I really need to work on my time management skills. I’m not saying this because it’s three in the morning and I’m working on a paper that’s due in five hours, or because earlier today I spent six hours straight watching makeup tutorials (I don’t even own makeup) and food porn videos. No, I’m saying this because after I finish my paper and head to school the mail will arrive, and since my Dad stays at home he’ll be the first to look at my school report card, along with a note from a teacher telling them how good I’ve been. Hint: I haven’t.

Usually I ‘fix’ my grades by hacking into the school’s site way before they print the grade reports out, but this time I was busy hacking someone else’s grades. I’ll get into who, and why, later. In the end, I succeeded in changing their grades, but I didn’t leave enough time for mine since the teachers had already printed out the grades and written their reports. I know this because I passed by the teacher’s lounge yesterday and saw them frantically filling out reports in a flurry of papers and pens. Usually they slack more and start later, but this time they seemed very high-strung. Maybe an Engine, or someone else important, is making a school visit soon.

It’s over half past three now. Fuck, I only have three pages written out of six. For now, I just need to focus on finishing this paper and not dying from anxiety and lack of sleep. Can you die from them? Are the two mixed together like drugs and alcohol, where on their own they’re only debilitating, but together they cause organs to explode? Or at least that’s what the PowerPoint on drinking and drugging I watched when I was in first grade said. I look at the clock again: 3:37 am.

“Shit,” I whisper to myself. Then I wildly look around to make sure my parents didn’t wake up. I’m telling you, it’s like they have ears everywhere when I swear, or any other time I say something even remotely disrespectful. Except, when it comes to asking them for favors, they suddenly become deaf centenarians. They’re such wonderful parents. Ok, now I’m focusing and getting this paper done.

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When I arrive at school, I see that the teachers are even more frantic than before, running down the halls with files stuffed under their arms and leaving classes unattended. Perfect. I arrive at my classroom and take a peak inside, hoping for a similar lack of order. No one’s at the front desk, so I shuffle to the back of the class, take a seat and pull out my laptop, and start scrolling through other student’s grades. I had finished my paper earlier, and while I was trying to get a couple hours of sleep I figured out how to change my grade and not be immediately caught: if I can find someone with my exact grades, I can change mine to all A’s and blame the teachers for printing out the wrong report. I’ll still have to wait until I get home and ‘find out’ about their ‘mistake’, otherwise it’ll be obvious I cheated in some way, but hey, no last-minute plan is perfect.

Do I feel guilty trying to trick the teachers? Slightly. But the thought of facing my parents with not only a horrible teacher’s note, but also a B+, makes me want to start planning my own funeral. Also, considering the panic the teachers are in, they might even buy it. Even the best of us make mistakes under pressure.

I stop scrolling and look closer at one person’s grades: A’s in everything but Chemistry, in which they have a B+.

“Yes!” I whisper, throwing my arms up into the air and my head back. I feel relieved until I see ten heads turn towards me. Shit. I gaze back at my classmates and smile sweetly. I don’t want to draw attention to what I’m doing. After all, it’s illegal, and whoever stays to study when the teacher’s absent is probably the type of person to report everybody who sneezed in class. I'm not even kidding, I once witnessed a student giving a rundown of every move each student made during class to an extremely bored teacher.

After a couple seconds of staring, they turn their heads away in unison, and I almost burst out laughing because of how robotic they look. At the last moment I stifle my giggles, so I don’t draw attention to myself again, and focus on hacking into my grades.

Thirty minutes later I've finished erasing all my digital trails. Stretching, I look around the room and see the population has dwindled down to four other people. Guess the others weren’t as dedicated as I thought. Getting up, I collect my stuff and head down to the teacher’s lounge.

Sliding the door open to the room, I’m met with the sight of total chaos swirling around. It's slightly disorienting, but I need to get this done. I stick out my hand and snag a student teacher I don’t recognize running past. He looks confused for a second, then seems to register that I’m a student.

“Can I help you?” He looks like the only things he wants are a gallon of coffee and for me to let go of his arm. Poor thing. I’m never becoming a teacher.

“Are we having any classes today?” I really want to go home and get the confrontation with my parents over with, and I’m pretty sure a paper half written by me nodding off and laying my head on the keys isn’t going to get me a good grade.

He looks at me for a second, then replies, “Well, you can choose to self-study here, but you don’t need to stay.”

“Thank you, good luck!” I release him back into the chaos, then start heading back home. Fingers crossed I won’t die an early death at the hands of my parents.