The Snap

It is the day of the Final Exam. All thirty-two of us students are sweating, knowing that our entire futures are dependent on how well we do on this Exam.

We shuffle our feet, waiting for the teacher to open the door and let us in. Some of my classmates are desperately scanning through stacks upon stacks of papers in their hands, trying to absorb as much information as possible. Others are quizzing each other, asking questions and answering them as best they can. But there's one person who has a ... different aura than the others.

I don't think much of it. He's one of those kids who're deemed "weird kids," except that he's a special kind of weird.

Unlike the other "weird kids," people fear him.

My thoughts are interrupted by the teacher, who swings the door open from the inside. Everyone hushes and slowly creeps inside the classroom, sitting in their assigned seats. I nervously sit myself down at the back of the room and watch the other desks become occupied.

Once we are ready to begin, the teacher hands out the exams. A classmate passes a copy to me and I quickly skim the questions on the first page, internally cursing to myself. These questions are hard ...

Before I know it, we are an hour in. The entire room is silent except for the rhythmic ticking of a clock.

The weird kid is the first in the class to stand up. He strides over to the teacher, placing his exam on the desk. The teacher nods slowly, keeping his eyes glued to his book. The kid walks back to his own desk and collapses in his seat, relaxing.

At first, nothing happens. I return my eyes to my exam and read over a question, frowning because I can't process the words. I read it over again, but I can't help feeling like something is off.

What is going on? I need to focus.

I shake my head and skip the question, but the next one is even worse than the last. My stomach begins to churn, and I have to drop my pencil and take a moment to massage my temples.

The sound of a snap reverberates around the otherwise quiet classroom. I don't think much of it; someone probably just snapped their fingers.

But ...

My stomach is killing me. It's like my entire body is screaming at me, telling me that something is wrong. My hands are shaking, and I try to pick up my pencil, only to drop it on the floor. Before I can reach down to pick it up, it begins to roll away towards the front of the classroom.

My eyes trail upward. Suddenly, it's like I can't control my body anymore. I can't breathe. My knees feel weak. My eyes are beginning to water because I can't afford to look away and blink for a single millisecond.

It's the weird kid. His shoes and socks are off, and he's resting his bare feet on his desk.

And words that should never ever be spoken come out of his mouth:

"I snapped my toes."