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She finds him sitting in his usual spot in the very back row of the classroom. Nose up in the air and exam held high, Mona says, “You see this? I know it must be an unusual sight for you, but this is the result of applying oneself and rigorous-“
“Oh, that?” He so rudely interrupts her. Mona glares. Scaramouche smiles, then holds up his own exam.
At the top, written in harsh red ink, is the same score - 100.
“Impossible!” Mona protests, hands curling into fists. Her poor paper is crumbled in the process.
He continues to smile, waving the offending paper in the air. “This is the result of doing jack shit to study for the exam, but being smart enough that it’s not needed anyway. A novel concept for you, I know.”