The Finite

The acid/base test came back today. My 134 minutes of work got me 153 points out of 210. I haven’t gotten a grade like that since Calculus.

The rest of the period was sent in mourning and we didn’t get much done. I, while balanced precariously on the back rest of a seat, managed to fall backwards on the desk behind me, taking both chairs down with me in a big pile while everyone idly stood by. (Neal said I looked like I could handle it.) This is not surprising. Any time I receive a disappointing test grade is usually accompanied by an instance of me being physically harmed. Like that time I cracker failed a Calc test was followed my Tyrcha nearly crippling my calculator hand with one of his 40-mph floor hockey shots. And I must have done badly on some test during the entire time we played Lacrosse which was just one big 4-week-long bruise to me. Somewhere, there’s a voodoo doll of me that is vulnerable to low test scores.

Meanwhile, on the same test, Neal has blown away Juny’s score and has been suspiciously good at chem ever since he got sick. Then I got sick and my performance has dropped off somewhat. Neal, you ever see that episode of Smallville where Clark gets struck by lightning while rescuing some dude from falling off a dam and his powers get transferred to the guy? Probably not. I guess the point I’m trying to make is:

How did you do it? Witchcraft? Deal with Satan? Moon sapphires? I want my powers back!