lovely post by little growing pains. do you.
“Psst. Over here.”
I glanced furtively to my left. Jamie was one row over, dangling a folded square of paper over the edge of her desk. A note. How could I grab it without attracting the attention of my math teacher, the man whose sporadic, jerky movements had caused many a piece of chalk to fly haphazardly into the face of an unsuspecting sixth-grader? I watched carefully as he called on someone at the other end of the classroom, extending my arm slowly and snatching the paper from Jamie’s fingers.
That test was BS, it read in her round, bubbly handwriting. Can you believe I got a 78? My mom is gonna KILL me.
I quickly flipped my own test face down, hiding the big red “100%” from Jamie’s view. I know, I scrawled underneath her words. Totally ridiculous. SO unfair. Before the teacher had a chance to…
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