Howdy y'all! This chapper's really gonna be great! Yee haw!

To the reviewer who said I need to update faster: this chapter's dedicated to you! because you are absolutely right (I'm making no promises, though.)

A big THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed, and especially to those who answered my pesky questions!

This is the chapter in which the plot kind of gets going, so without further ado...

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Spinning for Hours

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by Seaoknarnar

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Chapter 5: The SAT Advanced Degree

"He doesn't remember...He doesn't remember..." I thought to myself. "My life is in shambles."

"Oh shut up!" thought another, more sensible part of my brain. "You realize that you are acting completely pathetic, right? You are pining away for some boy that you have a crush on. Don't you usually make fun of girls like that? And what would Tommy say, huh? He'd laugh in your face right now."

"You know what," I thought, "I'm right. This is pathetic." I stood up, brushed the dirt off my butt, and strode over to the door. "I will not be pathetic," I thought, and confidently yanked the door open.

I stepped in to what appeared to be a small dark room, with nothing but mops, brooms, and buckets in it. I was facing a door, but when I tried to open it, I found it locked. "There has got to be some mistake," I thought.

"Please present ID for verification," said a cool female voice from a loudspeaker above my head.

"Well, ok," I thought. I pulled out my ID card, but once it was in my hand, I did not know what to do with it. I stared at it, bemused.

"Please present ID for verification," said the voice again.

I looked around for a scanner or something, but I couldn't see anything that even remotely resembled a high-tech electronic. All I saw was junk.

The voice persisted. "Please present ID for verification."

Now I was irritated. It was very well for the voice to say that, but if I was given no directions then how the hell was I supposed to know what to do? I yelled, "If you want my ID then here you go!" Then I threw the ID as hard as I could at the damn loudspeaker. I felt myself breathing heavily through my nose, the way I do when I'm pissed.

"Scanning," the voice said. Then a second later, "Simpson, Lisa E. Please proceed."

I stared dumbfounded at my ID for a second before picking it up off the ground. I don't usually act Homer-esque around technology, but this scanning system had gotten the better of me. This time.

I proceeded to the door and pulled it open. Then I gasped with shock and awe.

I had expected to see a dingy room like the rest of the basement. But instead, my feet carried me in to a hall softly lit by crystal chandeliers. The rich red carpet felt very soft and plush below my besneakered feet. The walls were not moldy wrecks, but instead were ornate patterns of gold-leaf against gold wallpaper. Along the walls were class pictures dating back to the 60s. Polished mahogany tables were spread out every so often along the walls, alternating with polished mahogany benches. I could hear classical music playing softly out of large speakers in the corners of the hall. I thought I could hear the burble of a fountain coming from the end of the hall.

I was all alone, except for a woman about half-way down the hall. She had dark brown hair pulled back in to a bun, and a pair of spectacles on her nose. She looked kindly, but very strict. She was holding some electronic device, and she looked down at it as I approached.

"Lisa Simpson?" she asked in a kindly but strict voice. "You are in B group. Enter through the doors to my left."

I turned to her left, and saw two magnificent white doors. I pushed them open, and found myself in a room decorated similarly to the hall. However, instead of class pictures, the walls of this room were decorated with complicated charts and diagrams, as well as posters with encouraging words. And instead of mahogany tables and benches, there was one huge semicircular polished mahogany table. It was shaped like a piece of elbow macaroni, and around the outside edge were about 30 comfy red chairs, spread evenly apart. All the chairs faced a regal looking blackboard, with the words "Welcome Back Corvids!"

I spotted Martin sitting in one of the chairs near the end, with Ralph sitting next to him. Since I knew no one else in the room (with the exception of one sandy-haired heartbreaker) I made my way over to the duo. They were deep in discussion.

"Hey guys," I said, interrupting them. They both replied, "Hey Lisa," before returning to their conversation. Something to do with physics.

I glanced at my watch, which read "7:27" and thought, "Good, only a few more minutes before class starts. I am utterly bored here." With my remaining spare time, I looked around the room at my fellow classmates.

They definitely weren't what I'd been expecting. I had been expecting lots of nerds with pocket protectors and thick glasses. But, boy, was I surprised. Many of them were dressed like I was, and none of them seemed particularly nerdy. They were way cooler than the nerds I had hung out with at Springfield Elementary (I didn't have many friends at Jebediah Springfield). I think they would even meet Tommy's approval, appearance-wise. I saw several of them had dyed hair (like mine, but mine is natural), and I think I spotted a nose ring somewhere. Definitely not what I'd been expecting of them.

The bell then rang to signify the beginning of class. Everyone moved towards his or her seats, but the conversation had not died down yet. I wondered where the teacher was. Was that woman outside our teacher? I didn't think she looked too bad. Maybe—

But my thoughts were interrupted with the arrival of our teacher (or who I assumed to be our teacher). She threw the door open, and staggered in to the room under a huge pile of workbooks. As soon as she put the workbooks down, she said in a loud cheerful voice, "Welcome back to all my Corvids, and if you're new, then welcome! I'm Mrs. Finch, but you can call me Mrs. Finch!" I stared at the teacher, who did not look like a conventional educator. She was short and skinny, and she had a beaky nose protruding from under masses and masses of curly red hair. She seemed to be in her mid-30s. It was very hard to see her eyes because of the volumes of hair, but I think I saw that she had blue eyes.

She continued with her speech in her energetic tone. "We're going to have a very challenging and grueling year. I expect to assign bookloads of homework, and give out detentions every day. I may even resort to putting you in a corner with a DUNCE cap on your head. Or, the most ultimate punishment, I may make you stay after school and copy down lines while listening to loud country music."

I was appalled at this harsh statement, until I saw that Mrs. Finch was grinning broadly, as was most of the class. Then I finally understood that she was joking. My face actually broke in to a wide grin. And then I thought to myself, "I think I'll survive this year ok."

"Well," said Mrs. Finch, "as this is the first day of school, we'll be taking things easy today. Corvids, we have the workbooks for another marvelous year—" at this, three quarters of the class groaned loudly, and one guy said, "You're joking again, right?"

"No Alfh," said Mrs. Finch, "I'm afraid I'm not. But worry not, the workbooks are only for the morning. This afternoon will be freshie orientation." At this, the class perked up. "We'll have some fun with that, I'm sure. But now, time for workbooks! Amber, please distribute them."

As the bespectacled and befreckled Amber distributed workbooks, Mrs. Finch said, "And now would all the freshies please follow me? The country requires you to take a little test, nothing serious." With that, she sauntered out of the room.

Ralph, Martin, a few others unknown to me, and I got up and followed our energetic teacher. Once we got out of the room, we saw that she was at the end of the hall, standing next to the fountain. She beckoned to us, then opened a door next to her and skipped through.

All us freshies exchanged Looks, but we followed anyway. I led (and surprised myself by doing so), and so I found that I was the first freshie in to the room. And I groaned in disappointment when I saw what awaited us.

The room was bare except for about 20 individual desks spaced widely apart from one another. On each desk was an enormously thick test book, with the words "SAT: Advanced Degree" printed on them.

"Come in, and find your seats," bubbled Mrs. Finch. "They're alphabetical. And for goodness sakes, hurry up before A group gets in here. I have to discuss something with you all."

I found my seat to the far right, and sat down while I stared at the test. "SAT Advanced Degree? I've never heard of that," I thought to myself.

Mrs. Finch perched on the edge of the teacher's desk, and addressed us. "I'll explain in detail later, but I'll tell you right now what you need to know. Despite the denotation, B group is far more advanced than A group. But A group doesn't know that. So don't tell them. This SAT is given only to the top magnet high school students. It's pretty much a secret in the educational world. It's the highest degree SAT offered in this country. I'm sure that none of you will have any trouble whatsoever with it. And I expect that none of you will go blabbing this to anyone who doesn't need to know. Look, here comes A group." She glanced towards the door, at the 10 or so freshies being led by the brown-haired teacher from earlier.

Mrs. Finch slid off the desk and stood up ramrod straight. "Well, come in and hurry up!" Mrs. Finch snapped at the A group freshies. "We haven't got all day, and if you don't finish this test then you won't do well and Mrs. Westinghouse and I will be forced to place you in regular AP classes."

Most of the As stared strangely at my teacher, but they eventually dispersed among us Bs, until finally all the magnet freshies were sitting at desks, waiting to be instructed.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Mrs. Finch snapped bossily. "Get to work!"

I was amazed that my teacher could change tones so convincingly and quickly. Either she was a good actor or a very moody person. Before I began working she caught my eye, and I could swear that she gave me a wink. I nearly laughed out loud. Then I got to work.

***

Two-and-a-half hours later I finished checking over my answers. I put my special No.2 testing pencil down and looked around the room. Everyone was still working. I wondered, "Did I skip a part? Why am I the only one done?" I flipped through the answer book, but I saw that I had done everything. I looked up at Finch and Westinghouse, silently asking what I should do now.

Finch got the message, and strode over to the chalkboard, where she promptly wrote in big letters, "WHEN YOU ARE FINISHED, LEAVE YOUR TEST AND RETURN TO CLASS." I got up, and saw a few faces staring at me jealously. But Mrs. Finch's face was beaming. Happy, I strode out the door, and walked back down the hall to my classroom door.

I pulled open the door and walked timidly inside the quiet room. There were quite a few faces glancing curiously at me. The second the door shut, everyone started clapping and cheering, and many got up and headed towards me. It was quite intimidating.

"Way to go!" said one girl with the nose ring. "You finished first!"

"Yeah," said some guy, "The Finch always favors the First-Done."

"Wow," said the girl I recogised as Amber. "I love your hair."

These comments, and many more, swirled around me until I felt a little dizzy. I was thankful when a loud and firm voice interrupted.

"Everyone, please! This is not Corvid behavior!" The room fell silent. "Hi," he said, turning to me, "I'm Soapy McAllister, the captain of the Corvids. On behalf of all of us, I'd like to welcome you to the Corvids!" Applause followed this greeting.

"Thank you," I muttered timidly (Soapy was a very imposing figure), "but I don't even know if I passed the test or not. How do you know I made it?"

"Oh," said Soapy dismissively, "the computer scans your answers while you bubble in, and actively records your score. And it feeds that info to that monitor over the blackboard. Once you finished, we looked to see your score, and you got a 1600."

"Soapy, someone's coming!" said one girl loudly, interrupting Soapy's lecture.

Instantly, the room fell silent, and all of them hurried back to their seats. Soapy whispered to me, "Instructions on chalkboard," before taking his seat as well.

I glanced at the blackboard, which read "FRESHIES: TAKE A WORKBOOK AND BEGIN WORK ON PAGE ONE" I walked over and took one of the huge workbooks, tightening my grip on it when I felt its weight. I maneuvered to the chair I had occupied before, sat down, opened the book, and saw that I had several calculus problems to work. Unfortunately, I had no pencil with which to work.

I was contemplating what to do when I felt a poke on my shoulder. I turned, and saw that my poker was a nice looking girl who was smiling at me. She handed me a pencil, and I smiled at her in thanks. Then I read the instructions through, and began working.

***

I was in the middle of problem 2 when I heard the grand double doors open, and saw Ralph walk proudly through. I expected everyone to jump up and applaud like they did for me, but all I saw were a few people giving Ralph thumb-ups. I looked up at the monitor, and noted that Ralph got a 1590. I gave him a thumb-up, too and returned to my work.

In Ralph's fashion, the rest of the freshies reentered the room. Lastly, Mrs. Finch entered, and as soon as the doors closed, she studied the monitor, then gave a loud whoop. I think every one of us jumped about a foot from surprise.

"Excellent work, my newest Corvids!" she bubbled. "You all made it (not that I had any doubts, of course)! And you all are working so diligently! I LOVE this class! As a reward, you all may talk until lunch."

Immediately conversations sprang up around the room. I turned to the girl who had loaned me the pencil, and said, "Hey, thanks! I couldn't have done that calculus-" here I made a face "-without it."

"Oh, don't mention it," she replied. "I was a freshie last year, and I know how much a little kindness can do good. By the way, I'm Needa."

I replied, "Nice to meet you. I'm--"

"Shhh! I'll learn your name this afternoon. I don't want to know beforehand," she informed me. Then she went on, "It's kind of a tradition thing. Nothing personal."

I nodded, and we chatted idly until the lunch bell rang. We both got up, and I was about to leave when Needa asked me, "Hey, do you want to eat lunch with me and my friends? We don't bite (at least, I don't)."

I considered my options. It was the first day of school, and I had no friends to spend lunch with. I did not want to end up at a table of cheerleaders…or worse. What did I have to lose?

"Sure," I replied, and together we made our way to the cafeteria.

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Yeah… about that last part, it's not that I hate cheerleading. It's just that all the cheerleaders I've met are not very nice people. So if you are a nice cheerleader then I apologize for insulting you. And I think the cheerleader personality is the opposite of the Lisa personality, so that's why I put that in there.

Next chapter: the freshie orientation. Beginning writing it as soon as I post this chap.

*To everyone attending school soon: I am starting the day after tomorrow, and I feel your pain. It's criminal to start before Labor Day… but that's the Mo. Co. school board for you.*

~$E@0K|\|@R|\|@R~

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