Now she would be stuck in school all day, and for what? Why hadn’t she taken her father’s offer while she had the chance?
Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty…
How could she have been so stupid? She had been in a good mood for what? Maybe five minutes? So, of course, she just had to start believing her life was actually important, that anything she did might actually mean something. It couldn’t possibly be that she was just happy to have her father’s attention for half a second, or that she was still loopy on sleep deprivation at 5:28 a.m.
Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight…
Now, it felt as though nothing mattered again, like today was just another inconsequential day along the road to old age. Where was that sense of impending change? Where was that miraculous feeling she had had for just one fleeting moment, that her life was about to be full of adventure—that she was finally about to step into her destiny?
Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six…
Great, and, of course, as if she weren’t already miserable enough, Vinnie Esposito just had to be at the front door.
Thirty-seven.
“Mongol,” he said as she walked by.
“Peanut,” she replied, her foot crossing the threshold exactly as the first bell rang.
“Why the hell you call me ‘Peanut?’” Vinnie demanded, following her down the hallway. He hovered just inches behind her, as he always did, the very weight of his presence making her skin crawl.
Not that she was about to show it.
“I told you to Google it,” she snapped back.
Vinnie had called her ‘Mongol’ ever since the second grade, when a young and hopelessly misguided teacher had commented cheerfully—in front of the whole class, no less—that Sam had such an interesting look and was she, perhaps, Mongolian?
Sam had explained in tight-lipped embarrassment that her mother was Chinese and her father was, well, not—with Vinnie snickering maniacally in the back row throughout the entire affair. Sam had inherited her mother’s lush black hair, her father’s green eyes, and an exotic blend of facial features that was hard for the people of her New Jersey suburb to pin down. Vinnie had started calling her ‘Mongol’ after that, and unfortunately, the name had stuck.
In return, she called Vinnie ‘Peanut’ after the dog that had won the World’s Ugliest Dog Contest in 2014, a fact she had not let on to anyone, least of all Vinnie.
“How about I just beat it out of you?” he suggested.
He grabbed her shoulder, holding her back long enough to get in front of her and planting one heavy arm against the wall, leaning his body in threateningly, trapping her in the hallway just a few feet from their homeroom.
“Just hit me,” she said, staring straight into his eyes. “I’ll fall down and scream bloody murder, and when Miss Anderson comes out, I’ll get you expelled. I’ll miss your ugly face, of course, but I’ll do my best to get by. Come to think of it, I might report you for bullying anyway, whether you hit me or not.”
“You got no proof, Mongol,” he sneered back.
“Hall camera behind you says otherwise, Peanut. Are you going to move, or should I go ahead and call Miss Anderson out here?”
Vinnie glanced over his shoulder at the security camera and then glared at her a moment longer anyway, but Sam stared him down without flinching until he grudgingly removed his arm and let her by.
The second bell rang just as she stepped through the homeroom door.
? ? ?
“Now remember, even though this doesn’t count toward your grades, you still need to do your best. Your scores will be matched against those of comparable districts. If the scores here are significantly lower, the entire district will have to take the test again.”
There were several groans throughout the room as Miss Anderson walked up and down the aisles, placing scratch paper on each student’s desk.
“That’s right,” she said, nodding. “So do your best—unless you want to spend another two hours of your lives on this little exercise next week.”
What difference does it make? Sam thought glumly, but she had no intention of tanking it. If she didn’t do well on any test, even one that didn’t count, someone was bound to call her parents for a conference on ‘why our perfect Samantha is behaving erratically.’ Those conversations never ended well for her.
Miss Anderson finished handing out paper and started around the room again, this time with a box of Number 2 pencils.
“The test has three sections, each thirty-six minutes long. The first two sections have seventy-two multiple-choice questions. The final section has thirty-six short answers.”
Seventy-two questions, thirty-six minutes. No problem. No reading comprehension, that’s for sure. Not at thirty seconds per question. Probably math or logic or science.
Sam let herself grin just a little. Those were her best subjects.
Miss Anderson gave out the last pencil and started around with test booklets and answer sheets.
“Fill out your name on your answer sheet as soon as you receive it. Do not turn the test over until it is time to begin.”
S, oval nineteen. S is for Samantha. S is for student. Sam composed an acronym for ‘Samantha’ as she filled in each letter: S-A-M-A-N-T-H-A. Student… aggravated, answering, arbitrary… Student Aces Maniacally Arbitrary Numbskull Test, Having Answers.
“You will have exactly thirty-six minutes to complete this section.” Miss Anderson returned to the front of the classroom, where she waited until the second hand of the clock was on the number twelve.
“You may begin.”
Sam turned her test over.
1. Which color is the best color?
A) red
B) yellow
C) blue
D) purple
E) orange
Sam glanced around as a low murmur pervaded the classroom. Everyone was either staring at the test in confusion or leaning surreptitiously across the aisle to see if a neighbor knew the answer. As if there were an answer. What color is the best color? What kind of question was that?
Miss Anderson ignored them all. She just sat at her desk, reading.
OK, fine. Let’s see. Red means danger, so that’s out. Yellow is for cowards… don’t eat yellow snow… yeah, not yellow. Blue is for sky… water… blue eyes… blue jeans… maybe blue? Purple is for royalty. Nothing wrong with that, but this is America—not exactly popular here. Maybe that’s a trick? And orange… sunrises, sunsets… I guess caution signs are kind of orange? Seriously, what a stupid question. Who wrote this test, anyway?
Sam didn’t see why blue would be better than orange, but it was probably more popular, so she chose it on the theory that most standardized tests were not especially inventive.
2. Which of the following best describes humanity?
A) exciting
B) well-intentioned
C) innovative
D) predictable
E) resourceful