Wednesday, June 15, 2011

High School



I remember Billy. He sat behind me. Always tried lookin’ over my shoulder to get the answers on a test. I couldn’t ever call him out on it. He was twice my size and had a punch that could break a brick into pieces. No way would I mess with that.

One time, I knew he copied everything I wrote during a test. I hated that. Let me do all the work and he gets away scott-free with a passing grade. Must be nice.

But Billy doesn’t know brains can beat brawn. Sure he could give someone a black eye, but I could give him a failing grade on the test. I had to time it right. Wait for him to copy all the answers, flip my pencil over, then erase everything I wrote. More importantly, I had to fill in the correct answers before the teacher collected the tests.

I did it with sweat forming on my forehead and my heart pounding through my chest. Not because I thought Billy would find out what I did, because he didn’t. I just didn’t want to have a failing grade. I wanted a perfect score, and I got it.

Billy never cheated off my test again after that.