Alex was sitting to the right of me. Steve was across from me. Both of them were doing their practice exam papers, which strangely differed between maths, history and creative writing: a general knowledge of exam papers of sorts. General knowledge to schoolboys anyway.

Mr. Sheppard sat at the head of the rectangular table, with the class sat on the edges, working on their exam papers. For some reason, my exam hadn't been given to me, and for a while I thought I had died, until I started talking to Alex. Mr. Sheppard tolerated talking during this test for some reason, as the rest of the class were engaging in conversation freely, although not loudly. The room was small after all.

"Hey Alex, I haven't got my test." I stated, even though I doubted Alex could provide any useful tips on how to get my exam paper or how to tie a hangman's knot. I've told everyone a million times, it's eight times, not thirteen! If you want to be artistic with your suicide, paint yourself with a wide array of colours and walk into a tornado.

"Ask sir." Alex suggested.

"Which English Norman king was killed in the New Forest?" Steve asked from across the table.

"You may not talk about the questions!" snapped Mr. Sheppard.

"It's William the Second Steve." I said, to which Mr. Sheppard didn't respond, and I wasn't sure why.

"Do you like this yellow bow in my hair?" a girl further down the table asked her friend.

"-and then I threw the bastard threw a table." I overheard a gruff looking boy on the opposite side of the table tell his friend.

I was about to ask Mr. Sheppard for my exam, when I hurt my foot and decided it could wait. It was now I realized we weren't in a classroom, we were in a small train carriage.

"Hey Alex, where are we?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"About 30 miles east of the start of the Mid-Atlantic ridge." He answered, pointing to a computer generated map on the wall. It did indeed show the train moving through the Atlantic Ocean.

"Oh come on, you can't expect me to believe we are on a train through the Atlantic Ocean." And then I noticed the glass ceiling. All I could see was a turquoise jelly, continuously jiggling, allowing topaz rays of light to shine through at some parts.

"Have you got a calculator?" asked Alex.

"No." I answered, though minutes later I found one in my pocket, and gave it to Alex. "I can write funny things on it." I said proudly.

"No writing on the calculators!" roared Mr. Sheppard, though I still wrote AлDY 3 Y00 on the calculator, making Alex giggle.

After fifteen minutes, I still hadn't got my exam paper. The girls further down the table had put on gas masks, taken them off, then continue to work, with their panty hosed legs on the table. Mr. Sheppard didn't mind; he was probably doing some mental wanking. The gruff looking boy had cut his hair and had threatened his friend, as well as my friend Steve. Steve was still stuck on the history section of the paper, asking me the name of the first man in space (he thought it was Buzz Aldrin) and the effects of the American Civil War. Alex was happily working through the paper, though he was still borrowing my calculator. I was slightly worried, it was a nice calculator.

After another fifteen minutes, I found a Butterfinger underneath the table, somehow stuck there. I didn't like it, but then I remembered that's because I don't like peanut butter. How silly.

It was now I asked Mr. Sheppard for my exam paper.

"Sir, may I have my exam paper?"

"You don't have one." He said, stating the obvious.

"I know, that's why I'm asking you for one." I replied, trying to stay polite.

"You don't need one." He replied now.

I thought it was because I was smart.

"Why's that?" I asked, genuinely confused once again.

"…you don't go to this school anymore." he replied.

"Oh yeah!" I said loudly, and then I sat quietly while the others got on with their work.