My morning? Total fucking nightmare, since you asked:
prehistoric alarm clock + insane leave-phone-and-tablet-downstairs-overnight rule = oversleeping before ridiculously important exam
Nice one, Mum, mad props. In my ‘best interests’, yer?
No slow-release breakfast for yours truly. Quick release a shit, neck a protein bar and Usain it out the door.
Check my phone… still nothing from Ellie. She says I’m getting weird in bed. I tell her to loosen up – everyone’s doing that stuff now. And even if they’re not, it’s waaaaaay hot and she knows it. At least Ells shaved for me though. Sasha told Del to fuck off and dumped him.
Higher maths is rock and I need to pass, so, yer, been bricking it a bit. Skimming through these questions, though, I reckon I’m covered. Been cramming craaazeee hard – head like f‘kin Hogwarts library.
There is an issue though. It’s the invigilator. I know her. Like fully recognise her. Bugging me something chronic. Saw her just after I found my mad little desk: cute face, curly bed-hair, sexy granny dress and a fine beee-hind.
She’s just started lap two. My leg’s jigging like I’m working a pump. If I place her on the next pass I can still ace this stupid paper.
Invigilator girl’s pacing down my aisle; eyes ping-ponging all about the place. A room full of whirring brains and all I hear is me breathing innnnnn annnnnnd ouuuuuut.
As she draws level, I angle my face satellite-dish style. Our eyes meet – but her face is as blank as my answer booklet.
‘You okay?’ she mouths, stretching the words like a chewy bar. Her lips are really fleshy – salmon pink.
I nod, squeeze out a smile. Invigilator girl glides on.
Then it’s like I glimpse her in my rear view mirror: the girl from the messed up porn. Went round most of Year 11 that clip. Nobody admitted to liking it. Invigilator girl’s not her, but it’s more than what you’d call a passing resemblance. Seriously, they could be sisters. Reckon Del and Nathan will’ve noticed it too.
Pornography’s how boys unwind, yer? Pure. Fantasy. After two hours revising you gots to change the music, man; you shut down some tabs, you open some others. So why did Mum look like her insides were all twisted up after she hacked my tablet and found my shit. She’s had a face like cold pizza ever since. Been talking bollocks about sex addiction. Says I’m going to spoil the ‘true joy of intimacy’ for myself. What the hell, Mum? Seriously cringe.
Forty-eight minutes left on that stupidly massive ticking clock. I’ve got this fully covered. The mind is a machine – you just need to master the buttons and levers. Proper learning equals repetition times reinforcement, yer? There’s a shit tonne of web resources. And retrieval is just slick mnemonics plus con-cen-tra-tion. I can block out thoughts of invigilator-porno-girl, no sweat. That stuff I’m trying on Ells later? Not even going there.
Seriously though, check it out online: repetition and reinforcement. Reckon if you look at stuff ‘nuff times, you can lock that shit in forever. Anything worth learning is basically a finger-tap away. You want to pass at maths? You want to pass at sex? Fully. Covered.
LUCY GOLDRING is based in Bristol and writes short and shorter fiction (along with developing her comedy writing). She has been shortlisted for Flash 500 and the National Flash Fiction Day micro competition (twice in both cases). Lucy has a story in this year’s National Flash Fiction Day anthology and online publications with Ellipsis Zine, Reflex Fiction, 100 Word Story, The Cabinet of Heed and Funny Pearls. You can follow her on Twitter at @livingallover
Image via Pixabay