The day of the midterm exam had finally arrived. That morning, the homeroom teacher came to the classroom. She stood at the front, her expression serious but not unkind.
"Today is your battlefield," she said. "You need to demonstrate your ability. This exam will test your effort and show whether you have studied hard."
Then she left, wishing them luck without saying the words directly.
Ketto felt a wave of nervousness wash over him. He always felt like he hadn't prepared well enough, like there were still so many things he needed to memorize. He took several deep breaths, trying to relax himself. Then he lowered his head, covered his ears with his hands, and began silently repeating the knowledge points he had reviewed. He mentally checked how many points he had already memorized and which ones still needed work. If he realized he had forgotten something, he would quickly flip through his book for a last-minute review. He believed that even seeing a term one more time was better than never seeing it at all.
The exam seat numbers were assigned randomly, and the students wouldn't know their numbers until the invigilator arrived. Ketto hoped he would get a good seat number—or at the very least, not sit in the front row. He didn't want to be too close to the invigilator's desk, where the teacher would constantly walk around. He was afraid it would affect his concentration.
While Ketto was buried in his last-minute review, Hanky sat at his desk completely indifferent. He was spinning his pen between his fingers. When he got bored of that, he started spinning his textbook. He always found something to play with—anything except studying.
Billy and Lucas walked over to Hanky's seat, grinning.
"Bro," Billy said, "how many points are you planning to get?"
Hanky pretended to think deeply, then laughed. "It depends..." He looked at them, and they all shared a knowing smile.
Billy sighed. "I hope an straight-A student sits in front of me."
Hanky laughed again. "Don't dream. That's wishful thinking."
Lucas nodded. "I do hope so." Then he began looking around the classroom, muttering to himself and counting on his fingers.
Billy noticed and asked, "Hey, what are you doing?"
Lucas didn't answer. Billy reached out and grabbed his arm. Lucas suddenly said, "Don't bother me. I'm counting the number of straight-A students in our class."
Hanky raised an eyebrow. "So how many have you counted?"
Lucas replied, "Conservative estimate—around eight."
Billy frowned. "Only eight? That's terrible."
Lucas smirked. "Don't worry. For you, everyone is an straight-A student." He glanced at Hanky as well.
Hanky widened his eyes in mock anger. "You dare laugh at me? Do you believe I can beat you to a pulp?"
Lucas waved his hands frantically, still laughing. "No, no, no! Even if you gave me a hundred lives, I wouldn't dare say that or laugh at you."
They continued talking and joking for a while, completely unconcerned about the exam.
Then the time came. An invigilator entered the classroom, carrying a pile of documents. No one recognized him—they had never seen this teacher before. He was tall, with glasses and a stern expression.
"Everyone sit down in your assigned seats," he announced.
The students returned to their original seats first. Then the invigilator asked for the class representative. Sharon raised her hand. He handed her a sheet of paper with the seat arrangement numbers and asked her to adhere it to the door.
As soon as Sharon posted the sheet, the students rushed forward, jostling and crowding around the door. They were all checking their numbers, desperate to know where they would be sitting. Once they confirmed their seat locations, they scattered to find their assigned desks.
I should mention that the seat numbers had actually been posted yesterday, after the final class ended. But most students had been too distracted to check. The numbers were arranged in a snake pattern. There were thirty-five seats in total, arranged in five rows, with seven students in each row.
The first row held numbers 1 through 7. Number 1 was closest to the teacher's desk, while number 7 was at the far end of the row. The second row started with number 8—but number 8 was at the far end, while number 14 was closest to the teacher's desk. The snake pattern continued, alternating directions with each row.
Ketto pushed his way to the door and scanned the sheet. His eyes found his name. He followed the line to his seat number. His heart sank slightly—but then he realized he wasn't in the front row. He let out a small breath of relief.
At least that's one less thing to worry about, he thought.
He found his seat, sat down, and laid out his pens and eraser. Around him, students were still scrambling, some laughing, some looking nervous. Hanky walked past him without a word, spinning his pen as always.
Ketto took another deep breath. The exam was about to begin.