Exams are a laugh

What a laugh, great joke! At least, that's what everybody else seems to think. I'm damn sure I don't, I'm as scared as hell at the thought of coming into this cold, stinking hall. Ten minutes ago I was making jokes and laughing at how easy it would be. Outside they were smiling; I don't see any smiles now.

Mind you, it's great weather for exams, bleak and dismal. The hills are grey, the skies are grey and most of the faces look worse than our uniforms.

There's no noise outside except for the roar of the occasional car, which sounds more like the moan of death than anything else. In here the noise is different, there's only the sound of pen on paper, except for that stupid teacher in her high-heeled shoes, climp, clump, climp, clump, slowly ever so slowly, up and down, up and down. I'll throw this bloody pen at her if she doesn't stop soon.

What are those kids out there staring at anyway? Pack of idiots; wait until they have to do this, then I'll laugh and give them hell.