I walk into the classroom to see a different teacher at the desk. Was Mr. Swaboda not here today? I look at the board to find that we have our state exams today. I had totally forgotten about them in the midst of celebrating my moms birthday over the weekend and finishing the piles of missing work I had. During testing the school required that a different teacher be in the classroom. I sit in my seat with the school-given calculators. “Celina, you’re not supposed to be sitting here.” I look back at Blake, the boy from my section (saxophones) in the school band.

Right. Mr. Swaboda had assigned our seats according to the first letter of our last names, aka our testing seats. Pilar, a girl I've known since elementary school, had originally sat in my place at the very front of the...