Note: I have unpublished the prologue. But if you read it before and were intrigued, I have published a prequel (titled Flawed) with that girl from the prologue as the main character.

Every morning, I like to make a wish on the rising sun.

I know, wishes are supposed to be made on shooting stars. But what's the point of that? They're fleeting, only gigantic hunks of rock burning up while entering the atmosphere. The sun, on the other hand, is eternal. It'll rise above the horizon every day for the rest of my life and will continue to do so even after I'm gone. To me, the rising sun signifies new beginnings. It tells me that even during dark times, the light will come again.

On the day of the Examination, I wake up just before dawn, like I usually do. And, like every day, I sit in front of my window for a few minutes to watch the sunrise. As the sun peeks over the horizon, its warm, golden glow spreads across its surroundings, eventually permeating my room and bathing me in light.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Today, as I have for the past several weeks, I wish to do well on the Examination. My test results will determine my whole future, setting me on a career path that I will have to follow for the rest of my life. It's seemed like a distant event for so long, something I didn't need to worry about until later, when I'm older, even though my teachers started prepping us for it at the beginning of this year. It feels like barely any time has passed since then, but the school year is now drawing to a close, bringing the Examination with it. I'm not ready for this. I've been preparing for months and months, yet I don't feel prepared.

My eyes flicker open, focusing on the sun as it slowly climbs up the sky. It all comes down to today. It doesn't matter that I'm not prepared. I have to do well on this test, or I literally won't have a future other than unemployment and depending on my parents until they die. This might very well be the most stressful moment of my life.

Stressed is the perfect word to describe me this morning as I get ready for the day. I have never felt this way before, clammy palms and constricted breaths and a sensation of dizziness, as if the world is spiraling into insanity. The only thing occupying my mind is the Examination, my thoughts a constant loop of what if this and what if that. This must be why some people have lobbied for the discontinuation of these tests in the past. It's too much pressure put on fifteen-year-olds, with much too high stakes.

I try to take deep, calming breaths as I go through my daily morning routine. I can't focus on anything--brushing my teeth with the back of the brush for a solid minute before it clicks that I'm holding it upside down, washing my face and then trying to dry it with toilet paper instead of a towel, completely undressing myself in the bathroom before I realize that I showered last night, putting on my shirt inside out and backwards--it's a miracle that I don't try to pull my leggings on over my head. Thank god I had the forethought to pick out my clothes the night before, or I might have turned up at the test in my pajamas.

Our school teachers have spent hours over the past few months teaching us techniques to relieve stress, but it's all flying out of my head. Maybe that's a sign that I'm going to fail, I think, suddenly panicking. All that information I've been studying will just fly out of my brain when I'm actually taking it.

Then I shake my head, gritting my teeth in frustration. Shut up and get it together, I order myself. Focus. As if to punctuate the emphatic thought, I yank my hairbrush extra hard through my long, dirty blonde locks, yelping when it catches in a particularly tangled knot.

I still feel like my brain is warring with itself when I head down for breakfast. My stomach has started to ache, like I'm going to throw up. That's just another side effect of stress, I know, but it's still difficult to force a piece of toast down my throat.

Unable to stomach any more than that, I start to pace around the kitchen, circling the dining table over and over again until I'm not sure if the dizzy feeling I have is because of my nervousness or my walking. I'm still pacing when Dad enters the room, stifling a yawn. He lets out a small groan when he sees me.

"Ellie, one day, I swear you're going to wear that tile down so much, you won't be walking on the floor, you'll be walking on grass."

"I don't know, from the looks of it, she'd probably have died of stress by the time she can do that," Mom comments, walking in behind him, rubbing at her eyes sleepily. "God, I'm so tired. I need a coffee."

I let out a nervous laugh. "How did you even manage to get through your Examination? I'm so worried!"

"Coffee," Mom says bluntly. "Loads of it. I wasn't even nervous, I was just really sleepy. My main concern was that I was going to fall asleep in the middle of the test."

"I don't believe that for a second," Dad replies, grinning. "I remember seeing you that day. You looked like you were going to wet your pants."

"Did not!" Mom protests, smacking his arm.

"Did too!"

Mom crosses her arms. "Well, how about we talk about how you looked?"

"Me?" Dad turns to look at me. "Oh, Ellie, you should have seen me. I was the very embodiment of confidence. I walked in there just knowing I was going to own the place, with my head held high--"

"Excuse me?" Mom demands, trying to contain her laughter. "You looked like you were going to cry! I'm fairly certain you actually did cry, as a matter of fact."

Dad mock glares at her. "Angela. I thought we agreed that stays between us!"

"Not to mention how you almost threw up in the middle of the--"

"ANGELA!"

A little laugh escapes my lips as I watch Dad dive to cover Mom's mouth and she tries to squirm away from him. I love my parents because they act like kids so much of the time. It's like they're my friends, people my age.

"Elayne," Mom says, finally managing to push Dad off of her, "A word of actual advice. Just focus on what you're doing, okay? Don't think about how this test will affect your future. That will just wreck your concentration. Really, as long as you don't stress, you'll be fine. And remember that you don't have to ace the test, you just have to excel in a particular section. As soon as your time starts, skip straight to art. You know that's where you want to do well."

I take a deep breath. "Okay. Okay, I'll try to remember that."

"Also, if you get frustrated, don't let it build up inside of you. It will mess you up," Dad adds. "What I liked to do was just look at the question that was making me mad and imagine it going up in flames. Just, stare at it really hard and picture this huge fire right there on the paper, reducing that thing to ashes. It sounds stupid, but it actually makes you feel better."

I frown dubiously. When my dad says things like that, I never know if he's being serious. But I guess it wouldn't hurt to try it if the need arises.

Mom claps her hands together. "So, you ready?"

I snort. "No."

"Oh, no. I can't have my daughter going in there without being ready, or at least feeling ready," Dad says loudly. "Okay, I have an idea. Put your hand on your heart and repeat after me. I, Elayne Woodson."

"Dad. Not this again."

"Do it! Say, I, Elayne Woodson, am ready for this test."

Rolling my eyes, I repeat the words. "I, Elayne Woodson, am ready for this test?"

"With conviction, Elayne! Hand on your heart! Okay, keep repeating after me. I will do my absolute best," Dad continues.

"I will do my absolute best." I feel a little more comfortable saying that, since I know I'll try my best. My only worry is that my best isn't good enough.

"Good. Now say, I will kick this test's ass."

"Dad!"

Mom laughs. "Ellie, trust me, you'll be fine. Just go in there and do your thing. We're not going to think any less of you if you don't do well. As long as you've put in all the effort you could, that's all that matters."

"Unless you fail," Dad interjects. "Then we'll disown you."

"We will not disown you." Mom rolls her eyes. "I'm serious, Elayne. Just do the most you are capable of and everything else will fall into place."

I take a deep breath. "Okay. Okay, I think I'm feeling a little better now. A little less like I want to puke."

Dad smiles, ruffling my hair. "Put a smile on that face of yours. If you don't feel confident, at least try to look like you are. Trust me, it works wonders."

"You know what else works wonders?" Mom asks, placing her hands on her hips. "Actually brushing your hair."

I groan. "Mom. This is a test, not a fashion show. And, for the record, it is brushed."

She attacks my hair with her comb anyway. I think about complaining, then thank my lucky stars that she didn't try to get me to put on mascara or something, because I hate makeup.

When she's finally done, she steps back and smiles proudly. "There. Now, you look gorgeous."

"Back straight, Ellie. Chin up. Smile." Dad adjusts my posture, then playfully tugs the corners of my lips upward. "Seriously. It wouldn't kill you to smile, okay?"

"Do you feel ready now?" Mom asks me. "Because you certainly look ready to me."

I breath in deeply. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I am." As ready as I will ever be, at least.

Both of my parents follow me to the front door, where I slip on my favorite sneakers and grab the pencil case I left there last night. "Do you want us to walk you there?" Dad asks.

I shake my head, sighing. "I'm fifteen, Dad. I'm not a little girl who needs someone to hold her hand while she crosses the street anymore. There'll be hundreds of kids walking in the same direction as me, heading to the same place. Not to mention the police officers who will be directing traffic. And, the Examination Hall is easily within walking distance. I'll be fine."

"Well, then, good luck," Mom says, beaming.

"You'll do great, honey. I believe in you," Dad adds.

I open the front door and start to walk outside, but I hesitate on the threshold, looking back to face my parents. They both give me encouraging smiles. I look back outside, where I can already see a couple kids from my neighborhood on their way to the Examination Hall. I breath in deeply. Then exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

"I'm ready," I whisper to myself. And then I step over the threshold.