As a warning, this is not for the faint of heart. If you want something lighthearted, this is not the story for you.
The mechanical pencil's lead snapped again under the pressure of its user. Delilah muttered under her breath and pressed the eraser twice. She checked her calculations again and filled in the bubble with the letter A. The remaining three questions were simpler word problems. Her eyes flicked over them and she marked B, C, and another A.
She glanced at the timer on the table at the front of the room. A little less than half the time left. All of her test answers we correct. But standardized tests were not made to be solved with a perfect score in less than half the time given.
Delilah looked over her answers, choosing some of the harder questions and marking them with wrong answers. Just slightly wrong, but the grading machine didn't care about 'slightly wrong'.
Next to her, Adam stretched in his seat and passed a note to her.
I wonder if Foxfire has standardized tests.
Delilah smiled and scribbled back. I don't think they do. But I'd be graduating Foxfire this year, wouldn't you?
Yeah. You're eighteen, I'm sixteen so I'd be finishing either Level Five or Level Six. No tests like this must be nice. This royally sucks.
Her brother glanced around the room. Everyone else was still hunched over their papers, hard at work about halfway through the test, where they should be. We should at least look busy. Even if this is so-easy-it's-hard kind of work.
If you say so. Delilah pulled out the sketchbook she used for scratch paper and tore out a new sheet. She set it down over her now-closed test booklet and began sketching their new horse. A dull blueish-black mustang with a white stripe down his face. Adam reached over and pulled the sheet away from her, adding another horse.
This one was Blaze, their father's palomino gelding. He was on the tall side, 15 hands and three inches. Adam sketched in the saddle, adding their father seated on his horse. Tall, dark waves shoved under his cowboy hat, cobalt eyes that were always laughing, Hollywood-worthy grin that never seemed to leave his face, 'cept when he talked about his work. The pin, his old family's crest, on his hat wasn't visible from his left side though, just the wide black ribbon it held in place.
"Everyone please put down your pencils. This test is over."
Delilah smiled as she gathered up her things and threw away the scratch paper she'd used, saving the hastily drawn picture.
Adam poked her in the shoulder before asking. "Do you know who's picking us up?"
"No, I don't. I think it's Aunt Nat. I'll call and ask." She did just that, lifting her flip phone to her ear as she followed her younger brother outside.
"Detective Freeman, NYPD. What can I do for you?"
"So, Aunt Natalie, do you know who's picking us up?"
"Turn around, Della, I'm already here."
Delilah sighed and hung up, turning around and joining her brother in their aunt's car.
"So how was testing, kiddos?"
Adam grinned. "Perfect score, but we had to fudge some of the answers."
Natalie sighed, staring at the horizon as she shifted the car into drive and left the parking lot. "You remind me of my sister."
As clarification, they are not speaking telepathically to each other, they are passing notes.