Tick.

I wasn’t even that close to the clock and it seemed to echo through my head. It wasn’t fair. English was my thing. I spend all my free time writing stories, yet I can’t even get past these multiple choice questions!

Tock.

Damn this stupid question! Damn it to hell! And curses upon its children! Sure exam papers don’t have children, but when I rip it to shreds it definitely won’t. I look around. People have started writing already. And where am I? Stuck on the multiple choice. This has to be the suckiest of all sucky occasions. I mean look there! Rachel only learnt to speak English this year and she’s writing! This is so frustrating!

Tick.

Why do I even need to know what certain lighting means in a picture? If it’s dull it means this, bright means so and so. I don’t care. That’s not going to help me dig up dinosaur bones, or publish my stories. I mean sure it might help with book covers or something like that, but I can always just go for the title in bold letters with a cool coloured background. Or have a really cool coloured eye on the front. You can never go wrong with an eye. Mmm. Eye starts with E, which can look like a C…well that’s as good an answer as any.

Tock.

It doesn’t make sense! I flew threw the science exam! Why can’t I do the same for English? My friends come to me for help with their writing, yet I can’t do my own. Makes tones of sense. Answer a couple more, try not to rip hair out. I’m going to fail. And that will be embarrassing, cause you have to do extremely bad to fail the school certificate. Like never showing up to class bad.

Tick.

I sniff, why couldn’t my cold have completely left me? If I go really badly can I blame it on my cold and retake it? Probably not. I put pen to paper and fill out more, finally moving on to the written part. School article aye? Mmm, in art we had to write evaluations on our canvas works. I could just change the form around and I could have this page done in no time.

Tock.

Blast that infernal clock! Why couldn’t they get a digital one for crying out loud. They have one in the gym, why not the hall. Can’t help but ponder this for a moment. Okay when I’m a senior and we have to give the school a gift, digital clocks for all rooms, none of this ticking shit that puts you on edge.

Tick.

Pure evil. Tick, tock, tick, tock. Will it ever end! Analysis the following poem. ‘I don’t do poetry’, I remember telling my teacher that in class. She had laughed. We were doing a poem called Wall or Mending Fence, I can’t remember. This one’s even worse. But do able, I suppose. Could be worse. Everything in a teen’s life can get worse. Mainly because we exaggerate everything, and end up blowing a fuse. My mum does that once a fortnight.

Tock.

Think dammit. This is more important than any of that meaningless stuff.

Tick.

Everything is meaningless though. In the end we all die. That was my favourite quote to use on my mother to interrupt her rants on my weight and diet. ‘Eat healthy, Stay fit, Die anyway’ she’d always have a comeback, none that I took to mind though.

Tock.

It’s all the necklaces fault! I just had to where my first dogs’ tag. He was run over by a truck, why did I wear that to exam. In no shape or form is that lucky!

Tick.

It’s official. Being a teenager sucks arse. Being an adult is probably worse, but being a teen sucks as well. Why do we have to grow! I mean teenagers have to deal with puberty and hormones, and try to be comfortable with themselves. Get used to breasts! Evil flab of flesh that strive to bring DOOM TO US ALL. That’s all I see when I look at this paper. Exams from Hell. Catchy, no?

Tock.

Everything is good. Everything is fine. This test means nothing. Just write and it will all be gone. Gone for good. Never to be spoken about again. Ever. I begin the speech. Bringing up racism and prejudice and sexism, it all works and with the stuff my mother goes on about, I’ll fill up the page no sweat.

Tick.

It’s done I’m finished. I’m free. I lean back, proud of myself. Our hall is shaped like hexagon, and the lights are shaped like a star. Mmm, I wonder how many cockroaches are in those lights. One. Two. Three.

Tock.

Twenty-four. Twenty-five. Maybe I should check my work. I could improve upon it. But then I’ll start double checking my double check. I’ll go in one great big cycle, and I haven’t ridden a bike in years. Thirty-two. I start tapping foot lightly. The leather bound shoe slowly loosening and sliding off slowly. A nice echoing thud as it hits the ground. Damn loose shit, it’s one of those dainty ones that you just slide on. Everyone looks in my direction. ‘Don’t be afraid to disrupt your fellow peers’ I recall someone saying. Almost makes me want to run around quaking before sitting back in my spot after stealing someone’s pen. Oh, if only.

Tick.

“Times up! Put your pens down! Those in the back row collect all the source sheets, second row…” whatever Trevor. I’m special and sit in the middle of the hall. I lay back, waiting for her to say we can leave. This hall brings back bad memories, bad memories from ten minutes ago.

Tock.

I see the girls around me moving and I follow along, stretching my legs as I go. We pick up our bags and head into the dazzling sunlight. I shield my eyes.

“Shit” I turn and see a girl bending over to pick up her watch.

Beep, beep, beep, beep. The alarm goes off. Damn clocks. Analogue and digital. I stalk over, standing above them before bringing my foot down. Again and again. Till it was little pieces of Satan spawn. The look up at me in a mixture of ‘dear god’ and ‘what the’. I turn and walk away, finally at peace.

“Hey do you know the time?”

God I hate people.