‘Where’s my novel Princess of the Undead?’ I thought to myself scurrying through a pile of books that I had taken out of my bag, which seemed to be somewhat comparable to the height, and shape, of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
‘Have you lost something’, Mandy calls from the desk beside me.

‘Yes’, I exclaimed, ‘my social life’.

It was English, and I was in year twelve, and approaching the end of the year: the forever-dreaded SAT’s were coming up soon. I don’t know why SAT stood for Schools Admissions Test, since for every normal student, excluding book worms, which I couldn’t properly provide representation for, stood for something more like the Sick and Twisted.

There was probably no subject I hated with a passion more than English. Our teacher, Ms. Mattiske, was, I guess, fairly nice, but a rather hard marker. Moreover, to reiterate what I mean by ‘hard marker’, if you were to score above eighty-five percent, which was an A, you would be William Shakespeare.

‘So hydrogen and oxygen are getting a drink, and gold walks in, and they go ‘Au, get out of the bar’’, Jeremy says walking pass the front of my desk and through the side to the seat behind me, ‘Because, you know, Au is the atomic symbol for gold’, Jeremy clarifies.

‘Ah, ha, ha’, Mandy taunts.

‘Someone’s looking towards the SAT’, I say in a rather rhetorical tone.

‘Oh, look who woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning’, Jeremy laughs.

‘You know what Miley’, Mandy says, ‘many people think these SAT questions are difficult; Not me.’

‘No?’ I gasp.

‘No’, she replies, ‘These questions all have answers’.