I walk on to the line of students, hands sweaty. I can feel my heartbeat in my toes because of a surgery I had last year, and I stand. I stand and I stand, waiting for the next three hours of my life. The line moves slowly over the next hour and my feet grow numb because of that surgery I had. There’s a silly person in front of me scribbling on index cards but it all looks like gibberish to me; Marco Polo, Columbus, “The Americas,” China. Should I know this stuff?

I arrive at the doors. There are four of them yet only two are open and I wonder if the test has already started. I sweat some more and fumble with my slap bracelet that I got when I crashed a five year old’s birthday party last summer. A gust of steamy air slaps me in the face as I walk through the doors and I walk quickly because the students behind me are shoveling me forward.

I spot a girl far away with a grin on her face which means she either studied a lot or she is the College Board because no one is that happy to be here in Tech on July 32, 2022 at 7:00AM. 3e17 is my room number and I trudge up the stairs. I have a brief hallucination on floor two where someone is telling me to “hurry up” and that I’m “going to trip if I walk like that.” I swear I’m not crazy but I may have tied my shoelaces together to escape from this test by way of an “unfortunate accident.” I don’t think that’s going to happen though. The voices in my head told me so.

Eventually I make it to the room which I’m testing in. The boards are wiped clean but I can still see the faint outline of an among us fading away. I laugh to myself and think, Heh, sus. I wish I could save him but he’s too far gone. Similar to myself, I guess.

My whole left leg is numb now and I sit down in the first row as the proctor stands in front of me. His lips are thin and so are his eyes so it’s uncomfortable to watch as he talks but I try anyway because I have to at least not get kicked out. The proctor says to make sure we “don’t have our phones” but I’m 99% sure he’s joking because of the way his eyes crinkle but then again, he has thin eyes. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I think we’re about to share a laugh but he glares, eyes getting impossibly thinner as he asks me for my device. As usual, I listen to the voices in my head and give up my phone. It’s not the end of the world because I have another in my other pocket. Who doesn’t?

The proctor finishes with his spiel on drinking water and Apple Watches and tells us to open our booklets carefully. I’m excited to see what the test is on so I eagerly open it up. The pages are so…bland and flimsy. Only in black and white? There’s some illustrations but they’re definitely not children’s book quality and I can hear the voices in my head scoffing.

The proctor says we have an hour left. I know he’s joking because that would only be a three hour test and my brother told me we have unlimited time for the state test. I raise my hand to correct the silly, thin-eyed man and he comes over and tells me this is the advanced placement world history test and that maybe I’m “in the wrong place.” I mean mentally sure but not…physically. I tell him he’s mistaken, my brother knows his stuff. He tells me to finish the test before he kicks me out. I tell him it’s okay and show him a picture of my brother on my other phone. When he tells me that my brother is younger than me and has “never taken an AP before,” I lash out; the voices in my head start to lecture him, saying that he has no business proctoring a state test but he tells me I’m not supposed to have a phone and kicks me out. Without warning.

I think I failed. My brother is gonna be so mad.