish all of the water I had sweated out in the last two hours, but the stream of water was pitiful and lukewarm.  I focused again on how nice it would feel to slip into the cool water of Jessie’s pool as I made my way downstairs.

            I was almost at the front doors when I heard a voice call my name.  I turned back to see Andy waving at me with an ornate lamp he had clearly made in woodshop.  I walked back to him, not minding the delay despite my yearning for the pool.

            “Hey Andy.  Nice lamp.”  Andy held it out for my inspection.

            “You’d better believe it.  I got 98% for my final project.”  I laughed.

            “98?  What happened to the other two percent?”  Andy shrugged.

            “Gotta have something to aim for next year.  But not for you, I guess you’re done now?”  He sounded almost amazed, like the idea of actually leaving this place was such a distant and impossible thought.  I tried to play it cool despite the oppressive heat.

            “Yep, no more having to put up with you and Stefan in French class.  But mainly you.”

            “Mainly me you’ll miss, right?”  Before I could continue our banter, a woman’s voice called to Andy from the main doors.  A middle-aged woman with Andy’s small dark eyes and soft dark hair.  I stood awkwardly to the side as Andy greeted his mother and showed her his lamp.  He introduced me and she and I nodded to each other.  There wasn’t much point in getting to know each other – Andy and I wouldn’t see each other again and we were only casual friends anyway.  Before I knew it Andy was walking away with a final wave over his shoulder.  I stood in the hall by myself for a moment.  That was it – my last conversation with Andy.  I couldn’t even keep in touch with him if I wanted to – I didn’t have his phone number or even an e-mail address.  My back was starting to sweat where my backpack sat against it, so with a shake of my head I made my way outside.  There, Andy and his mother were long gone and the sun still beat down without mercy.  I didn’t bother turning around as I made my way into the parking lot.  I wasn’t going to forget what my high school looked like, after all.