I heard the human muttering to himself. “If I don’t pass, my dad will ground me for life.” I had a lot of pressure on me. If I didn’t help the boy pass the test, his dad would ground him for life. I was so nervous. Right before the exam, I broke twice. I could hear the boy’s expletive filled with exasperation as he placed me in the sharpener. Ouch. The other pencils told me to quit worrying, yet I couldn’t help it. During the exam, the boy seemed to know most of the answers. But towards the end, when someone called out “five minutes left,” I got so anxious. I could feel my point breaking. Thankfully, I held it together. You know, I actually thought the boy would take me out and celebrate. Even thank me. Instead, I was thrown back into the box. The other pencils told me I had gone through a rite of passage. They wanted to celebrate a little. I didn’t. How could the boy callously throw me back with the others after I had helped him so much? Now I’m planning a riot. Next time the boy takes a final exam, he’d better use a pen.
Better Use A Pen Next Time
November 15, 2008