Cold As Ice by L. Divine Page A

school—I have a mama who would kick my ass if I ever made a habit out of not only missing school but running away from a challenge.
    My phone vibrates in my hand, and I flip it open. I don’t wear a watch, so I use the pink cell as a clock between periods. I quickly read another text from Nellie that says she’s going to meet me at Chance’s house instead of riding there with me as we originally planned. I’m already regretting agreeing to go with her to Chance’s house after school. Nellie sure does know how to get her way. Last night while I attempted to study after work, she texted me repeatedly until I agreed to be her personal cheerleader at the family dinner. If it weren’t for Chance also requesting my presence, I probably wouldn’t go. I had to give in if I wanted to get any studying done, which wasn’t much by the time I got off the phone with her. I’ll have to make up for my lack of proper studying tonight after dinner. I already requested this afternoon off from work and can’t give up too much of my time for Nellie or anyone else.
    Charlotte and her rich-bitch crew are already seated in the row of desks across from mine, ready for the exam. Even Alia looks content seated at the desk next to me. I take my seat and a deep breath, ready to deal with whatever comes of this test. I just want it to be over. The sooner Mrs. Malone gets in here, the better.
    â€œGood morning, class,” Mrs. Malone says, Mrs. Bennett walking in behind her. Doesn’t she have her own class to teach? Every time I look up, the broad has got her hands up in someone else’s mix. Then I see Jeremy walk in, and the rest of his class follows. I guess the Honors and Advanced Placement classes are joining forces today. Lucky me.
    â€œGood morning, boys and girls,” Mrs. Bennett says, sounding like she’s hosting an episode of Sesame Street instead of an eleventh-grade English class. She’s so fake a blind person could see straight through her.
    â€œWe’re going to make space for Mrs. Bennett’s class to take the exam with us. We will start in exactly one minute, so get comfy,” Mrs. Malone says, directing the students to fill in the twenty or so empty seats in the room while Mrs. Bennett passes out the papers. The AP courses have about half the enrollment of other classes. Jeremy sits across the room, winking at me as he takes his seat. He opted out of the AP track last year, but it’s not like he needs the extra stress. Jeremy’s had straight As since elementary school and one of the highest grade point averages in the entire school. He can get into almost any college he wants to, as long as he does well on the SAT exams next year.
    â€œAnd we’ll stay through break to grade the exams,” Mrs. Bennett says, being the bearer of bad news that she usually is. “Let’s begin.” Mrs. Bennett closes the door and looks at the clock. Like I said before, whatever the outcome, I just want it to be over.
    Exactly fifty-five minutes from our start time, Mrs. Malone softly says, “Time,” and we all put our pencils down. That was the most grueling exam I’ve ever experienced. Some of the words were completely foreign to me, and the concepts in the three short-essay questions were unfamiliar. I consider myself to be pretty intelligent when it comes to the English language, but this was definitely some strange shit.
    â€œPlease switch papers with the person to your right and pass your essay questions up to the front,” Mrs. Malone says, turning on the projector near her desk, displaying the answers and grading scale to the multiple-choice questions. Mrs. Bennett collects the essays to start grading. After several minutes of quiet grading, we get to see our papers. I don’t even want to know my grade.
    â€œSo, Miss Jackson, do you see why I didn’t want you on the AP track?” Mrs. Bennett asks, returning my essay exam to