For one brief moment I was top of the heap, king of the hill when Mr. Mabee posted his copy of the second-term honour roll, and I discovered that, through some mathematical fluke, I’d managed to beat out all the usual suspects. Except it felt better than that, more like an achievement than a prize, a measurement unsullied by the harshness of competition . . . until the kid I’d beaten to first took me aside to remind me our final mark would be an average of all three terms, and I should expect him to soon put me back in my place.
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