Not like you

Everything was so loud. Too loud. Constant whispering behind her. The teacher in front talking nonstop, as if anybody else cared. The silence surrounding her. It was unbearable. And so tiring too.
No matter how much she slept, she always felt tired. All this constant noise was just adding to the exhaustion and frustration she felt growing by the minute. Ava was about to ask permission to escape to the restroom, just as the bell rang.

As if on cue, sounds of books could be heard being stuffed around hectically. She seemed to have joined as she felt herself get up from her seat just as fast.
She felt like a robot, automatically changing out her books for the next subject. Mathematics. Ava thought she was forgetting something, until some girl from her class, Emma, she believed, caught up with her.

“So, excited about the exam?”, she asked.
The exam. So that’s what she was forgetting.
Ava didn’t know if the question was meant jokingly, so she just answered with a positive.
“And you?”
“Yeah, totally”, the girl, Emma, said, this time clearly in a sarcastic manner.

Both continued on in silence, a relief for the star student. However, it didn’t last long as the chatter of students in the classroom they entered left no place for quiet. Soon after, the teacher arrived, and the noise died out once he began speaking.

“Good morning, class”, he called out. Then continued after the students greeted him back with a collective ‘Good morning, Mr. Allen’.
“As you all know, it’s exam day, so we’ll just go over it for a moment to clear up any misunderstandings, and I’ll let you get on with your exam”, he announced, and began handing out papers.

At first glance, it seemed like the teacher had used the most difficult examples he could find, judging from the illustrations beside the questions. But reading the questions themselves washed away any worry Ava had, they were quite simple. This was going to be an easy A+.


Ava continued staring at her mark on her way home after school.
‘Mark: 72/72’
A full score. That’s what she’d said when the others asked about it.

“Oh, you know, not too bad. Only a full score.'”

It somehow felt amazing to shove it into their faces, that she was better than them. She thought it was weird, since she never really was one to boast about her success. But what does it matter? She got a perfect grade, she is that good.

Distantly, she wondered if all the annoying headaches and the unrelenting exhaustion was worth it in the end. A memory came to mind.

“Mom, dad, look! I got a full score!”, she’d shouted, overjoyed at her achievement. It was one of her first ever. She remembered the looks on their faces, so proud of their daughter.

All she wanted was to see that look again.