The Test


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2. Carl

I myself, have never even thought of being one of the failers, i.e. one of the people who go for someone who is not their decided mate, or remain single. The test is always right. I will find my soulmate so I must stick with him. He will not abuse me or break my heart. My life will be safe and comfortable and beautifully predictable. I'm not risking losing my family or my friends, or the neighbourhood I've grown up in for someone who is not my mate.

And with the test, I've got the guarantee I'll be happy.

 

Today's the day. Day of the test.

I've revised everything else for my exams. I've looked at my science notes on my iPhone about a hundred times, and I know my history notes off by heart. I know I'll be okay when it comes to my exams. But my mind keeps wondering about the test. 

I wonder who it'll be. Jack Mackey? George Thawes?  I know who I'm really hoping for, though. Trevor Mandon. He's perfect in every way- kind, sweet and absolutely gorgeous, with blonde hair, green eyes and a slightly muscular build. I've hardly ever spoken to him, but every time he walks by, he shoots me this shy little smile with his perfect white teeth. 

Once, we were paired up together in chemistry class for a project and we worked really well together. We got an A, the highest in our class, and Ms Havney said it would go on our report card. Trevor was so happy he pulled me into this tight hug, and wouldn't let me go for about a minute. It was so magical, being in his arms, so close to him.

Maybe, after the test, I'll be just as close.

I sigh as I stare at my reflection in my bedroom mirror. I'm average- mousy-haired, brown eyed and fairly spotty, but staring and picking out my flaws seems to pass the time. Huh. Funny pasttime, that is.

There's a ring of the doorbell from downstairs. I hear Barney, my ten-year old little brother switch off the TV and bound over to the door. A second later, hardly missing a beat, Barney yells:

"AMANDA! CARL'S HERE!"

"I'll be down in a sec!" I call down, nervously adjusting the mirror. I look at my iPhone a final time, before shutting it off and heading downstairs. Carl's standing at the door, in typical attire- like he's dressed himself blindfolded. Yeah, Carl's never bothered that much with fashion, or matching socks for that matter. Today, though, it seems like he actually cares that his plain blue t-shirt is inside out and on back to front, he keeps fiddling with the collar. He seems nervous. What's up with him?

Me and Carl go way back. We met on the first day of high school. I have no idea how we even became friends, let alone best friends- Carl loves soppy nineties music, I love Calvin Harris. Carl's a booklover, I'm a cinephile. I'm a swimming addict, Carl hates any form of sport. Carl's witty, I'm sarcastic. But we're just so in tune with each other. If we're not feeling the same emotion, one of us is feeling the opposite. We're like two sides of a coin. We balance each other out.

Carl's always been there for me. When whatever drama at school occurred and I rushed off, usually in a fit of tears, Carl would be running after me (panting) and would comfort me. He really is my best friend.

Carl won't meet my eyes. He keeps fidgeting with his clothes.

Something's up.

"You coming?" He asks, heading out the door, and I follow after him.

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