"Go on," Meyer urges. "You have three more exams so move those feet. Be back here in twenty-five minutes."
I put my sweaty palm on the door handle, twist, and take a deep breath.
Out in the hallway, I don't waste any time and head for the cafeteria. Once inside, I ignore all of the stares. Coffee. I need strong, black coffee. That'll ease my nerves and keep me awake the rest of the afternoon. Scanning the room, I remember there's no coffee available for students. I bet they have a coffee pot in the teachers' lounge, though.
Would they notice if I steal one cup? Or will they call the police and claim I'm a thief in addition to the other labels already tattooed on my back.
I spot my sister sitting alone. She used to sit by Maggie and their other friends, giggling and flirting with my friends.
That's what sucked about having a twin of the opposite sex. It was bad enough when my sister had crushes on my friends and would bug us when they'd hang at my house. She'd slap on the makeup and act all giggly and flirty ... I still cringe thinking about it. What's worse is when I realized the tide changed and my friends actually wanted to get into my sister's pants. That changed it into a whole new ball game. I spent a lot of time last summer threatening to cut my own friends' balls off. I've always made sure my sister was protected, her reputation as well as her social status.
A year has gone by.
Boy, how things have changed. Nobody even looks in Leah's direction now.
"Hey, sis," I say, straddling the cafeteria bench opposite her.
Leah twirls spaghetti around her fork, the hot lunch special of the day. "I heard about the exams," she says.
I let out a short, cynical laugh. "My brain is already fried and I still got three more to go."
"You think you passed?"
I shrug. "Don't know."
"Rumor has it Morehouse made up a social studies exam you couldn't possibly pass."
Didn't I already pay my debt to society? "Really?"
"Yeah. Caleb, what if you flunk?"
I don't want to think about it, so I ignore her question. When I happen to glance at the entrance to the cafeteria, in walks Kendra. Is she my ex, or did we just take a leave of absence from each other? The answer lies in her reaction to me. She hasn't spotted me yet. Good. I'm not ready to talk to her in front of the whole frickin' school. "I gotta go."
I bolt out the side door of the cafeteria, the one leading to the small gymnasium.
Man, Kendra looked hot. Her hair is cut different than I remember, her shirt a little tighten How will she react when she sees me? Will she throw herself into my arms or will she play it cool?
I miss her.
I gaze at the wrestling mats piled in the corner of the gym. Kendra used to cheer me on during matches. I remember the last wrestling tournament I competed in. I jumped two weight classes to wrestle the big guy. It was a 1-1 tie before I made my move. His legs were as dense as a python, but I was quicker. I'll never forget his name ... Vic Medonia.
I wasn't intimidated, although I probably should've been. Vic was last year's state champion. But I won the match. The guy had one word to say to me after the match. Later.
I was arrested a week later.
"You're back." Coach Wenner is standing at the door to the gym, eyeing me.
I shove my hands into my jean pockets. "That's what they tell me."
"You gonna wrestle for me this season?"
"No."
"My team could sure use a good one-sixty-five."
"I'm one-eighty now."
The coach whistles in awe. "You sure? You look leaner than I remember."
"I've worked out a lot. Muscle weight."
"Don't tease me like that, Becker."
I laugh. "I'll come to some matches. To watch."
Coach Wenner slaps the wrestling mats. "We'll see. Maybe when the season starts you won't be able to resist."
I check my watch. I better get back and finish those exams. "I gotta get back to Meyer's office."
"If you change your mind about joining the team, you know where to find me."
"Yeah," I say, then walk down the hall.
Back in the office, Meyer plops the next test in front of me.
Damn. I forgot to eat. Now the words on the page are blurred, the knot on the back of my neck is throbbing, and Meyer is staring at me from his desk.
The guy sits there, his eyebrows raised like little French accents over his eyes. "Something wrong?"
I shake my head. "No, sir."
"Then get to work."
Easy for him to say. He doesn't have to take a social studies test the president of the United States wouldn't have a chance in hell of passing.
I should purposely flunk it; that'll show 'em. Then I can skip my last year of high school. There's no way my ma will let me be a junior again. Or will she?
I fill out answers until my pencil wears down and my ass is numb from sitting on the hard metal chair. It's a fifty-fifty chance I've passed Morehouse's stupid test. Only two more of the things to go before I can leave for the day.
Two hours later, I answer the final question on the last test. I almost smile. Almost. My brain is too tired to use any facial muscles. So when Meyer dismisses me, I practically run from his office.
I have to take a bus to the hardware store. Bus number 204 from Hampton will stop a block away from school at three twenty-nine.
My watch says three twenty-seven.