The principal demands silence. But the atmosphere is electric.
Rowdy teenagers attempt to calm their nerves, let’s categorize them into three.
One, the confident. Two, the nonchalant. Three, the worried.
2pm. It is released. Tutors feel a concoction of emotions for having simultaneous roles:
the harbinger of doom, or the messenger with good news.
A tall, lanky boy approaches the tutor when he is called.
He is dressed smartly, but inside, he is a mess.
You can’t tell from his expression what he is thinking.
Probably because he is too afraid to think.
He holds in his hand an unopened booklet.
He takes a deep breath, and readies himself. Then, he flips it open.
What will we see?
To everyone who is going to be facing the moment of truth with me tomorrow, I bid you all the best, and don’t fret. I don’t really know what to say. I’m quite a right mess myself for now.