Neck Under the Guillotine

There is nothing worse than placing your neck on the block and waiting for the guillotine to fall. Waiting, waiting, waiting, and waiting. Nothing happens, and you're just stuck there, neck stretched

Neck Under the Guillotine

 

            Amelia stared at the white paper clutched in her hands. It was stained in neat, black ink, further marred by jagged gray streaks that spelled out words, letters, and equations that she didn’t understand.

 

            “For those of you who scored lower than seventy-five percent, you should come see me…”

 

            There were some large numbers written in bold red pen at the top of the paper, and Amelia could not tear her eyes away from them. The ink seemed to begin running, dripping down the paper and making it bleed.

 

            “…didn’t expect such low scores, but it seems like you all need to work harder. If you don’t understand…”

 

            The blue X’s seemed to laugh at her, giggling madly and waving their stiff limbs from their places on the paper, lying on top of mathematical numbers and grinning cheerfully at her. Demons that they were, they far outnumbered the checks that sporadically dotted the pages and surrounded Amelia with evil cackles.

 

            “…We’ll go onto the next unit soon, so for now, you’re all dismissed for lunch.”

 

            The clatter of chairs being pushed back from desks and the empty murmurs of her classmates as they trickled out of the classroom didn’t register with Amelia, not with those numbers smirking at her. Slowly, she peeled her eyes away and glared at the clock, wishing the hands would being to spin, spin, spin back time.

 

            “-lia. Amelia, it’s time for lunch!”

 

            The sound of Mr. Hawkin’s voice pulled Amelia out of her reverie. She gazed blankly at him for a while, eyes unfocused and glazed over. Mr. Hawkin’s cocked his head to the side and gave her a vaguely concerned look. “Are you feeling alright?”

 

            She snapped.

 

            “Fine, just fine, Mr. Hawkin!” Amelia announced brightly. “Sorry about that; I was just spacing out for a few seconds there. Did you want something?”

 

            “It’s time for lunch,” he responded dryly. “Everyone’s left already, and you’re the only one left. Is there a problem you want to talk to me about?”

 

            “Not especially.” Amelia laughed nervously. “Though there were a few questions I was confused about on the test…”

 

            A few? More like, over half.

 

            “Really. Why don’t you come find me after school to talk about it? I’ll be in my office as usual.”

 

            “Gotcha, Mr. Hawkin.”

 

            As the tall figure of her math teacher strode off in the direction of the cafeteria, Amelia sighed and looked down at the test in her hands. It was now crumbled and wrinkled at the edges where her hands had gripped too tightly. Starting from the bottom, Amelia let her eyes drift upwards to the top of the page.

 

            81%.

 

            The numbers were still the same. They hadn’t changed, not that she had expected them to. Leaning back in her seat, Amelia considered those numbers with a strange type of detachment. She had been confident in at least a B, so how did she end up with a C?

 

            Figuring she could mull over it during lunch, Amelia pushed her chair back and made her way out the door. It was drizzling slightly outside, and she pulled her hoodie over her head to shield herself from the scattered raindrops.

 

            Amelia walked slowly across the asphalt, unable to stop thinking about the test that had been in her hands and now lay face down underneath her books. Logically, hiding it wouldn’t change reality, but it was the only thing she could do for now.

 

            All of a sudden, the feelings contained within her surged up like waves during a storm, desperately fighting their way out of her chest. The waves rose higher and higher, until they were trickling out of her eyes in the form of small dribbles of water.

           

            Amelia paused her steps to wipe at her eyes in annoyance. What was the point of crying over one bad grade? It was utterly foolish, but somehow she couldn’t stop the tears from coming.

 

            Blinking upward in a useless attempt to stop their downward descent, she couldn’t stop her lips from quirking upward in a sarcastic smirk.

 

            “I didn’t think that crying in the rain was possible outside of melodramatic teenage romance novels,” Amelia commented. The drizzle had turned into a steady downpour, one that soaked through the thin material of her jacket and was making its way to her undergarments. Cursing, Amelia ran toward the shelter of the cafeteria, thanking the rain for making it impossible to see that she had been crying.

 

~X~

 

            “So you got a bad grade, so what?” Derrick asked as he waved his fork around. It hovered indecisively in the air before plunging back into his mix of rice and tomato sauce. “I mean, a bad test grade makes up around 0.00057% of your final grade, so why bother worrying?”

 

            “Did you know that 97% percent of all statistics are made up on the spot, including this one?” Alex countered calmly as he picked at the bare plate in front of him. “I doubt the percentage is that low.”

 

            Amelia groaned and stabbed viciously into the chicken on her plate. “You guys don’t get it! I’m so screwed that I’m going to die.”

 

            “Over a C?” Alex asked while making a disgusted face at the way Derrick was shoving food into his mouth. “I doubt it.”

 

            “You don’t know my parents!” Amelia screeched. “They expect A’s, not freakin’ C’s! And they won’t let me leave the house alive or even go near my computer again!”

 

            “Then just don’t tell them,” Derrick mumbled around a mouthful of rice. He swallowed loudly and continued, “It’s not like not knowing one measly test grade will hurt them,” he stated.

           

            Amelia stared at him, horrified. “I can’t hide my grades from my parents!” she said, aghast.

 

            “I’ve been doing that for six years,” Derrick remarked casually, quickly returning to his food and cleaning his plate rapidly.

                       

            “I never tell my parents anything,” Alex chimed in, for once in agreement with Derrick. “If you do that, you won’t have to worry about it, and your parents won’t know. Win-win.”

 

            Amelia glared morosely out the window. She had settled down somewhat after being exposed to the warmth of the cafeteria and the presence of her companions, but the panicky feeling hadn’t disappeared or diminished in the least. In fact, the bare reality of her grade seemed to be slapping her in the face now.

 

            “If only I could turn back time,” Amelia began. “I would make sure that I actually studied properly this time.”

 

            “If I could turn back time, I’d kill Hitler,” Alex groused out sourly. He seemed rather put out by her attitude. “Seriously, stop freaking out over it. What’s the big problem anyways?”

 

            “I didn’t get a good grade. Not getting a good grade means that I can’t get into a good college, and not getting into a good college means that I won’t get a good job. If I don’t get a good job, then how am I supposed to support my family when I’m older?”

 

            Derrick and Alex stared at her in disbelief. “That’s stupid,” they said in unison.

 

            Amelia flushed a bright red. “It’s not! It’s logical, and that’s how the world works. If you can’t make a place for yourself in the world, then you have nowhere to go.”

 

            Derrick sighed in a resigned way and pushed his plate away from himself. “I can see that you’ll overreact over anything, so just tell your parents and get it over with. It’s like sticking your neck under a guillotine. The blade will fall with a swish, and then your head will be on the ground. Really fast and simple.”

 

            “That was a lovely metaphor,” Alex said sarcastically.

 

            “I do my best,” Derrick responded.

 

            At that, Amelia slammed her hands into the table and stood roughly. “Thank you both for all your wonderful help, but I have to go back to class now,” she declared, not even bothering to conceal the anger and frustration in her voice. “So I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, assuming I’m still alive, that is.”

 

            As her two friends watched her storm off, Derrick commented idly, “High expectations are rough.”

 

            Alex merely nodded in agreement.

 

~X~

 

            “How was your day?” Amelia’s dad asked as she climbed into the back of the car. Her older brother had immediately claimed shotgun, leaving her to sit behind the two of them.

 

            “Fine,” was the short reply.

 

            “Anything interesting happen? Get any tests back?”

 

            Amelia took a deep breath. Her hands fumbled with the seatbelt for a few moments before finally clicking it into place. She blinked several times as her mind ran through various scenarios, each one worse than the last.

 

            I should tell him, was the main thought, but despite how clear it was in her mind, Amelia’s mouth made no move to say those words. Just like a guillotine. Say it quick and get it over with.

 

            Your conscience is like a window, Amelia reminded herself, repeating the words of a Sunday morning message. Everything you ignore it, you throw dirt onto it until you can’t see out of it anymore. You must take care of your conscience.

 

            Just say it. Say it. Parents know everything, and this will be better than waiting. Say it. SAY IT!

 

            “Nope, not yet,” she lied. “We didn’t do anything in class today.”

 

            “Is that so?” Was it her imagination, or was there a knowing glint in her father’s eyes? “Be sure to tell me when you receive your grade then.”

 

            Amelia swallowed. “I will.”

 

            All this time, she was all too aware of the piece of paper crammed into her backpack, burning with the cruelty of truth. Despite the resolution to tell her father once they reached home, Amelia knew that it would never happen.

 

            And her neck was stretched onto the wooden block. Hands tied behind her back, wood roughly biting at sensitive skin, she waited for the gleaming blade to fall on her neck. Nothing happened, and there was only waiting. Waiting, waiting, and waiting.

Reviews

[Moo]

From the beginning...
The title is a bit dramatic. You see "neck under the guillotine" and expect some hero adventure story, then it's, rather anticlimactically, math. (Not that math isn't exciting, but still. ;))

First section. (IMO) a bit of logic discrepancy. Why would she be so devastated if she scored only one letter grade below? Something like 60% would make more sense (especially for that detail "A few? More like, over half." and the "lower than 75% come see me")
Perhaps something ironic like "A beautiful tessellation of X's marred by the occasional check-mark."
"...Amelia commented." is somewhat weak. You could add something like "dryly" or "already beyond caring."
"...for making it impossible to see that she had been crying." - for washing away her tears before they could be seen? for... some stronger description would make it more interesting.

The next passage is very good. Maybe you could intersperse it with "like," like: "makes up *like* 0.00057% of your grade." Interesting introduction of the metaphor. (I like it)

Last passage good; the thinking portion is a bit long for the instant it seems to take - maybe even a bit more suspicion on the part of the father, forcing the blade just a little bit closer.
I love the last paragraph. Perhaps you could integrate the metaphor even more - "the rope cruelly hung loose and uncut" or something like that.

Nice work, as usual!
--Moo