the a level results scenario game

5th march. young faces. clothes carefully picked to impress. dyed hair. 4 inch heels. and a couple of shaved heads. we walk into the gathering. parquet tiles. the stage, with the stand ready for the principal's address. Some whisper in excited tones. Hugs among a couple of the mascara-lined faces.

On the 2nd floor of the hall, the J2 students sit. Some bored. Some look out for friends. and there are those plugged into an electronic device to shut out the entire world. Bystanders. Yet, in about one revolution of the earth around the sun's axis, they will find themselves in the shoes of those in the above paragraph. Yet. They continue existing as they should. for now, as they think best fit.

I smile as I see familiar faces, grab an arm or two. Linking arms, and with a thumping heart. I await for my fate. We find the assigned line. I continue observing the familiar faces, but in very different costumes. Sigh. The JC masquerade is always full-time. But well, we gather here for the very last time. To be assigned our fate for at least the next 3-4 years.

. Tick. Tock.
Teachers arrive. I prefer not to meet them. They carry the answers to the questions in our mind. Every body language from them, a smile, a glance even, carries a hope and a sinking feeling in the stomach- that is highly based on the prevading 'worse case scenario' thoughts in my mind. Yet, my not so like-minded friends seem to think otherwise. High-pitched voices. Yes. I guess I have nowhere else to go.

Hi Mr. so-and-so! Oh my gosh! You know our results right?! How did I do?! PLEASE PLEASE!

Oh. The arrival of the one we await for has arrived. Teachers take their place. In front of their assigned rows. They stare. some straight-ahead. Some flip through the brochures. Still others share light-hearted, meaningless conversations with the whosoevers. Right. The woman speaks.

". . . this year . . . expectations. . . national . . . As . . . YJC . . teachers. . . you. . "
'can she just cut the crap?'
'lol'
. . . results. . . comparatively . . . "
sighs. a flip in my stomach.

this is where the game begins.

scene 1: the favourable.
and now for the top scorers.
For those who scored 3 H2 A's...

DEEP BREATH.

"... "
"..." (ahh. knew she would get it)
"..." (WOW. didn't expect him to be up there!)
"..." (aiyah.expected.)
"..."
"..."
"..." (why all science students!)

the 4 A's ...

DEEP DEEP BREATH

the 5 A's ...

"..."
"..."
"..."
(Hey Gracia! isn't That YOUR NAME!!)
(OMY GAWSH! GRACIA!!)
my heart stops, my breathing unsteady.
WAIT.
thats my name.
5 As.
resonate that.
equal that.
( GET UP THERE U GOOSE!)

Tears. I smile. Joy. I lift my eyes heavenward. and in the depths of my heart.
I say 'thank you. father'. and I switch on my phone, and make the necessary calls.

Scene 2: the dreaded

and now for the top scorers.
For those who scored 3 H2 A's...

DEEP BREATH.
"... "
"..." (ahh. knew she would get it)
"..." (WOW. didn't expect him to be up there!)
"..." (aiyah.expected.)
"..."
"..."
"..." (why all science students!)

the 4 A's ..
the 5 A's ... and this year's top scorer is ... ..

congratulations to all students. Now your teachers will hand out your certs by your register number. Remember to collect the relevant brochures. Good Luck to you all, and have a great future ahead.

the rumble of noise. Everyone gathers to their feet.
Teachers fulfill their task.
Screams. the sound of cheers, hoorays, YESes, go out into the air. Smiles. Tears of elation. They belong to the hard workers, the dilligent. The ones who day by day, try their best, listen to lectures, hand in their tutorials. Deserving students. They now reap their rewards that they have slogged hard for.

Then. There is the flip-side of the recipients. and I belong to this category. We too shed tears. But we remain silent. The point where I wish the world would just go away, and this was all a nightmare. But reality. I live in my nightmare. Where can I go from here? How am I going to face everyone? 2 years. I guess I should have known. But. 2 years. And this is where I arrive to. . . No. No amount of comfort, words, encouragement can make me feel better. Don't even try Mr. so and so.. Just let me be. I look over at the smiling faces. Why can't I be part of that group?
. . .

Well. I guess this is where I say. Which do I end up with? In just one more week.
One of the scenarios will suffice. Perhaps a third one will, one that involves mediocre grades that will probably be as good as scene 2. ahh well thoughts. I don't understand how any of this will make me feel any better. But I guess its a good laugh. I think this is the best I can come up with, at 3 in the morning and on a hungry stomach.