Work Text:
Shit.
Ruffnut stared at the red ink scribbled in Mr. Belch’s untidy teacher scrawl and chewed on her bottom lip. The rest of the class chattered around her, comparing marks and answers and such. Usually, Ruffnut liked the noise, but today it just made her ears ring. She stared at her page a second longer before turning it over so she didn’t have to see it. It still floated in her mind, though.
11/45.
Shit.
Ruffnut wasn’t a genius by any standards. She knew that. She was comfortable about being on the dumb side of things. But she was 45% to 55% dumb, and maybe a 60% if she was lucky. Not eleven out of fucking forty. Not even Tuffnut was that dumb! She could catch a glimpse of his mark (he was out of his seat, arm wrestling Snotlout) and it was a 20. Goddammit. If his was higher, that meant hers was the lowest out of the gang. Hiccup and Fishlegs were uber-nerds, so they were definitely high above the red line. Astrid was usually hot on their heels with high seventies, and she usually bullied the teachers to boost her up into the low 80s. Snotlout was a numbskull, but he had enough discipline to scrape a 65. It was just her and Tuffnut that skated low, but it didn’t matter. Well, it did now. She didn’t even bother putting it into the calculator to get the percentage; she didn’t want to see it. God, what would it even be? A 30%? 20? Lower? God, if only she could do the maths in her head. If only she was smart enough. If only she was smart.
She groaned and slid her test into her battered, green portfolio. Not today, she decided. Not today. It’s maths, anyway. Who cares? Someone definitely did worse than me. Totally. She could see Mr. Belch give her that concerned, teacherly glance. She slumped in her chair. Hiccup, bless his scrawny little soul, noticed she wasn’t gathering in the mark-comparing conversation and moved over.
“Hey, Ruff,” he said, smiling crookedly. He leant his crutch against her desk. He didn’t really need the thing anymore, but he kept it around anyways. Ruffnut figured it acted as a kind of comfort blanket or something. If anyone needed one of those, it was that guy.
She didn’t say anything back, and just grunted. Hiccup frowned a little.
“That bad, huh? Oh, well.” He shrugged and awkwardly patted her shoulder. “It’s not the end of the world.”
Ruffnut glared up at him. She knew he meant well, but come on. He got his mark of 98% announced to the class and here he is, talking about the end of the world.
Hiccup cocked his head, moving between confusion and concern. “What did you get?” He asked quietly, half whispering. Ruffnut looked around before cupping a hand over her mouth and mouthing the answer as exaggerated as she could so she didn’t have to repeat it.
e-le-ven.
Hiccup's eyes widened in horror. Percent?! He mouthed back. Ruffnut shook her head vigorously. No, out of! She replied.
Hiccup nodded, somewhat relieved. He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. His green eyes perused the room, looking for something to say. He sighed again.
“That sucks,” he said lamely. He was doing calculations in his mind and it didn’t look good. Ruffnut nodded miserably.
“I know,” she groaned. “What am I gonna do?”
Hiccup rubbed his neck again. “I mean, it’s just one test. And this one only counts like, 25% of your marks!”
It was nerd comfort, but appreciated nonetheless. Portfolios were to be handed in and Hiccup took hers for her. He put his over hers when he put it in the box.
Thankfully, the bell rang and the class was released to break. Ruffnut was reunited with her brother, who tackled her in a spindly hug.
“Hey-o, Sister Nut. That test was so shit! I got 44%.” He crowed, his voice loud and unashamed.
Ruffnut mimicked her brother's smile. “Same.”