11

Today's the day of the exam. It's a quarter of my final grade. To get a passing grade on this would almost get me into a safe zone; I could get a worse grade for the final exam and still pass this class. That's why I am extremely anxious for it, my mind being occupied by it from the moment I wake up until the moment it starts.

The bell rings. Lunch ended. I sigh deeply, gather all the courage I can find in me and put away my maths book, leaving only the necessary stuff behind: a pen, a pencil, and a calculator.

I look to the right, where Jerah is sitting. He has a calm look on his face, seemingly not worried about this exam at all. The exact opposite of me, a nervous, shaking boy, whose heart is racing and mind is going blank.

The teacher tells everybody to be quiet and starts handing over the exam papers. I quickly go over all equations I remember one last time in my head before I read the first question.

The bell rings again. Already? I look at my answer sheet. Two questions left unanswered, out of eight. That is bad. I put my pen down and sigh, putting my hands up in defeat. I had hoped all the nerves would leave my body after the test, but it went worse than I expected, and just thinking about the grade I will get makes me nervous.

The rest of the day passes by in a flash. I barely remember anything since I was not focusing on whatever was happening around me. But soon enough, I find myself closing the door of the club room, leaving it until after break.

I turn around and slowly walk to the library. What should I tell my tutor? He tried his best to help me, but I failed him. Will he get mad? Will he be disappointed? I thought I didn't care, but his opinion is almost as important as the grade itself right now, although I can't quite explain why. It's a weird, vague feeling, wanting to make him proud of me. What is he, my dad?

After arriving, I sit down next to him. Silence. What should I say? Isn't he supposed to ask how it went? I look down at my hands, not knowing what to do. On the table are two history books, a pen and a notebook. I can't read the text in his book, but I can make out a picture of a soldier.

Jerah sighs, closes the book, and leans his back against the chair. He puts his hand on my shoulder. I can feel all my muscles relax, then immediately tense up more than before. I look up at him and the time seems to slow down for just a second, sound disappears, the background fades away. Then I breathe in, everything returns, and I feel my face warm up.

"You look confused and absent-minded. Did it not go well?" he asks.

I nod, turning my head away. "Even though I remembered everything we went over, I couldn't use it on the test. There were just so many possibilities, and too many numbers..." I try to explain it, but it sounds kind of stupid.

"You do realize you may not pass this year now?" Jerah's voice sounds as cold and stern as ever. It makes his words even more painful. I frown and put my face in my hands. The hand that he had placed on my shoulder disappears as he puts his arm on my back instead, slowly and softly patting it. His actions and his tone do not match.

"We will have to wait until the results. After that, I can calculate what grade I have to get on the final exam," I say.

"Are you sure you can calculate it? Not too many numbers?" The boy laughs while I glare at him. "Just kidding, just kidding. Anyways, I was looking at this, so if you'd give me a minute..." He opens his book again and finds the page he was on before I came.

"You need help with World War II? That's one of my favourite subjects! If you want, I can actually help you out there." I immediately feel better. The rest of our study session, we focus on history, and for a moment I forget that my school life is on the line.