“I can’t say this enough: do not open your test booklets when I hand them out!”

Eve wrapped up her apple core in a napkin and rapped her pencil on the table sharply, bringing her brain to attention, a mental call-to-order. 

“I will now hand out test booklets for the AMC 10—please raise your hands if you are taking the AMC 10 test. And once again, what are you not going to do with your test booklets?”

“Don’t open them!” —the chorused response.

Eve didn’t raise her hand, because she was a senior, and that meant, unfortunately, that she had to take the far-more-difficult (but still easy for her) AMC 12. She watched the small freshmen across the gulf of the long, wooden, plane as small, dove-like booklets glided onto tables. 

“Now raise your hand for the AMC 12!” Eve raised her hand, and received in exchange the gift of a booklet, which slid easily to her on the slick wood, making the faintest hiss in its passing. She rubbed her eyes, and the thing blurred in and out of focus like a picture in a refocusing camera lens: fuzzy black letters on white frame alternated with small print in between the lines. 

“I will now pass out the answer documents for the AMC 10. Once again, do not open your test booklets!” 

Her heart skipped a beat. This time, Eve had a booklet. This time, Eve wanted to open it, just a bit. And she could tell that the guy nearest her was eyeing his booklet as well. 

“If you do open your text booklet, you will be disqualified from the competition!” 

Test booklet, test booklet…they were all eyeing their test booklets now. Was there, or was there no voice saying “open your test booklet…just a little”?

Eve snapped back to attention as an AMC 10 answer document landed in front of her; she handed the sheet back to Mr. Michael, explaining that she was taking the AMC 12. But as she was doing so, her hand flew over the flypaper of the test booklet and stuck. As she glanced at it, the ink winked at her, and her cheeks bloomed, flustered. It was just a test booklet. She lovingly traced the lettering, as if in a trance, while her breath came shorter all the while. Was the lettering different on the inside? Her fingers caressed the edge. Her ears felt hot. 

Saved by an answer document that fluttered onto the table, she began bubbling in residential information with a vengeance, shunting the strangely seductive test booklet to one side. 

“I will now read the instructions for the AMC 10 and the AMC 12 as required by the American Mathematics Association…you guys can follow along on your test booklets if you want…”

That was a mistake. A dull roar in her ears washed over the voice as the lure of the test booklet enchanted her once again, the fingered edge pleading alluringly with her, a corner peeking up where her fingers had touched it. The hinge staples were somewhat loose to her machinations; two of them curved at the left corner like fangs.

“Number seven, all questions left unanswered will result in a gain of 1.5 points…”

Seven—was that the number they were on? She refocused her attention on the bottom. There were ten rules. Three more to go until she could rip open the stupid test booklet. 

“Derek, I see your fingers on the test booklet over there—make sure not to open it!”

There was a flurry of fidgeting as brains cut the strings to fingers that had jumped at “open”.

Eve gasped as she hurriedly drew her finger away from the hinge, a two-holed puncture opening on her finger where she’d accidentally rammed it into the staples. As she paused to inspect the wound, she could hear Derek’s loud, short, breaths as he held up his hands to show his innocence. She wiped away the pinpricks of blood on her apple-stained napkin and tried to listen toMr. Michael’s megaphone:

“Number eight, incorrect answers will earn zero points…number nine…alright guys, I really need to go to the bathroom, so just hang tight…it’ll just be a moment” and with that, Mr. Michael dashed out of the cafeteria. There were, of course, no other adults around, save a grizzled janitor quietly humming in tune with his keys.

Eve could have sworn that Mr. Michael did it on purpose. Her love affair with her test booklet was temporarily forgotten in favor of anger at Mr. Michael. Did he want somebody to get disqualified? Couldn’t he see that they were all struggling with their far-too-potent test booklets?

The part of Eve that was still self-aware was glad that everyone was looking at the door that the teacher had disappeared out of, instead of down at their test booklets. That part of Eve also knew that as soon as one person looked, there was no hope for the assembled students. 

Eve took out her phone, the king of distractions

But the phone was a holding measure. The cover page of the test booklet beckoned, its leading edge bent and snaky from her sweaty fingers. Barely aware of the deafening chatter of her logical side, Eve reached out. A drop of sweat, innocuous, beaded on her forehead. She could feel her thighs straining a little as she rose a little bit in her chair to the occasion.

She bit her lip. The test booklet begged. She felt it watching her. The others were watching her. Hot, flush, flustered, do, do not, pain, pleasure and in a flash she had done it. A flick of the fingers, slightly sticky in two pinpoints where her staple-wounds were; there was a sinking of the soul into delicious relaxation, like the first, crisp bite into an apple on a hot summer day. The test booklet’s cover page lay hugging the table, its first and second pages revealed to her in naked glory.

She scarcely had time to take in anything with her heightened senses before Mr. Michael walked back into the room. She frantically closed her test booklet. Did he notice?

“Number ten, this one is made up…have fun guys! Open up those test booklets and begin!” 

A rustling of doves. As Eve began work on the test she noticed that for some reason, the test booklet was no longer sinuous and seductive. It was paper, stapled together. She chuckled slightly and plunged into her work.