“I gotta go to my math teacher’s during lunch, I need to talk to her about my test tomorrow,” I inform my friends in a faux nonchalant manner. A couple of them nod, some don’t acknowledge me. I put my milk carton on my tray and grab my backpack, making my way across the cafeteria towards the tray drop off.
I didn’t study for the test but I knew I was going to get a good grade. I was going to do something a little crazy. Climbing the stairs towards the math wing I kept picking at a wort on my middle finger; the halls where empty during lunch hour except for the occasional kissing couple. My palms are usually moist, but they were exceptionally sweaty at the moment. I arrived at Ms. Kingsley’s room, and peering in, it appeared she wasn’t there.
“Perhaps…” I think aloud. I was definitely expecting her to be here, but this is a pleasant surprise. This makes everything a lot easier. However, just in case, I’ll act innocent. Raising my voice an octave,
“Ms. Kingsley?” Silence followed. I walked a couple classrooms down, and checked the math office, she wasn’t there either. Walking back to my classroom, I couldn’t help but have a smug grin.
During past classes I had noticed that Kingsley had a nice little cabinet, perfectly ordered with any in class worksheets that we could take if we had happened to miss a class. The angel also kept every single test in there. Getting straight to business I began filling through Chapter one, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, all the way to the Chapter 8 test. My shirt under my armpits was not only just damp but totally drenched. Shooting one quick glance over my shoulder and looking at the time left for lunch period, I darted out the room. I still had about four minutes until the bell rang. I walked down the math hallway and stopped to put the test in my backpack. My emotions where mostly euphoric, but I did feel a little guilty, and a little scared.
There was no way that I could get caught. My parents would kill me, and I would probably get expelled, or worse, get my Esteemed Academic Role Model status revoked. So far in my junior class, only four people had perfect GPAs, I was the third. Top three ranked students get invited to  the annual Ivy League Spring Admissions Gala, and are named Esteemed Academic Role Models. I come from a Dartmouth family; my mother and father met there, my grandparents both went there, their grandparents went there. I was next in line. However, no thanks to Isaac Newton. My grade in Calculus was a  B, and I had tried everything. I had two tutors, and a study group that met biweekly. Still, I struggled in that class. With the semester closing in, I needed to get that A. Anything goes.
I made my way to Psychology class, even though there were still a couple minutes left of lunch period left. I didn’t mind being early to class, it gains you a lot of ethos from teachers. Especially since I was on the lookout for potential Letters of Recommendations. I waited outside the door for a little, then walked to my desk as the passing hour bell sounded.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Patel, how was your weekend?” I chirped.
“Ah good afternoon to you as well Monica, we celebrated my nephew’s third birthday, it was quite the event. How was yours dear?” Ms. Patel liked me a lot, she was smiling cheek to cheek.
“My weekend was more on the busier side, but still was a good break from school, with finals coming up it’s getting pretty stressful.” I said, while piercing my lips in an mock frown. The stolen test was in the back of my mind.
“Oh shush you’ll get the job done, you always do,” Ms.Patel said reassuringly. I smiled back, then got out my psychology binder. That seemed kind of backhanded, did she know about my test? That would be impossible, but what if there were any security cameras in Ms. Kingsley’s room? I didn’t even think to look up and check. My heartbeat began to grow deafening, and my face felt hot.
Calm down. I took some deep breaths and unclenched my jaw. I sat up straight and relaxed my composure. Class went by without any more paranoia. As the day finished, I sulked towards the bus, my steps dragging with guilt, but the deed was done, and I couldn’t go back. Anyways, I needed the A. My bus stop was one of the last stops; so with every couple kids that filled out the bus, I was slowly left alone. Just a heads up:  riding in an empty school bus is the worst.
After what seemed like a couple hours, the bus slowly rolled up to my house.  I sat in my seat for a lot longer than usual before standing up and getting my backpack on, because I really didn’t want to face my parents. I loved my parents, but they were overwhelmingly involved in my life.  I had always thought my house resembled a castle, but today it looked more like a prison. “Thank you for the ride” I said plainly. The bus driver nodded in response. I hopped off the bus and reluctantly walked towards my front door. I grew more anxious with every step closer I came to the door. I tried to relax because my parents would notice right away if I was off my game. As tapped in the passcode my front door, I relaxed my face, because I always accumulated a lot of tension in between my eyebrows.
The front door was my favorite door because it was way larger than a regular door and it was rounded at the top. It was made with imported wood from the Andes, and it was made to look a lot older than it actually was. Guests always comment on it, and my family always stresses that first impressions are very important.  This door is a little heavy, so I always have to use both my hands and my body weight to get it open. Walking in, I shout “Hello!”, because my mother always expects a greeting into the house to make sure your presence is known. The first thing I notice when I am in the house is the savory smell that was wafting from the kitchen. I’m always hungry after school, so I make a beeline for the kitchen, hoping that dinner was already ready.
My mother was busy making a paella for the family, when I rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Hi mom” I yell because, she can never hear me over the chimney release.
“Hola Moni, how was school today?” My mom always calls me Moni, even though it sounds kind of like monkey in spanish-- Mono.
“ Oh it was the usual amount of boring as it was yesterday” I never give any details about my day ever for some reason. I sometimes feel kind of bad because my parents really do make an effort to get to know my everyday life but I’m usually just so tired that I just really can’t be bothered. If I have kids I definitely want to instill in them the habit of talking a lot about their days and their emotions because I definitely struggle with both departments.
“ How’s your homework coming along Monica, I know you have a couple of tests coming up and I don’t want to hear that you’re ‘so stressed’ about them the day before alright? ” My mother said sternly.
“I came in for help for calculus, and I’ve been practicing chemistry with Kathy this whole week, I know mom” I droned on. Calculus
I hated it when she patronized me but she does it so often that I’ve gotten used to just biting my tongue and going along with it. My mother was generally rude to me, and I’ve tried talking to her about it in order to try to make her tone so confrontational, but she doesn’t listen to me. For some reason, I can never argue with my mom, regardless that I’m in Debate club and have taken a couple classes on Argumentative Reasoning, my mother always gets the last say, or I just start crying.
“Que quieres de comer?”  What would you like to eat? My moms tone softens.
“When do you think dinner will be ready?” I inquire.
“Probably in an hour or so” She estimated.
“Ok, I think i’ll just make myself a sandwich” I looked for the croissants, and the ham, my usual go to.  The calculus test is still at the back of my mind so I eat quickly, and take my backpack to my room. I make sure to close my door in order to ensure complete privacy. I unzip the largest pocket where I had put the test, and I reach in there and pull out my Biology homework? What? I look inside my backpack again and pull out several other worksheets. None of them were the Calculus test.
“What the hell,” I mutter to myself. I dump out the contents of my backpack onto my bedroom carpet. No test. Ok first of all where could It be, and second of all, the test was tomorrow. There was no way that I would be able to even pass the test, because in my stupidity, I didn’t study at all  for this test in the outcome that would have stolen the freaking answer key! At this point I’ve ended up curled up with my head in my knees and my arms around my legs.. This was bad.
My mind started running through possibilities about where the test could be. Could it have fallen out of my backpack during one of my classes? How could that have happened? My breathing was becoming so rapid that I began to feel lightheaded and faint. So I laid down with my arms and legs all stretched out and stared at the ceiling.
My hypnosis was broken by the home phone ringing. Ok so this isn’t that bad, at least I won’t get caught cheating. Nothing ever happened ever. I guess I have nothing to feel guilty about now. This news gave me some relief. I heard my mom talking on the phone, and I wondered who called. Not giving it much attention, I pulled out my calculus textbook and I began doing some review. Suddenly I heard a knocking at my door and my mom entered the room.
“It’s Ms. Patel, she wants to speak with you” My mom said. My eyes were suddenly very alert.
“Hi Ms. Patel, what did you want to talk to my about?” I spoke cheerfully.
“Hi, yes, Monica, you’ve seemed to have left something of yours in my classroom, a uh unit test?”
My heart stopped. Ok, maybe I can pull this off.
“Oh my gosh yes! I’ve been looking for that everywhere, it’s a practice test.”
“Yes, so I think you should come in immediately” Ms. Patel sternly said.
I immediately got so nervous at the thought of meeting Ms. Patel. I was in total disbelief at the thought that one of my closest teachers might be the one that turns me to the gutter.
“Okay I’ll be on my way!” I chirped. I made my way to my mom and asked her if I could take the car to go grab a textbook I left at the school. I really hated lying to my parents, there was no reason for me to be hide anything from my parents. My mother told me to come home quick and to not be late for dinner. I told her I wouldn’t be and then I grabbed the keys and went out the door. My palms were so sweaty they made the steering wheel slippery. Each red light seemed to take ten minutes, but finally I arrived to the school. I read somewhere that when a human is in a time of crisis, they take in a lot more details concerning their surroundings, thus making time seem to slow down. I was definitely in a time of crisis.
I parked the car and took a deep breath as I grabbed my keys and phone and hopped out of the car. My mind was numb to a degree, and my mouth felt dry. As I made my way up the flight of stairs to the Social Studies wing, my pace began to quicken until I was half jogging. When I finally made it to Ms. Patel's classroom, I felt tears forming in my tear ducts. I was so scared. Walking in, I noticed that Patel seemed to be correcting our latest project on the functions of the brain. This allowed me to relax a little.
“Hello Monica! I’m so glad you can make it. ”She declared.
I was confused by her tone, but I went along with it. I sat down in a chair in front of her desk, and raised my shoulders.
“Oh you don’t need to sit down” She recounted.
“Oh ok,” I stammered.
“You look so worried, I’m sorry if I made you nervous, I just wanted to tell you that you have been nominated for a Student of the Year award by the Social Studies department.”
“Oh my gosh, thank you so much!” I gushed with relief and shock.
“And here is your worksheet, best of luck with your studies!”
I took the test and thanked her again, then I walked out of the classroom, light as a feather. But what the heck.