The morning sun over Sweden was cruelly bright, spilling across Goldridge Academy's campus like a spotlight. For once, there was no sound of basketballs on the courts, no murmurs of flirting in the garden, no laughter from dorm balconies. Only silence—and the steady shuffle of footsteps as students filed toward the massive exam hall.
The SATs had arrived.
The Atmosphere
The room itself felt more like an arena than a classroom. Long rows of desks, sharp pencils lined with military precision, proctors watching like hawks from every corner. Every cough, every whispered shuffle of paper echoed louder than it should have.
Students fidgeted nervously. Some bounced their knees under the table. Others whispered prayers under their breath. The intimacy and gossip of the night before seemed laughably far away now.
And yet, Zion sat still. His posture calm, his gaze steady. Even with the weight of the test pressing down, his presence radiated composure.
Mabelle, seated two rows over, caught his eye for the briefest moment. That was all she needed to steady her own heartbeat.
The First Section – Math
The first hour began with math. Zion read through the problems, his pen tapping against the paper. For the first time in years, he felt a flicker of challenge. Some questions weren't straightforward—they twisted, demanding not just memory but adaptability.
He smirked slightly. Finally, something that's trying to keep up with me.
Around him, however, chaos brewed. A Swedish boy swore under his breath after realizing he'd miscalculated an entire problem set. A US girl raised her hand, panicked that she'd bubbled answers on the wrong line. A boy from the UK branch actually put his head down on the desk, muttering that he couldn't do it.
Zion ignored them all. His focus sharpened with every stroke of his pencil, though he silently admitted to himself: This isn't easy. But it's mine to conquer.
The Second Section – Reading & Writing
By the second section, fatigue began to settle in. Passages stretched endlessly, words blurring together. Zion flexed his hand, rolling his shoulders. Even he had to admit—the test was designed to grind you down.
But for every moment of difficulty, he found a rhythm. He underlined key points, dissected arguments, and when he came across a particularly tricky comprehension passage, he let out a low chuckle. So this is what they think can trip me?
Across the aisle, Mikey looked pale, his hair disheveled as he scribbled desperately. Celeste, calm as ever, sat beside him, her focus unbroken. Zion respected her composure; she was one of the few who seemed unshaken.
The Cracks Appear
It didn't take long for whispers to spread—someone had been caught cheating. A boy from the US branch had a folded note under his sleeve, and when the proctor pulled him out, the silence that followed was suffocating.
Others cracked in different ways. One girl burst into tears, her sobs echoing until she was escorted out. A boy clenched his fists so hard he snapped his pencil in half. The pressure wasn't just academic—it was emotional warfare.
And Zion, watching it unfold, knew he was witnessing the difference between the weak and the strong.
Zion's Reflection
By the final essay, Zion's hand ached. His eyes burned from scanning lines of text. He wasn't invincible—he knew that now. Even for him, this test demanded effort, demanded focus, demanded endurance.
But as he wrote his conclusion, the words flowing with precision and confidence, he leaned back slightly. He wasn't just surviving—he was thriving.
Yes, it was tough. But toughness is where I live.
When the proctor finally called time, Zion placed his pen down gently, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. He wasn't flawless, not this time—but he knew deep in his bones he had done more than enough.
Aftermath
As students spilled out of the hall, the air was thick with exhaustion. Some groaned, others laughed nervously, and many simply collapsed on the grass outside.
Mabelle found her way to Zion almost immediately, brushing her hair from her face. "So?" she asked breathlessly.
Zion gave her a half-smile. "Harder than I thought."
Her eyes widened—Zion admitting difficulty was rare.
"But," he continued, voice steady, "I did well. Very well."
Mabelle exhaled, relief flooding her features. Around them, other students still buzzed with nerves and regret, but Zion and Mabelle walked together in silence, their calm a world apart from the chaos.
And though Zion didn't say it aloud, one truth played in his mind:
The SATs tested me. And I won.