18. Pop Quiz #2
Her response made me regret making that deal with her even more than I already had. “That might be true. But if you hadn’t stolen my boyfriend before Mack and I could make up, I wouldn’t have to put myself back out there. Dating someone new in your senior year is tough. I don’t recommend it.”
Hearing the professor call my name pulls me out of my frustrated memories. “The following students will be in group A: Talia Prescott, Macklin Shayba.”
Macklin squeezes my hand under the desk, his blue eyes bright and playful. “I don’t care about the pop quiz. Professor Cantucci is officially my favorite professor. Doing this project with you will be so much fun.”
Something in his tone tells me that he isn’t just talking about the topic the professor will assign to us.
A wave of warmth washes over me, but we’re in a crowded class, so there’s no appropriate way to channel my excitement. When Macklin lets go of my hand, I grieve the loss of contact with his warm, slightly rough fingers.
“Also in Group A will be Becker Shayba and Genevieve Bergen.”
And that’s why they say not to sell the skin before you’ve caught the bear. Doing this project with Macklin was too good to be true. But having Gen with us? I couldn’t think of anything worse.
“Fuck. That went downhill very fast.” Macklin groans, echoing my sentiment.
“Group B,” Professor Cantucci continues, oblivious to our less than excited reaction. “Will consist of Tucker Prescott, Colsen Thomas, Vaughn Heston, and Hillary McGrady. Group C will be…”
Tucker shakes his head. “I don’t know if I’m more disappointed that I don’t get to do the group project with my little sis, or more relieved that I don’t have to work with we know whom.”
Macklin rolls his eyes. “I haven’t taken a class with Cantucci before, but you and Talia have. When she says that the study groups are final and she isn’t going to change them no matter what, how serious is she?”
“As a fucking heart attack.” Tucker whispers. “Don’t even think about asking her, anyway. We already have an automatic strike against us because of her bias against athletes. Don’t give her more ammo to claim that her bias is justified.”
I can’t help but agree with Tucker. “He’s right.”
“Very well.” Professor Cantucci’s usual smile is replaced by a serious expression.
“Before we begin, Victor will pass around a basket. Put your electronic devices in the basket. And with that, I don’t just mean your phones, but also any laptops, tablets, smartwatches, or anything else that can be used to access the internet.
Those of you who are wearing glasses should come to see me, so I can check that they aren’t smart glasses.
Anyone caught with any device that can be used to research information or with notes regarding the quiz subject on or near their person will receive a D.
If you need to use the restroom, do it now.
Anyone who leaves this classroom during the test for any reason won’t be allowed to resume the quiz.
If you leave, you had better have answered every single question. Are we clear?”
Once the professor is satisfied that we understood her expectations, and everyone surrenders all their electronics, she nods and passes a sealed Manila envelope to her T.A.
“These are your quizzes. There are twenty-five questions. Twenty-four are multiple choice, and the last question requires you to elaborate on an item of your choice that was used in Ancient Roman times and is still used today. I expect at least two hundred and fifty words, but no more than a thousand. Victor will start passing your quiz sheets. You aren’t allowed to turn them over and begin until I say you can start.
When you’re done, you can either stay in your seat quietly or exit the classroom.
But don’t go too far; we have the raffle with the topic of your group project before the class is dismissed. ”
I take the stack of quizzes from the girl in the seat in front of me, and after keeping one sheet for myself, I pass the stack to Macklin.
“Jeez,” he whispers, after taking one sheet and passing the rest to Tucker. “If she’s this strict with a quiz that’s worth ten percent of our grade, what is she going to do during finals? Is she gonna ask us to squat and cough?”
Tucker snorts as he takes his own quiz sheet. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”
Colsen turns around to pass the quizzes to the row behind him. “There you go.”
I take a deep breath, steadying myself and relaxing my shoulders in preparation to begin working on the questions. I’ve got this. I studied hard, and making the flashcards for Macklin and Gen helped me retain more information. My memory is always better if I write stuff down.
“Thanks.”
I turn when I hear Genevieve’s voice. She’s in the seat directly behind me. I hadn’t seen her there when Macklin and I arrived.
“I was hoping you’d let me sit behind you in class and make sure your quiz paper is positioned so I can take a look if I get stuck on any questions.”
Her words echo in my ears. I told her I wouldn’t let her cheat off me.
Anxiety floods my system, and I glare at her, debating if I should move.
But the class is packed and there are no spare seats.
If I move, I’ll have to ask someone else to swap seats, and I’m sure the professor will want to know why I moved at the last second.
Gen smiles and waves at me in greeting. She looks the picture of innocence.
Is it possible that I’m being too suspicious? If she wasn’t sitting there when I got here, she can’t have planned this, right? Not in a full classroom. That seat must have been vacant. If she had asked someone to move, we would have heard her.
My gut feeling tells me I shouldn’t trust Gen.
But I don’t want to make a big deal out of nothing.
It’s not like Gen is going to admit that she’s planning to copy off my quiz.
Besides, Professor Cantucci hates when people ask for changes or exceptions, and I don’t want to shine a negative spotlight on myself.
I’ll just cover my sheet with my arm and angle my body so that she can’t see how I’m answering my questions.
The quiz isn’t super easy, but none of the questions give me any problems. I always perform pretty well during tests and exams, and I don’t get exceedingly nervous.
I owe that to my mom. She taught all of us from an early age that if we know we worked hard, we should be confident in our ability to excel.
She also reassured us that she and Dad would be proud of us no matter the result, as long as they saw us work hard.
I finish with ten minutes to spare, and I wonder if I should walk out of the classroom or wait here until the professor calls for everyone to stop writing.
Both Macklin and Tucker are still working on it, writing their answers to the last question.
I don’t know what makes me turn around to look at Gen, but she’s also writing her mini essay. She’s concentrating on her paper and I exhale a relieved breath that she didn’t cause any trouble.