scene thirty-two - wrong - year nine

You. Shouldn’t. Care.

The words were running through their mind, refusing to give up, even as their eyes swam with the tears which they knew shouldn’t have been there. It was one bad test score—it wasn’t going to impact on their future, or even their present. They didn’t even get a disapproving glare from the teacher, since he’d given up on them a long time ago. But… they’d never failed by this much before. Usually, they at least scored a passing grade, but this? This was the worst mark—the most red pen sloshed all over their test—they’d ever seen.

Around them, kids chattered like usual, swapping their exam results and smiling—always Goddamn smiling, like they were actually happy about their abysmal grades. He’d told them all as much as soon as they swanned in from lunch, in an attempt to calm them down and gain their attention. For the most part, it hadn’t worked. Everyone else seemed to be just as bright-eyed and unfazed as they had been before they even entered the classroom.