Today we took a test.

Not any test.

A Level A1 IQ Test.

Except… I wasn’t actually at that smartness level. It was just that they all thought I was.

To my left were three tall kids, each one fiddling nervously with their clothing hems. One was wearing glasses, and the other two looked like any other person you might have run into on the street during a Black Friday shopping spree.

To my right was a large radiator that smelled like burning wood and some dust when it was turned on—every 5 minutes and 35.2 seconds.

The whole room was a light beige color, and there was little noise other than the constant hum of my own eardrums. I never seemed to get rid of that, over the years.

A short, serious man stood up. “Attention, children.”

I paid close attention.

“You have been invited to come to the annual Boston Intelligence Quotient Test. It is a privilege and an honor, and it means you have a chance to exceed all limits of the history of these IQ tests. You will receive a computerized session that monitors your time taken and keep track of the number of questions correct and incorrect, taking in consideration the difficulty, time spent, and other things. You will wear a set of headphones that tells you when to begin, and other information you will need to know.”

I was beginning to feel a little nervous. I hadn’t really taken any IQ tests before, and besides, I mostly got B’s in school. I only tried this out because the teacher offered extra credit to anyone who scored above 115.

I looked near the ceiling, and there was a bunny-shaped, wiggling crack that spanned the size of about 3.6 meters. Ugh, I thought. Distractions.

“You may put on the headphones, and be sure that the moment your finger presses the Begin button, you will not be able to stop or pause your session until you have completed the entire section; five sections for the entire test to be complete. Each section will measure a different kind of intelligence.”

I reached up and grabbed the headphones, being careful not to tangle the cord or mess up the always-moving tile. I glanced down at the buttons going down my perfectly ironed plaid shirt, and noticed one crooked. I quickly straightened it.

Then, smoothing down my pants, I got to work.

The first question immediately stumped me. After going on for what seemed like a very long time, I finally found a possible correct answer. And I still wasn’t sure. Oh, well. I still had 149 more problems to go.

The questions were more like riddles, and more than a few required me to really stretch my mind. Time was ticking. I, on the other hand, was panicking. I had never done this before, and besides, I wasn’t even smart! Why did I even agree to do this… thoughts swirl my mind at the same time as I tried to push them away. Sweat began to form on my forehead. Things were not going smoothly, not at all. I had already used up 50 minutes, and I wasn’t even finished with the first section! Without any other choice, I rushed through the rest of the test without any further thought.

Before I knew it, it was the fifth and final section. I had rushed through most of the problems, not really reading them and answering carelessly. Who was I to blame? I was the person who wanted to do this. My parents only allowed me to.

This last section was about noticing details, short term memory, and visual and auditory processing--exactly what I'd been lowkey terrified of.

There was a complex picture of many things happening at once. A recording of people speaking, random noises, and quick flashes of pictures that I was supposed to keep track of. It was so confusing I didn’t even know when it stopped.

Then—beep! went my headphones and a big screen showed TEST COMPLETE. Phew. Now I could go home.

“I'm done,” I silently mouthed.

The man nodded and glanced over at the booths the other test-takers were sitting in. They had no idea I was done. Then he gave me an amused look, nodded slightly, and gave me the chipped card to go. Just a wee lil’ chipped card. I wiped the card off with my sleeve, gave him a grin, and set off.

As I ran across the busy streets, the questions buzzed in my mind. Had I gotten them wrong? Had I over-complicated things; been too careless; could I have tried harder? Too late, I muttered to myself, almost tripping over my own shoelaces. Too late.

***

“Mom!” I called into the kitchen, “I'm home!”

Instantly there was a reaction.

“Honey! How'd you do?”

“Well, they don't exactly tell us exactly how we scored the moment were done, you know--”

“Well, I'm proud of you. Just know that. There's snacks in the kitchen. Oh, I'm so proud of you!”

I forced a smile but felt a bit guilty in my heart. “Thanks, Mom.”

***

That was a few days ago.

It was about 8 on a Saturday morning when the device clipped on the front door gave a little bing! Mom jumped up from where she was sitting and gave me a wide smile. Then she rushed towards the door, opened it, and ran out.

I knew what was happening. The results from the IQ test had come back.

My foot tapped the ground nervously, impatiently. I didn’t know what I had got. I was a little nervous, but I couldn’t have done that bad, could I?

Before I could bombard myself with more of these thoughts, the door flew open.

“Hurry, honey. I haven’t opened them yet! Let’s do it together!” Mom said enthusiastically.

I grinned, tossed aside my spoon and took the envelope from her hands. I really, really, really hope I didn’t fail, if that’s even possible…

Soon the white paper with neatly printed letters was torn up, and with trembling hands I unfolded the paper.

I took a deep breath.

I heard Mom, next to me, gasp.

Yup. I knew it. 14 IQ, huh?

I opened my eyes to a slit, but the bold letters were in my sight:

Elizabeth 

231-64829402-566

Intelligence Quotient Exam

Elite

Score 284

I gasped, too.