"4/1, settle down. I have the results here."

Mr Ng's voice was elucidate amidst the nervous chatter among the students as the voices died down to an uneasy silence.
This Chinese HOD was our professor, our mentor. The same man who joked and laughed with us through lessons; this amazing teacher who both encouraged and lectured us, stood before us with an expression easily identified as discontentment, if not disappointment.

"The lowest grade for 4/1 is a B4."

Kao! Heng la! Pass already what...

"I'll now call out the names," Mr Ng continued. "Those called, please come forward, get your paper, and sign here."

Angel and Yixin approached the teacher as more nervous chatter started up. They asked to have their papers first, since they were going for their table-tennis competition.
A gasp. A scream. Curious classmates looked on. Were they gasping in surpise or dismay?

"A1! I got A1!" Both chortled in unison. The class was clapping loudly as they both signed to acknowledge their results, following with a high-five and a hug.

Somehow, Don caught the look on both Angel's and Yixin's eyes. Both of them were looking into each other for that split second as they performed the high-five. One could clearly see the strong bond of their friendship as they both smiled (although they were obviously grinning madly at that point of time) at each other. Well, at least Don could.

Maybe that's what people meant when they said that secondary school would be the best time of our lives.

It's the friendships built during that time, and finally that slight spark you feel within you as you give your friends a pat, or rather a large whack, on the back. That spark that brings forth the nostalgia in you as your memories unfold to unveal your subconcious memories.

"WeiWen."

"WeiWen."

"Psst, WeiWen! The teacher's calling you!"

Oh, thought Don. The moment of truth came as Don walked slowly to Mr Ng. Tension brimming as Don looked at his paper and saw a...

(What do you think chinese-illiterate Don will get for not studying?)

B4. (Duh!)

Don stared at it in disbelief for a moment, then remembered what Mr Ng had said. Everyone passed. He could still follow up with Higher Chinese. Woop-tee-doo!

* * * * *

Tears were aflow as Don tried to comfort some, their eyes askew with liquified sadness. Drop by drop, their tears of regret ran down their cheeks and onto the paper. The paper that held a...

... grade of A2.

Uhh, so they have high expectations. Alright.

Don peered outside the class as he saw friends fooling around in sheer happiness, after which he turned around and saw a few crying by the corner.

Which position would I be in next year?

Only time will tell.