The ease at which Deliela Jones answered finished the geometry exam surprised her. She hadn’t thought that she would be this fast during this particular test and she’d wondered if she’d been seeing the correct answers. Her trial geometry exam in September had gone much slower than this.
She finished a half an hour before the time had been up and she checked her answers. She noticed some mistakes and changed them. At the same time, she’d noticed the wedge heels at Australia sandals that the twelfth grader next to her had been wearing and thought, nice shoes. It reminded her of a pair that she’d gifted her mother last year.
She had been checking her last answer when the teacher had said: “One minute left.” She whizzed over the answer and actually managed to change it to the more correct answer before handing it it. The girl with the wedge sandals got up and left and Jones stared at her sandals as she walked away. I’ll get myself a pair like those, she thought.
This was Jones’s second last exam before shoe would be on holiday and free from the chains of this school. She’d loved it here but felt that the cliques that form in this environment frustrated, as well as, troubled her. It puzzled her that she had not been a clique-person and that all of the people at the school had been.
When it came to friends, she’d moved around if her first year at the school and then settled on joining a bunch of rejects. One had been racist, a thing she had only realized in her twelfth grade year, and the other was a soft-spoken hockey goalkeeper.
She looked forward to attending Rhodes’ University as she’d heard that they’d offered the best psychology and sociology package than any of the other universities in South Africa.
The last exam would be Home Economics. She’d already passed that exam with her the marks that she’d accumulated from class projects and tests during the term. It had been a subject that required a lot of rote learning, as facts about foods’ nutrients had to be memorized, and not as practical as one would think. It surprised her that they’d only had one cooking practical, during the twelfth grade year. Perhaps our teacher was just lazy, she thought.
She’d studied hard for the exam and had trusted that it would pay off. She wanted to get an A for it, although she’d known that their teacher had been prone to favouritism. One more, she thought, and then I’m home free.