Dedicated to @Pinkstripedzebra for all of the lovely comments and the support--and also, I couldn't not give you the chapter where the refrigerator made its brief appearance! XD

Despite my decision that I won't worry about the Examination, I spend most of my weekend holed up in my room, pacing in circles and staring at the wall for extended periods of time. Every once in a while, I sit down at my desk and pick up a pencil, absentmindedly doodling to keep my mind occupied. But my thoughts keep wandering back to the test.

On both Saturday and Sunday morning, the first thing I do is scramble to the window and pray with all my heart for a retake opportunity, my eyes fixed on the rising sun. Surely there's no way this wish can go as wrong as my previous one.

Mom and Dad spend most of their weekend on the phone. I think they're trying to contact the Examination Officials, but it's obviously not working. They get more and more dejected as the hours progress, which just makes me feel upset that I'm causing them so much disappointment and stress. Not to mention the amount of time they're wasting on me.

To be honest, I'm not sure I want to know if I'm going to get the chance to retake the test or not. I'm scared to know the answer to that question. I don't think I can handle it if the answer is no.

I'm so terrified to go to school on Monday, a place filled with people who will no doubt be desperate to discuss the test with anyone and anything that moves, that I can barely sleep at night. When I finally do manage to fall asleep, it's probably not even Sunday anymore, and I wake up bleary eyed and exhausted. But I still manage to drag myself to the window and make yet another sunrise wish that I will get to retake that test. And then I wonder if that's going to be my wish every day for the rest of eternity.

God, I hope not. That's depressing.

Of course, just as I expected, when I get to school, the Examination is all anybody can talk about.

Snippets of conversation float through my ears as I walk up to the front of the school. Every few moments, I hear someone mention a question in a section I completed, and my fingers clench together in an effort to keep myself from screaming out loud. Especially when I hear someone saying that they put down what I know is an incorrect answer.

I would have scored higher than half these people in art, at least, I think savagely as I storm into the building, shoving my way through the crowds as I head to my locker. But no, they're going to be successful while I end up unemployed.

It doesn't get any better once I'm inside the school. No matter where I turn, people are frantically questioning anyone and everyone who is willing to stop and listen, grilling each other about the test.

Normally, I'd be one of them. But instead, as the voices wash over me, they make me feel like I'm drowning, suffocating, in the midst of all of these kids who have nothing to worry about in their future. Every single one of these people will have a score. They will be assigned to a career path and will follow it for the rest of their lives.

Everyone except me.

I do my best to tune out all of the voices, but it's practically impossible when the Examination is the sole topic of conversation everywhere I go. I manage to get to my locker, and then to my first period class, math, without going absolutely crazy, and I nearly cry out with relief when I see that the two girls sitting at the front are the only ones in the room. Finally, some peace and quiet.

"Elayne!" one of the girls says brightly, catching my eye. "Come sit with us!"

I smile faintly at her. "Hey, Sadia. And Medha."

The other girl, Medha, looks up at the sound of her name and gives me a knowing look when she sees my expression. "You're sick and tired of everyone talking about the Examination too, aren't you?"

"Tell me about it," I sigh, walking towards them and collapsing in the seat next to Sadia. "They can't talk about anything else."

"I don't blame them," Sadia says reasonably. "I mean, the results are pretty important, and everyone must be really stressed. I'm sure it'll be like this until results are released."

"But they won't shut up about it," Medha groans. "Sure, they're worried, but talking about it won't change anything now. It will just drive them--and everyone else--insane."

"Well, of course you wouldn't be worried, you're practically a genius!" Sadia exclaims.

"Oh, please, as if you're some sort of idiot yourself--"

Medha is cut off by the ringing of the bell for the start of first period. And then twenty other kids are rushing into the classroom, still discussing--of course--the Examination.

"Goddammit," Medha mutters. "Here we go again. Kill me now."

"At least class is about to start," I whisper.

But it seems the odds are not in my favor today. Our teacher, Mr. Baker, normally one of my favorite teachers in the school, begins class with the dreaded words, "So, how did you all do on the Examination?"

I bury my face in my hands as a clamor of voices rises to answer his question. Medha lets out a loud groan and drops her head on her desk.

"Stop being so dramatic," Sadia laughs, and then presses her lips together, eyes still dancing with laughter, when Medha gives her a dark look.

"All right, all right, calm down," Mr. Baker says loudly. "I know that you all are eager to discuss the test, so you know what? I'll give you a free period. You guys can discuss the Examination among yourselves and you can even come and ask me questions about the math section if you have any. Or, if you want to put the Examination behind you, you can read, put your head down, doodle, or whatever you want. Just keep the volume low!"

"Mr. Baker, I am going to throttle you," Medha hisses through her teeth as everyone launches into another discussion of the test. "You know what? I'm going to read a book. Don't bother me or I'll punch you in the throat." With that, she reaches into her backpack, pulls out an enormous novel, and flips it open, a curtain of black hair falling over her shoulder and blocking her face from view.

Sadia laughs again. "See, this is why I love her," she tells me.

I raise an eyebrow. "I'd be scared, actually."

"Nah. When you've known her as long as I have, you realize that she's really just all talk when it comes to these things."

"I'm going to throw this book at your face," Medha warns, not looking up.

"As if you'd want to damage it," Sadia replies with a grin.

"Shut up."

"Told you so," Sadia murmurs to me.

I laugh. "Well, I think I'm going to follow her and just ignore everyone else here. I'm getting out my sketchbook."

"Oh yeah, you take art, don't you?" she nods. "Well, I'll leave you to that. Meanwhile, I do have some questions for Mr. Baker about that test, so I'll be back. Try not to go crazy."

I snort, pulling out my sketchbook and pencil case from my bag. "Easier said than done. But thanks."

Several minutes later, I am about to explode from the constant chatter ringing in my ears when I realize what the topic of conversation is. They're no longer talking about specific test questions like they were before.

"There were three people who burst into tears in my testing room--three! And apparently, that's lower than average. It's actually insane."

"Of course it is, people in my room were breaking down and sobbing too. And there was one girl who literally fainted! They had to delay the start of the test by ten minutes while they tried to revive her."

"That's it? You all are so lucky. In my room, there was this one kid who literally vomited all over the floor. I had to take the entire test with the room stinking of puke!"

The statement is followed by several gagging noises. "Oh, that sucks."

"Did you know that two kids got kicked out in my room because they leaned over and said a couple things to each other as soon as the test ended? Because the answer sheets hadn't been collected, it was counted as a testing irregularity. Apparently the Examination Officials haven't announced whether or not it's an automatic fail yet."

"Oh, please. You think your testing rooms were bad?" One boy snorts derisively. "If you couldn't handle that, it's a good thing you weren't in my room. I bet what happened there has never happened before, ever."

Suddenly, all attention is on him. "What was it?"

The boy breaks off, and then lowers his voice to a stage whisper. "It was towards the end of the test, and they had just announced that there were only a couple minutes left. We were all scrambling to finish and it was dead silent except for us writing and turning pages. That is, until this one girl..."

There's a pause for dramatic effect.

At that moment, Sadia returns to the table, eyeing the boy who is talking. "Let me guess, he's in the middle of some overly dramatic story?"

"How did you know?"

"Oh, come on, it's Brian Wilson. When is he not?"

"Fair enough," I say, shaking my head in amusement and focusing my attention back on the open sketchbook on my desk, lowering my pencil to the paper. I don't care what he has to say anyway.

"She set her paper on fire."

And then I gasp, jumping in my seat, my sketch suddenly marred by a dark jagged line right down the middle.

The sound is masked by the noises of disbelief echoing from almost everyone in the classroom. "What the hell?" "Is he being serious?" "Okay, there's no way that's true!"

"I am serious!" Brian insists loudly. "I don't even know how it happened. The test was almost over and everything was normal, when this girl's paper just... catches on fire!"

"What, so it just magically went up in flames?" one girl asks sarcastically.

"Yes, exactly!"

The words are met with yet another clamor of incredulous voices. Everyone is scoffing at him or rolling their eyes, wondering why they ever thought he might actually say something believable this time. But I sit frozen, words washing over me but not registering in my ears, unable to move.

How did I not realize that there were people from my school, possibly in my classes, who were in the same testing room as me? I didn't even consider the fact that... maybe one of them will recognize me.

I don't need that kind of humiliation.

Meanwhile Brian keeps protesting that he's telling the truth, while others are drowning him out with comments about how he must be lying--"I mean, you're always lying, why would today be any different?"-- and laughing at the very idea that something like a fire in the testing room could actually happen.

I am so incredibly lucky that the one person who could spread this story all around the school is also the one person no one would believe.

"Brian, why don't you shut up and stop looking for attention by making up false stories--" someone is snapping.

"It's true," a familiar voice says in a bored tone, barely audible above everyone else's clamors. But the moment the words leave her lips, everyone is turning to stare at her. Including me.

Medha. 

Oh god. She wasn't even in my testing room, how does she know it happened? She can't know it was me who did it. She would never speak up if she did, would she? She's been acting normal around me too, and she wouldn't do that if she knew, right?

She hasn't even looked up from the book she's reading. "I said, it's true. Brian isn't lying. For once in his life."

Brian ignores the little jab at him, triumphantly turning to face everyone else. "See, I told you so!"

"How do you know?" one boy asks Medha suspiciously.

She lets out an exaggerated sigh and slams her book shut, turning to face everybody and giving them all the are you seriously trying to question my credibility right now look. "Look, my dad has access to the information. I know what I'm talking about. I wouldn't back up the story of someone like Brian Wilson, of all people, if I didn't." With that, she opens her book back up and goes back to reading, her hair falling back over her shoulder and blocking her face from everyone's view. Conversation closed.

"Besides, her dad is an Examination Official," Sadia adds, pushing her dark curls out of her face. My eyes widen at those words. I didn't know that, though it's not a surprise Sadia did, considering how close she is to Medha. "In case you were wondering what her dad has to do with anything."

All of a sudden, kids are eyeing Medha in interest. "You mean, like, he helps with writing and grading the Examination?" a girl asks, staring intensely at the back of Medha's head.

"You can't bribe him to give you higher scores," Sadia deadpans, glaring at the girl. "So don't even think about it."

The other girl's face falls, and I would roll my eyes at her pathetic attempt if a thought hadn't just occurred to me.

If her dad is an Official, then he has a say on whether or not I get a retake.

No. No, I can't build up false hope like that. It will just make the eventual disappointment so much harder to bear.

"Hey, Brian, your last name is Wilson?" someone else questions. "Whoever that girl was, her last name has to be close to yours alphabetically. Do you think we know her?"

"Are you kidding? There were like a hundred people per room, from so many different schools. She probably doesn't even go here."

"You know they're most likely making the entire room retake the test?" Brian bursts out, interrupting. "We'll probably have to redo the whole thing--after we finished it all, by the way--just because one girl was a complete idiot. I'm pissed."

"Don't you feel bad for her, though?" one person pipes up, eyebrows furrowing.

"Oh, come on. She probably did it on purpose to get attention or whatever. Maybe she thought she was going to fail and wanted to sabotage herself to get a retake. How can you set a paper on fire by accident? She's an idiot, I tell you. But it's her problem, whoever she is. I mean, if she was dumb enough to set her test on fire, she probably wouldn't have passed anyway, so it doesn't make a difference, right?"

Half the class starts laughing at his words. The sound hits me hard, like a punch to the gut.

People think I cheated on purpose.

People blame me because they might have to retake the entire thing.

And what's worse is that I really am the one to blame.

"Don't say that," I hear Sadia saying sharply, but her voice sounds muffled coming into my ears. "You don't know the circumstances--it could easily have been an accident. Maybe she didn't even do it!"

"Are you serious? How could she not have done it?"

"What proof do you have that she did do it?" Sadia counters. "Don't you think someone would have noticed her getting out matches and setting her test on fire? And--"

"No, of course not, because we were all focusing on taking the damn test!" Brian exclaims.

"Let me finish talking! It could have caught on fire on its own if there was enough oxygen in the room. You all should know that higher oxygen levels make things more flammable--if you ever payed attention in class, that is," she snaps.

My head has started spinning. Brian fires something back at her, but I'm not even able to process what I'm hearing. Feeling sick, I clamber to my feet, going unnoticed by everyone but Sadia, who gives me a concerned look. "Bathroom," I choke out, hoping it sounds natural. I force myself to walk at a normal speed until I'm out of the room, and then I'm bolting to the bathroom, slamming the door open, barging in, half collapsing against the wall. The words thank god it's empty flit through my mind as I lean my head against the wall, trying to force down the sensation of wanting to vomit.

And, of course, suppressing the urge to march right back to class and smack Brian in the face with my pencil case--or something heavier, like Medha's book, or a refrigerator.

I don't realize how hard I'm clenching my fists until I start to feel my fingernails painfully digging into my palms, hard enough to make marks. When I finally realize what I'm doing, I open my hands with a little gasp of pain, shaking them out. A pencil clatters to the ground as I do so--I didn't realize that I was still holding it, but apparently I never put it down before I rushed from the classroom.

I look down at it for a second, staring at its sharpened point. And then, suddenly furious with myself and Brian and myself and the Examination and myself and the Examination Officials and myself, for screwing everything up, I bend down and snatch it into my palm, then chuck it at the bathroom mirror with all the force I can muster.

The pencil misses the glass, hitting the wall instead.

It makes a sizzling noise as it bounces off. When it hits the ground, it is smoking.

My rage suddenly forgotten, I gasp in horror, my hands flying to my mouth. No, no, no that did not just happen. Those are not little wisps of smoke floating up from the pencil that is lying innocently on the floor, that is not the smell of something burning, this is not at all even remotely like what happened with my test during the Examination--

The pencil bursts into flames.

A strangled scream escapes from my throat.

I don't even think to try and put out the fire. Instead, I stumble backwards, blindly grappling for the doorknob, letting out another shriek as I find it and the door swings open, almost causing me to fall to the ground. Tripping over my own feet, I practically throw myself outside and forcefully shut the door with a loud thud. Then I slowly back away, breathing heavily, my body trembling.

I don't want to believe what I just saw. I don't want to believe that this is real.

Maybe I imagined it.

Yes, maybe I did. I'm going crazy after what happened in the Examination and now my brain is playing tricks on me. Cautiously, I open the bathroom door and peer in. And then I jerk back, slamming the door shut again.

The pencil is now just a pile of ash.

This is real.

My breath catches in my throat as I try not to panic.

There are no security cameras in the bathroom, I tell myself, trying to calm down. There are no security cameras in the bathroom. There are no security cameras in the bathroom.

No one has to know that anything happened in there.

But that's not helpful to my worries.

Maybe no one else will know what just happened. However, that doesn't erase it from my own memory.

That doesn't change the fact that now, if there was any doubt before, I know for sure that whatever happened with my test paper was completely my fault. I know that for some reason, two insane and impossible fire-related things have happened around me. And that's no coincidence.

Now, I know that something is wrong.

What terrifies me is that I don't know what.