Gregory Kirk

Geometry Test

I am a maths freak. Yes, I like maths. Every aspect of it, and I am quite good at the subject. So, when an unexpected ten-minute test on geometry was announced by the teacher today, I didn't really get bothered, as most of my classmates did. I simply took out a sheet of paper and waited for the subjects to be given.

I started writing the very next moment and everything seemed to go smoothly. That was for the previous five minutes or so. So, now I do have a small problem. I know I can do it. I feel it. But for some reason, I am stuck. So, I raise my eyes to breathe and clear my mind.

I can't help but notice him. Gregory. He sits one row in front of me, one column to my right. He sits, looking straight at the blackboard, elbows on the desk, rolling his pen between his palms and his sheet is blank. I mean he hasn't written anything.

I like the guy. I mean, we don't speak much because of all these interruptions, but from the little we do interact, I get the feeling he is a nice guy. "You can do it, Gregory! Try! Write anything. Even half is better than nothing," I think to myself and then I realise what I had been doing wrong. So, I turn back to my paper and continue.

I finish exactly the moment the teacher says, "Pens down. Time is up."

I turn to see Gregory. His sheet is still blank, but he doesn't look at all upset. Then the teacher starts collecting our sheets. When he gets to Gregory, Gregory turns to him, smiling politely, and hands him his sheet. The teacher turns the sheet around and puts it on the stack and goes on.

It isn't blank! Don't tell me he had finished in less than five minutes! It's impossible. Right?

So, now, a few days later, the marked tests are given back for us to see our marks and mistakes and then return them to the teacher. I have an 18. I was expecting 19, but it is good nonetheless. I turn discreetly to look at Gregory's test. He has a 20. A perfect score?!?! And he had finished in what? Four minutes? Is he a genius or something?

The bell rings. Anna Dale stands up with a huge grin summoning her followers. Gregory goes to her side. "Am I a Goddess or what? I scored 17.5!"

Gregory claps his hands and with extreme excitement jumps on the spot and says, "Oh my Gods, Anna! You are a genius!" Anna grins even more.

"Oh, cut it out!" she says in a so very obviously fake modest tone. Then she asks the rest for their scores and she smiles more and more as she listens to their scores, which all are far lower than hers. Gregory doesn't speak, just looks at everybody with wide open eyes and a "bravo" follows every announcement.

"How did you do, Greg?" Anna finally asks. Shove it to her face, Gregory!

But no! He just waves his hands, as if a fly tries to land on his nose, and seriously says, "Don't ask!"

"Oh, come on! It can be that bad!"

"I'll tell you one thing. One of the two digits of the mark was a zero and it wasn't a 10."

"Oh Greg! I don't believe it! Under the pass mark? Oh my God! Poor Greg!" but she sounds rather happy. The girls hug him and fake-comfort him for a while, and I am there, looking at him and admiring him.

I knew they don't really like him. I have heard them badmouthing him behind his back, but I thought he didn't know. He always acts like he doesn't. Like he considers them to be real friends. But he is not a fool after all. And I mean, what he said – my God! – it wasn't a lie actually. There was a zero, and it wasn't ten. But he so perfectly said the truth, giving a false impression. I think I like him even more.

Then he says, "Nature calls, girls. Sorry!" and he runs off.

I follow him. I want to catch up with him in the toilets and congratulate him. No matter who he is, he would like somebody to say a good word to him. Right? But he doesn't go to the toilets. He just gets out of the school building and sits on the stairs.

I go down and turn to face him, standing just in front of him. He rests his chin on his palm. As I pass by his side going down the stairs, he turns his head to the other side. "Hi, Gregory!"

He turns to me, his head still on his palm, but now it is the cheek resting on it, not the chin. "Oh! Hello, Jim. How did you score?" and he smiles.

"Eighteen."

"Oh, congrats! This is very good, Jim." He smiles cutely and wider. No clapping, no jumping. I feel like he is much more honest with me than with the girls. This makes me even happier, but, for some reason, I feel my heart racing as I try to find the courage to ask him the question. I really, and I mean really, don't want him to lie to me. I don't know why, but I really don't.

"How about you?"

His smile fades. He turns to his left. Again it is his chin that is on his palm. "I got a twenty," he says quietly.

"Congratulations, Gregory!" and my joy is overflowing and, I don't know why, but I know it is obvious in my voice.

He turns again his look on me, his cheek back in his palm, and a very nice and cute smile I have never before seen him with, I must say, forms on his face. "Thank you, Jim. Really, thank you."

"Don't talk to the faggot, Jim! He will turn you into one too!" Mark screams.

"Shut the fuck up, Mark!" I yell to him, but when I turn to talk to Gregory again, he has already run away. Shit! I thought we had come a little closer. Shit!