The teacher entered our room with a thick bundle of papers held closely to her chest.

'Good Morning class!'

In response, we stood from our seats. 'Good Morning, Teacher Emma!' we said, as we bow our heads.

A pause.

This type of greeting is the norm of this school. It's been taught to us as early as preschool. Sometimes the teacher would play around and pause as we said our good mornings; that silence was a killer. This was one of those days. As kids, we didn't know if they were genuinely pissed, or if someone's going to get the boot.

'Please sit down.'

'Thank you, Teacher Emma.' the class said altogether, bowing our heads once again before settling back to our seats. A sense of relief can also be felt.

'Before I hand back your test results, I would like to introduce your new classmate!'

'A classmate?' our thoughts sounded in unison. The mood of the room switched into that of curiosity—the test flew out of our minds.

Teacher Emma went outside once again, and came back dragging a grumpy-looking kid along.

There wasn't much to his introduction. Other than his name, Ibrahim, he didn't say anything much else. To relieve the building up tension, Teacher Emma instructed him to sit at the back of the class. Ibrahim did as he was told, and sat down at the seat reserved for him just a few rows behind mine. I didn't even notice there was an available seat there.

Martin told me at the end of the class that Ibrahim was originally his classmate; and that he got sent out for an altercation. Martin himself was involved in that too, but took more of a spectator role. Turns out, it was between Ibrahim and Tim, the same Tim who is my friend.

I didn't force Martin to tell all the details, but it did end up with both their parents coming to the school, and Ibrahim being placed on our class.

'Okay class, I will be handing out your test results now!' Teacher Emma reinforced her authority, 'Ibrahim, I don't have your paper yet, but expect it to be given to you some time later.'

The teacher called us one-by-one, I'm guessing it's from highest to lowest once again. My name wasn't the first to be called, or the second, or the third—it was the sixth.

I stood up and went to the teacher's desk near the front corner. Teacher Emma smiled at me as she gave me my papers, 'Good job! You studied hard, didn't you?' she chuckled.

I said my awkward thanks and headed back to my seat.

It didn't take long before I started reviewing my results. I mean, of course I would! I'm high up in the class podium without a single textbook read!? I seriously could not believe it.

I skimmed through the red ink, checking which guesses were correct and which weren't. A lot more ticks than loops.

'26...over a possible 30.' I muttered to myself.

I got away with one subject, and there's three more to go. My expectations dropped even further. I was certain I won't be able to fluke all four exams.

The maths teacher came in next as Teacher Emma headed out, also carrying a bundle of papers. Much like Teacher Emma, this teacher called us out one-by-one.

Each name that passed was like a knife to the gut. A game of Jenga where my foundation gets taken down block by block. It is the reality.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Finally, my name was called. I walked up to the teacher and held my hands out. He placed my papers on my hands and tapped my shoulder after. For what?

I folded my paper to make it easier to carry with one hand; and that puzzling feeling was with me as I walked down the aisle. Did I do that poorly on the test? Was the result that bad that he felt the need to console me?

As I sat down, my seatmate's first instinct was to ask how I did on the test. The others around me caught wind of this and now had their eyes on me.

'I don't know. I'm just about to take a look myself.' I replied.

'Open it up! Come on!' she said with enthusiasm.

I gave in to their demands and let them have a look.

For a moment, I didn't hear a single sound—not even a snicker. It took a while for someone to break this silence.

'...Wow...'

'How long did you study?' Your book must be worn out being open all the time.'

'...No? I didn't read a single page at all.' I responded their praise.

'Liar...,' a classmate accused, 'there is no way you got a better score than me.'

'And me! I woke up 3:00 in the morning for this test.' another one butted in.

'But it's true—believe me!' I defended myself from their complaints.

I turned my paper towards me to have a better clue what they're griping about.

There it was—encircled in glowing red ink. '39...,' over a possible 40.

My sole mistake was forgetting to add a decimal point—a momentary lapse on my part. How did I let myself be so careless? Even though the score was by no means deserved, I still couldn't deny the feeling of frustration. It was almost there. It was so close that it's funny.

I folded the paper into a quarter and stuffed it sloppily into my bag. I heard our maths teacher stand up from his desk as he kicked his chair back. He made his way towards the centre aisle.

'Okay class,' his big voice forcing our attention, 'I'd like to congratulate everyone who passed—especially Stephen, he got the highest score in class!'

The classroom roared in applause.

'39, out of a possible 40!' the maths teacher added. The cheers grew wilder in response.

The attention was too much for me to handle. I kept my head down, chin grazing the gap between my collarbones.

I chose to remain silent. I could no longer explain to the rest of the class my result was a complete fluke. If it didn't satisfy those seated near me, It won't satisfy the rest either.

The maths teacher held his fist up, regaining control over the class. 'Now for those who failed, better luck next time. Maybe you could ask Stephen here to tutor you.'

Please don't.

You have nothing to learn from me.

His class ended, and eventually a different one starts. Those classes also handed back our test papers. I wished for a different, more deserving outcome this time, but the world had been kind to me.

29 over 35 for Science.

28 over 30 for History.

Why? ...How?

What is my motivation now that I can get good scores without even trying?

It works in my favour too, right?. Less time for studying means more time for drawing, and playing games. More time can be dedicated towards fun.

I could create more characters, more stories, more comics.

More time can be wasted on phone calls. I can learn more video game boss themes from Martin. Though, really, I barely care at all.

It doesn't matter if I study or not anyway, I don't have the need to. Not anymore.