The Final Test

By Mollie Schofield, TIWP student

“Today is your final test. You will be given one hour, nothing more, nothing less. It’s simple, if you pass you live, and if you dare fail,” she took a slight pause pressing her lips together, “then you will be sent to the shutter for execution.” She lifted a stack of papers off her desk, licking her pointer finger and pinching a sheet of paper to place on someone’s desk. Had I studied enough? Did I prepare myself for what’s on that paper? My thoughts clouded my mind. She walked over to “Miss Perfect” and placed the paper on her desk. The teacher finally came over to my row and handed me the paper.

The hour flew by faster than I could’ve imagined, but I was finally done after checking over my answers about one hundred times. Just as I was handing her back my paper the doors burst open and about ten people in black suits walked in. The teacher grinned and her eyes widened as she saw them. Ladies and gentlemen, your test has been submitted and is going to be scanned right before your eyes.

She took the first paper off the stack and called out, “Oak.”

A small girl in the front row stood up. Her brown braids tied together with bows lay neatly on her bright blue dress. She wore knee-high socks that were drenched in lace and the same shoes as my mother’s new daughter.

“Yes Ma’am,” she called back, her voice cracking. The scanner beeped and it meant that her test was done.

The teacher took it out quickly and called, “Fail!”

The girl was immediately lifted off her feet and submerged into a brown bag. She kicked through the bag screaming for help but the black-suited people refused to let her resist. They jerked the door open and everyone listened as her shrieks got quieter and quieter.

“Alrighty who’s next.” I looked up at the front of the class room, disturbed. The teacher laughed, unable to wait to call out the next person. More and more people continued to be taken as the day dragged on. “Rose,” the teacher called out. My mother’s new daughter stood up. She looked around the room and tapped her nails together. “Pass,” screeched the teacher.

Her face softened and she tried to force her smile to stay on her mouth as she walked over to the corner of students who had passed.

“Ember,” the teacher stared at me as she lifted my paper off the test corrector. She smiled then frowned, then smiled again, and frowned once more. She tapped her finger across the paper, swinging her long skirt from side to side. She slowly approached me and bent down right beside me.

“Do you know what it says?” she asked.

“No, I don’t,” I replied.

“Well let me tell you.” She crossed her legs and tapped her chin with her long blue nails. She leaned over in my ear, hovering above my shoulder. My whole body was shaking and I could hear my heart beating out of my chest as she breathed onto my neck. Then slowly and softly she whispered, “Pass.”

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