007 -- Ajatashatru

"You have ten minutes remaining."

The classroom was sweltering. Bright shafts of sunlight lanced in through the tall windows, creeping across the room as the afternoon wore onwards. The examination had been in full swing for almost three hours, and most of the boys had dark sweat stains running down their backs and armpits. The frenzied scratching of graphite pencils on cheap, coarse paper only increased in volume as the end of the exam approached.

"Five minutes."

One student, startled by the announcement, snapped his pencil in surprise. A small wordless sound escaped his lips before he switched pencils and continued his frantic scribbling.

The teacher stood in the front of the class, staring at his pocket watch, unmoving. Finally --

"Time is up. Please stand next to your desks and I will collect your papers."

An audible groan rose from the class, almost drowning out the creaking floorboards as all thirty boys rose from their desks at once. The black-clad teacher moved quickly up and down the rows collecting the sweat and lead-stained exams before returning to the front of the classroom and his official examination booklet.

"This now concludes your exit examination from the Kashi Boy's School. Expect your results in two weeks to a month by mail. Class dismissed!"

Relieved, the students gradually stumbled out into the cool air of the hallway. But before they could leave the teacher called to one of them.

"Andrew, could I talk to you for a minute?"

A slender, brown-haired youth tensed momentarily, and then turned from the door and walked back to the teacher's desk. "Yes, Mister Bradford?"

"I just wanted to say what a pleasure it has been teaching you this past year, Andrew. You're one of the brighter students to come through this school in a long time, especially for a . . . ah . . ."

Andrew watched his history teacher sputter momentarily before replying. "Thank you, sir, you know I'm just trying to do my best."

"Well, I know it was exceptional, as always. Best of luck to you, I know you're in the running for the scholarship." Mr. Bradford had recovered from his earlier gaffe quite effortlessly.

"Thank you sir, we'll see how it turns out."

"Well, I won't hold you up any longer. I know you're anxious to get out of here once and for all!"

Andrew smiled and turned from the desk. He forced himself to walk slowly out of the room, letting his pulse return to normal. Whew . . . I thought he'd noticed for a second. That would've caused some problems . . . no matter. Time to get to work.

Walking quickly once he was out of Mr. Bradford's vision, Andrew passed the other five classrooms. Kashi wasn't a large town, and the government school was only a single low brick and wood building. He stopped at his locker only long enough to grab the brown leather satchel inside before continuing to walk quickly to the end of the building. Andrew was just out of the door when another voice called to him, this time much less friendly.

"Hey! Rat!"

Shit. Not these guys again.

"Done with your exam, Rat?"

Should I run? No, I've tried that. They're too fast.

Andrew stopped and turned around. Three boys were leaning against the side of the building, their school uniforms carefully askew. The shortest one was smoking some kind of tobacco rolled in paper.

"Can I do something for you?"

They laughed.

This is not good.

The short one took the tobacco out of his mouth and stood up.

"Yes, Ratty Jata, would you mind joining us for a minute?" he replied, smiling with exaggerated politeness and bowing slightly. The other two continued to laugh.

I already know how this is going to end. They'll be polite at first, but as soon as they get bored with insults it will get physical very quickly. I can't win in a fight, they're all bigger than me. Even Greg! I don't have time for this today -- I have to head them off. Maybe if I can provoke just one of them into fighting me alone . . . I might have a chance . . .

"What if I don't want to, Greg?"

The smile instantly disappeared from the short boy's face, replaced by a look of cold hatred. "That wasn't a request, you fucking half-breed." He tossed his cigarette aside and began walking towards Andrew.

"Don't fucking call me that anymore." Dammit, could my voice sound any less threatening? I sound like a fucking twelve year old.

The three boys stopped in surprise. "Weellll . . . look who grew a pair!" said Greg. "There's only one problem -- you ARE a fucking half-breed, and we're gonna call you whatever the fuck we want to call you!"

"At least I'm not too dumb to pass first level math."

At this a vein twitched in Greg's forehead. There we go, get good and angry . . . just have to keep pushing him . . . Greg recovered quickly. He turned back to the others.

"You know what I hate about half-breeds?"

This was a line that Andrew had heard many times.

"It's not that they're mixed. It's not that they think they're smarter than us. What I HATE about half-breeds is the thought that some darkie has gotten with someone's wife."

They're laughing again. As long as they're laughing, I'm safe.

"But do you know what's worse?"

Greg turned back to Andrew.

"The possibility that maybe instead of some darkie and a white woman, it was the other way around. The thought that a man would stoop so fucking low to fuck your mother makes me want to --"

"At least she's not getting paid for it like your mom!" Andrew was improvising wildly at this point.

Greg's face went suddenly pale. The other two boys were still laughing, but his mouth had clamped shut. Andrew took the opportunity to keep taunting him.

"Yeah, you heard me. I know how you got into school -- I heard all about your mom and the headmaster."

"Shut up, Rat. Now." Greg's voice trembled.

Wait . . . really? Andrew threw caution to the winds.

"And how about your dad and your sister, huh? I'll bet when he slips into her bedroom at night it isn't just to keep her warm. Too bad you're such a fucking coward, or else maybe you'd --"

"Yeeaaarggh!" Greg threw himself at Andrew, screaming incoherently. They both went down in the dirt in a scrambling tangle of legs and arms. The other two boys stood watching, unsure whether to help or not. Andrew wasn't sure, but he thought that maybe Greg was crying. At least one of Greg's blows connected solidly with Andrew's nose, and he felt something crack.

"Hey! Hey! Boys! Stop that this instant!" Someone was running up to them. "No fighting! No fighting allowed!" Hands pulled them apart and helped Andrew upright. Mr. Bradford and another of the teachers had arrived. Greg was struggling against the firm grip of the headmaster, still crying. Putting his hand to his face, Andrew realized that his nose was bleeding profusely. His satchel was still on his back, thankfully.

Mr. Bradford was still talking. ". . . I know that you've just taken the exit exam, but that doesn't mean that the rules no longer apply. We can revoke your diploma at any point from now until the fall! Gregory Hutch, are you listening to me?!?" Greg was still struggling against the headmaster's firm grip, silent tears running down his face. The other two boys were nowhere to be seen.

"I'll take care of Mr. Hutch, can you get Andrew cleaned up?" said the headmaster. "The bandages are in my office, see if you can at least stop him from bleeding all over everything."

"Yes, yes, I'll see what I can do." Mr. Bradford took Andrew by the arm and led him back inside the school. "Try to hold your head up and back, it will slow the bleeding." Andrew followed him down to the end of the hallway and into the headmaster's office. Mr. Bradford had to briefly rummage through the desk before finding the bandages.

"Alright, now take this and hold it against your nose. Keep your head tilted back and you'll be fine. We'll just have you sit right here until the bleeding stops, and then you can head along home." Andrew just nodded and sat in a small chair to the side of the headmaster's desk, dropping his satchel to the floor next to him.

Just as he sat down, the headmaster came back in. "That's one that I'm not sorry to see the last of." He sat down heavily at his desk, pushing his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose.

"How are you feeling, Andrew?" he asked after a brief pause, without looking at him.

"Fine, sir. A little sore."

"You should be more careful around those three. I thought you would've learned that by now."

All Andrew could think about was the headmaster and Mrs. Hutch.

"Yes, sir . . . sometimes I forget."

The room was silent for a moment. Then the headmaster replaced his glasses and inhaled sharply.

"Yes, well, we can't have one of our most promising scholars getting into fights with his peers. I'm sure you did very well on the tests today, Andrew. Speaking of which, Terry, do you have the . . . ?"

"Yes, headmaster, right here." Mr. Bradford pulled a large stack of exams from his briefcase and set them on the headmaster's desk. "They're all ready to be sealed up and mailed. Are you going to do them now? I can drop them at the station on my way home if you'd like."

"I may take you up on that. I think I have the envelope back here somewhere . . ."

This is not going according to plan. I didn't think they would mail the tests so quickly. If I'm gonna do it it's gotta be now. This isn't how I planned to do it, but oh well . . .

"Um, excuse me, headmaster?"

"What is it, Andrew?"

"Well, there was something else . . ."

The headmaster paused. "Yes?"

"The other boys . . . well, when I came out, they were doing something. They had something propped up against the building, and they were all standing around it, but as soon as I came out they I saw it and they fought me. I don't know what was in it, but I thought I smelled smoke . . . and . . ."

The Headmaster and Mr. Bradford stood quickly. "Terry, you take the South wall. I'll check the North, and we'll meet in front. Hurry!" Both adults rushed out of the office.

As soon as the sound of running footsteps had faded, Andrew jumped up from the chair. He quickly closed the door of the office and turned to the stack of exams sitting on the desk. Thumbing through the pile, he quickly located his own answer sheet by the small red triangle in the corner of the cover sheet. The red pencil looked identical to the others in the examination room and had been easy enough to smuggle in.

Opening his satchel, Andrew pulled out another answer sheet. Carefully prepared (sweat stains and all) the night before, he gingerly substituted it for his original exam, taking care not to bleed on anything. I really hope that those answers I bought from that Cimbrian Central guy were worth it.

No sooner had he replaced the stack of papers on the Headmaster's desk when footsteps were heard outside in the hallway. Carefully sitting back down in the chair, he was just in time to see the headmaster and Mr. Bradford come back into the office, huffing and puffing.

"Well . . . huff . . . there's no sign . . . hooo . . . of any problems . . . . huff . . . thank goodness." They stood panting for a moment before continuing. "Thanks, Andrew . . . you gave us a bit of a scare, but I'm glad you mentioned it."

"I'm just glad that everything is okay, sir. Sorry to get you all out of breath." Andrew made sure to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

"No, no, don't be sorry. Look, why don't you head home now . . . what was I doing?"

"I think you were mailing the exams, sir."

"Ah, yes . . . let me finish that before you leave, Terry. Oh, and have you . . ."

But Andrew was already out of the office. He couldn't trust his face to stay expressionless as the headmaster looked at the exams . . . I can't give it away now. That would be a pretty stupid way to wreck it all . . . Come on Andrew, keep it together!

This time he checked carefully before exiting the building.