Quiz Results
It was halfway through fourth period. The air was thick with boredom and the smell of chalk from the blackboard.
Toots was chewing her pen cap. Sidney was drawing something completely unhinged in the margin of his worksheet. Spotty had started dramatically sighing every few minutes, like that might get them out early.
A moment later, the teacher came round with quiz results.
Smiffy looked at the top of his paper. 15/15.
He stared at his paper for a moment. No red marks anywhere, no "See Me" circled in red. Probably good.
"Fifteen?" Cuthbert said where he was sitting from behind, pointing straight at Smiffy's paper, grabbing everyone's attention. "He got fifteen?"
Smiffy turned his head, blinking slowly. "Yeah?"
"No," Cuthbert snapped. "It's just—Danny only got seven. I got 12. You got—fifteen?"
"I revised," Smiffy said simply.
Cuthbert blinked behind his glasses. "You revised?"
Smiffy nodded. "I did the reading. Twice."
Cuthbert stared like someone had betrayed him. "You did the reading twice."
"Maybe you should revise," Smiffy added, his voice flat and calm. He wasn't joking. Just offering a suggestion.
Danny—leaning back in his chair, long legs stretched out under the desk,—burst out laughing.
Cuthbert narrowed his eyes. "I demand a recount."
"You can't recount a quiz, you lemon," Toots said without looking up, pencil tapping against her lip.
"Then it was rigged."
Smiffy shrugged, slow and wide-shouldered. "Maybe I'm just clever."
He didn't say it to prove anything. He meant it the same way he might say maybe it'll rain later. Just a thought. A possibility.
No one argued. Not really.
Cuthbert sulked for the rest of the period. Smiffy shared his crisps at lunch anyway.