The Examination

The Exam

“Thats it! Ive had enough! If you dont stop going on and on, I wont bother with the exam at all! Ill just skip it! Dont even show up! What will you do then, eh?!” Emily hurled her rucksack into the corner of the hallway and yanked her woolly hat off.

Her mum didnt respond. She simply shook her head and vanished into the kitchen, trailing the scent of stewed tea and silent disappointment.

Emily shrugged off her coat, eyeing up the rucksacks haphazard landing, but then changed her mind and hung her coat neatly in the cupboard, sighing deeply.

Ah well, here we go again, she thought. Another row, and for what? Nothing, really. The classic standoff over nothing at all.

Why did her mother have to keep badgering her, poking her with all those questions and bits of advice? Did she think Emily was still a little girl? Or was she losing her marbles?

Of course Emily remembered she had lessons today with her new private tutor! There was no need to remind her every half-hour as if her head was full of fluff!

If she was honest, her mum hadnt harped on relentlessly. Shed just asked, did Emily remember about the new English and literature tutorthe third one that year. But her mums urge to keep a grip on her life was like a grain of sand in a shoe, and Emilys quick flashes of anger came so easily these days, even when there was no real reason.

Emily washed her hands and stared at herself in the bathroom mirror.

Some visionspots on her chin, dads stubby nose, mums wild untameable hair, all in the mirrors glare. How many times had Emily asked if she could dye her hair? “No, Em, beauty comes with time, and youll thank me for it one day,” her mum declared, sounding ancient and wise. Emily, hair wild and ginger, the only one left in school with actual plaits. Plaits! Who under thirty still wore those?

Emily smirked, remembering her mums crestfallen face the time shed shorn the unwanted braids off with blunt childhood scissors, not much more than a relic from some old craft set. No better ones around. Clenching her teeth, shed hacked through the sturdy ginger ropes, bracing herself for that inevitable cry”Emily, why?!”

Because! Enough of being the garden scarecrow! This was her life, her rules. She would decide what to do, thank you very much.

Everyone always insisted you had to listen to grown-ups. But why? Their old-timey views just werent for her. Theyd grown up without even the internethow could they possibly relate? Honestly, how did people survive back then? And however you explained that everything was different now, it wouldnt sink in. You didnt need hours with your head in booksjust poke your finger at a screen, three seconds, and there it is. Anything you like, straight from the source. Of course her mother insisted the internet wouldnt teach you how to be a person, how to talk face-to-face. What did she know? She should take a course in teenager communications or something and get a bit smarter.

Emily absentmindedly picked at a scab from her latest “eruption” and winced. Good thing her mum wasnt watchingshed have a right old shout. Her mum still dragged her to the doctor and grimly warned that marks would be left for life, but Emily didnt care! Shed be appreciated for what was inside, not outside! How could she explain that to her mum?

Parent… What a word. Yes, her mum gave birth to her, but that didnt give her ownership! Emily wasnt her property! And her mum definitely shouldnt boss her around the way she did.

Emily winked at her reflection.

So what do you say to that, Mum? Thatll teach you to force tutors and push me toward law school against my will. Emily actually knew more about law than both her parents put together. If only theyd been half as savvy, the divorce might not have been such a disaster.

Her mum had no pride or ambition. Dad left for someone younger, split the house as he pleased, and her mum barely protested. Sure, the flat that grandma left went to Emily, but even so! All her mum got was a monthly child maintenance payment and that was it! No compensation for wasted years? Emily had seen it allthe silent hatred as her mum set dinner down, the chilly “cheers” from her dad on the way out, the transforming of a cramped study into Dads new bedroom, setting alarm clocks just so they wouldnt see each other in the morning… Whenever Emily thought about it all, it felt like she was the one holding the threadbare family together until she turned fourteen, stood between them, and told them to get on with it and leave each other in peace. How long could it go on?

But grown-ups were odd. Always going on about “living for you” and “youre the meaning of our lives.”

Liesfrom beginning to end! Everyone lived for themselves. Let anyone say it wasnt so, and Emily would pull out a heap of examples. Even when it came to her so-called best interests, her parents only thought of themselves. Shed become a bargaining chip for their tricky negotiations.

Take the flat they now called home. Same block, different entrance, smaller flat. Used to be three bedrooms, now just two and a box-room. Renovated, nice enough, but Emilys mum got the flat on the back of her dads guilt”the child needs decent surroundings!” Dad, eager to be free of nagging, handed it over, and everyone kept the peace. Emily ended up in the best room, sure, but it had nothing to do with anyone caring about her. Just smooth property division, pure and simple, and Emily was a shock-absorber between them.

She wrinkled her nose, picked up the tin of ointment the doctor gave her, and dabbed it on her chinjust for tonight. Not that her mum was right! Simply that the ointment genuinely helped. She needed it nowtonight was for the roof.

The roof was new in Emilys lifea recent addition in the weird dreamscape of her days. A few months ago, Tom, the schools golden boy whom Emily had only admired from afar, sent her a message. “Fancy going for a wander?”

At first shed thought it was some kind of cruel joke. Everyone in their year knew Emily fancied Tom. People laughed about it, but good-naturedly. She was well-likedalways handed round her homework, bailed classmates out in lessons, that sort of thing.

When shed shown the message to her best mate, Molly, Molly had snorted,

“So what, Em? Go and ask him yourself! Stop acting like some Regency heroine! Girls ask boys out now, you know?”

But Emily couldnt explain the sudden whirl of emotions that overtook her when Toms single word finally settled in her chest like a pebble dropped down a well.

She went to meet him as planned. Everything changed from there.

The roof was the top of an abandoned block, reclaimed by teenagers years agonot exactly safe, but Emily didnt care whenever Tom took her hand and said, “Careful, mind your step.” Her breath would hitch, and shed count the steps upwards.

“Fifteen, sixteen… Go on, thirty-two, thirty-three… Whats there to fear? Hes here…”

It was up on that rooftop that Tom first hugged her. No warning, no speeches. In front of everyone, his arm around her shoulder as if to declare, “Shes mine.”

No one objected, though Emily saw the sideways glances from girls in the other class. Tom had known them for years, but for some reason, he’d chosen Emily.

That was where he first kissed her as well.

That evening, they stayed up there alone; everyone else trailed off for the cinema. Emily had wanted to see the film too, but when Tom squeezed her hand and said theyd go on their own another night, she stayed without complaint, sensing this night would be special.

And so it was. For weeks after, the memory would catch her unpreparedshed close her eyes and hear his voice.

“Em, I like you. Really. Im no good with words, but I want you to know, Ive never met anyone better than you. Can I…?”

His lips, gentle and strange, still warmed her in the coldest moments.

Emily shut her eyes now, hoping for that feeling, but was quickly interrupted by her mothers soft knocking on the bathroom door.

“Emily, youll be late. Lunch is on the table…”

Anger surged through her. Again, and again!

She burst out of the bathroom like an avenging fury. Her face scrunched, terrifying as some meme shed once seen onlinea snarling, winged witch scolding someone off camera.

“What do you want from me?! I havent forgotten anything! Get off my back! Dad left you alreadynow youre after me? Ill go live with Dad, yeah? If you dont stop it…”

The words failed her, as her mum let out a strange sigh and, for the first time ever, slapped her hard across the cheek.

“Go on, then. And when you come home tonight, dont forgetyour mock English exam is tomorrow. Get some sleep…”

Emily was stunned. Her mum had never hit her before. Not once, not ever. And it wasnt the slap that hurtit was the shock that her mum had finally stopped putting up with Emilys tantrums.

But admit defeat? Out of the question. Backpack, coat, headphones… She was tempted to slam the front door, just to make everyone jump, but instead, left quietly. No need to give more ammo for accusations of hysteria.

Outside in the grey English drizzle, Emily checked her phone. Travel time, another hour with the tutor, and then she could see Tomif only at six. Fine by her! Let her mum worry for a bit; it did her good. Dad didnt answer her mums calls first time anymore, so Emily would get Toms advicemaybe hed know what to do. His folks didnt interfere, let him have his own bank card and enough money to be independent. Proper grown-ups, those two. They thought sixteen was the age to grow up, let him do part-time jobs, even handed over all exam prep. “Futures yours to decide.” Why couldnt her mum be like that?

Her dad rang as Emily reached the tutor’s driveway.

“Whats going on now? Your mother says youre moving in with me?”

“Oh, Dad! Listen less. I dont want your problems. Claires about to have your baby, and Im not looking after it. Ive got enough on my plate!”

“Alright. And dont fight with your mother. Or Im cutting off your allowance. Got it?”

“Thats what I like about you, Dadstraight to the point. Got it!”

“Good. And stop giving your mum so much grief. She doesnt deserve it.”

He hung up. Emily scowled. Always like thistheir war abandoned, but they teamed up the minute her life was involved. It was all so strange.

She found the new tutor cold and unimpressive, only telling her to read some marked chapters. She protested, but a few of his points made sense, and she decided the extra reading couldnt hurt.

She didnt want to be a fool, especially not around Tom. All the videos about relationships agreed: “A girl should be smart and independent.” Smartokay, something she could work on. Even her mum, for all her exasperation, had managed to collect herself and get a diploma eventually.

Her mum had left university when Emily was born, first on maternity leave, then ditching the idea altogetherit was simply too difficult, with no family nearby to help. Emily had been sickly as a child, and hated nurseryawful porridge, horrible children, no mums warm arms. Her dad used to say, “Youre too attached. She needs to be more independent.” When Emily hit Year 2, her mum went back to uni by correspondence and got a job, arranging wedding venuessomething Emily secretly admired. Her mum became the boss at work, strong, decisive. Emily wished she had a little of that power herself.

But no matter what, maternal supervision was a force of its own. At least now, her mum respected a knock before coming in and barely meddled, but managed to keep a subtle eye on all Emilys moves with gentle questioning:

“Em, howre things? Whats on the timetable today? Hungry?”

It was enough to make Emily howl with frustration. “Leave me alone! I’m grown up!”

Sometimes she did just thatshouted, stamped her feet, but her mum only ever treated it as childish antics.

After tutoring, Emily dashed toward the rendezvous spot, hoping for Toms arms and the chance to forget everything: parents, exams, the rest of lifes nonsense. Everyone else was missing the pointall she wanted was out.

But at the school gates, Tom was nowhere to be seen. Emily hovered, checking her phone. No answer to her calls. Something wasnt right.

She ascended the stony steps to the rooftop alone, every stair creaking as if inside a fairytale. It felt oddly perilous without Toms familiar hand to guide her. Each footfall was heavier, her chest tighter.

The rooftop, swept by a chill spring wind, yawned silent and empty.

No lads mucking about. No one at all.

She half-turned to leave, fumbling for her phone, when she caught movement by the edge. She froze, heart pounding, fear balled up in her throat until a familiar outline resolved.

“Tom…”

He sat right at the brink, legs dangling, shoulders hunched. Emily, though she barely knew him, realised something was breaking him apart inside. Something had happened.

Scared, but resolute, Emily dropped her rucksack softly and stepped onto the roof, not daring to call his name.

“Hi…”

She sat on the parapet, not too close to the dizzying drop into dusk. Her feet stayed planted on solid roof. Heights had terrified her since childhood, but she was here now, for Tom.

“Hi,” he said eventually without looking at her. Emily reached out and squeezed his handit was ice-cold.

“Youre freezing…”

“Huh?” He turned, his eyes empty, worlds away from the spark she knewa mystery and a warning in that blankness.

Maybe, right then, she understood what her mum felt during their rowsthe raw, animal panic of not being able to reach someone you love.

She heard her own voice as if from afar, uncannily like her mums:

“Are you alright?”

He echoed, “No… No, Em, Im not.”

“Something happened.”

It wasnt a question. That, too, seemed to workTom nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Can I know what? I get were not that close, but if you want to share…”

Tom looked at her, strangely, almost as if hed never really seen her before.

“You think were not close?”

“No, not like thatI just mean, youre important to me. But Im not sure if… if you see me the same way.”

“Em, youre all I have in the world.”

Her heart skipped so many beats she thought he must hear the wild drum of it against her ribs.

“What about your parents?” she blurted, still reeling. His reaction brought her back hard to reality.

He flinched violently. “Careful!”

“Yeah! Hold tight! Maybe push me off, the way they did!”

“Who?”

“The ones I called family! Im not really theirs. My mum gave me my adoption files todayexplained everything. Im adopted, Em. I sort of always suspected, but now I know I was living someone elses life all these years. I took someone else’s place. Thats not my story!”

He shouted, and Emily gripped his icy hand, determined not to let go. She could almost see him poised to fade into the night if she did.

She knew then with absolute certainty what shed never really faced about herself: all her struggles for adulthood, her railing at her parentsutterly pointless compared to this.

“Tom, Im scared,” she sobbed, surprising herself. That seemed to bring him round; he turned, confused.

“Heywhy?”

She clung to him, fiercely. “Dont. Please. Even if they sent you away, Ill never give up what we have. Youre all Ive got, Tom!”

“Im not Tom,” he whispered, strange and hollow. Emily, blinking through her tears, tried to see his face.

“What?”

“I used to be called Oliver. Different surname, even.”

“It doesnt matter! Youre you. Thats all that matters for me. Hear me?”

“Yeah. But not everyone will see it that way. Em, what am I supposed to do? Where do I go now?”

“Cant go home? They really sent you away?”

“No. Mum begged me to stay. But Dad… I hit him.”

“Why?”

“He tried to lock the door, stop me leaving. Yelled at me that I didnt understand anything.”

“And youdo you understand? All of it? Are you sure?”

“What are you on about? Whats there to understand?” He was nearly shouting with pain.

“Why did they decide to tell you now?”

The wind snatched away her question. Tom hunched further, deep inside himself, until at last he gasped, “I dont know…”

Now, for the first time, Emily heard a question in his voiceno longer sheer despair. She knew as long as that question lived, the roofs edge wouldnt win.

“Shall I come with you?”

“Where?”

“To your parents. Well go together, and theyll tell you why they told you the truth now. Then, if you like, well come back here, and you can do whatever you want. I wont stop you.”

She met his searching gaze, then squeezed his hand and gently tugged him away from the rim.

“Come on.”

Tom let her draw him in from the edge, one step at a time, as though all that mattered was what he still had to do, not what was left behind.

“Im such a coward…”

“Youre not, you know!” Emily said indignantly, half-dragging him toward the door. “Anyone would snap if they heard something like that. Honestly!”

She tripped, and Tom caught her.

“Careful!”

“Look whos talking.” She flicked on her phone torch. “Lets go. Weve got a lot to do.”

That evening would never leave either of them.

The talk with Toms parents, heavy and halting.

The reconciliation, when Tom learned his real father was soon to leave prison, threatening revelation.

The tears of the woman who became his mum, whod raised the child of her best, lost friend.

“My other mum…”

“Yes, Tom, it was your father…”

“And now he wants”

“He wants to see you.”

“I dont want that.”

“You dont have to. Well support whatever you decide.”

They talked and talked. Emily knew neither of them would go back to the roof again. Not tonight, not any night. Something fundamental had shifted inside them bothold dreams yielding to the new.

When, near midnight, Emily let herself quietly into the flat, she found her mother as ever in the kitchen windows half-light, her silhouette familiar as dusk over the rooftops. Emily hugged her tight, pressing her nose into the wild curls at her mums neck, breathing in the warm, comforting scent of her perfume.

“Sorry…”

And softly, from her mumwhose care had always been the constant of Emilys world,

“And Im sorry too. Are you hungry?”

“No, Mum. Thanks. You know, I think I passed an exam today…”

“What exam, love? You havent got them for weeks yet, have you?”

“I think it was the most important one, Mum. Ill tell you about it one day.”

“Why not now?”

“Ive got my mock tomorrow. I need to sleep…”