The Exam

by Julia Murphy, Mount Stromlo High School

Usually, the forest is a calming place for me. The simple beauty of the light as it dapples through the canopy of leaves up above, the soft squishy feel of grass beneath my feet with every step I take; the sweet-smelling breeze in my face, tousling my shaggy hair. It’s my sanctuary, my favourite place in the whole world.

But today it fails to work its magic on me. In fact, the closer I get to the forest’s heart, the more my nervousness grows. My chest feels tight, every breath a small effort. My knuckles whiten around the straps of my backpack. Nervousness is natural, of course, for kids about to sit important exams, but it’s not exactly helpful. I know I should be fine, I’ve trained for this since I was a tiny kid, and I’m good at it. I know I’m good. Everyone does, probably including the Council. But it doesn’t matter if they already know I’m good. It all rides on today’s exam for whether I get my junior licence or not.

Of course, there’s always next year if I fail, but it would be truly humiliating if I don’t succeed today. I can already imagine Ruben’s smug face if he passed today and I didn’t. He considers us to be rivals. I don’t particularly want to be his rival, but I’d rather he didn’t have something to gloat over me. Ruben’s herb mixtures lack potency. I know I’m better than him if I can manage to curb my nervousness.

I can just make out the noises of bubbling cauldrons, clanging metal and the muttering of the Druid’s Council. Something smells like a slightly overcooked healing potion. I must be getting close to the forest’s heart, which is to serve as the examination ground. My heartbeat picks up. I curse it. I need to calm down.

As predicted, it’s not long before I reach the green, a sunny clearing where my fate will be decided. The Council sits behind a long bench of unsanded wood. It’s supposed to look authentic, like they made it just this morning from a fallen tree, but I know it was carefully crafted to have that certain vibe by some of the most skilled carpenters in the country. I know because my mother was one of them.

All twelve of the Council members look up at me from their chatter in almost perfect unison as I enter the clearing. It occurs to me that they must have to rehearse stuff like that. The mental image is amusing enough to relax me a little. It seems I’m just in time for the exam as the candidate in the centre begins to pack up her equipment. The Council has always been something of an intimidating presence for me, even as I grew to learn more of their lamer secrets. They hide the whole of their faces and bodies behind heavy green shrouds, which must be quite sweaty in the summer sun. Looking at them, it is impossible to tell one member from another. Their race, gender and age are completely concealed. They look like just a bunch of cloaks on a log. Unfortunately, the Druid’s Council has far more power over my life than an actual bunch of cloaks on a log.

One of the Council members speaks. I can’t tell which one. “You are Cassias Underwood?”

I fight to keep the slight tremor out of my voice as I respond. “I am.”

“Age?”

“Sixteen.”

“You’re young. Are you sure you’re capable of handling the responsibility of a Junior Druid’s licence?”

Are they trying to psych me out? Weird move. You’d think they want as many members as possible. I might be nervous but I refuse to be underestimated. The tremor seems to drop out of my voice as I respond, “I am. My father is Travis Underwood, Senior Druid. He has trained me well for this moment.”

Such formal speech isn’t really my thing but the Council tends to like it. I want to get this point across as best I can. I am not to be underestimated. I will make my father proud. My heartbeat remains fast, but the tension in my chest seems to dissipate as my nervousness gives way to determination.

The Council nods in unison, “When ready, you may begin your practical program.”

The girl before me scurries off and I swing my backpack off my shoulders and to the ground she vacated. I pull my equipment out of my bag and prepare to showcase the height of my hard work and talent. I imagine the proud, smiling faces of my parents. My mother can be gruff and she doesn’t really understand Druidry but I know she supports me unconditionally as I follow my father’s footsteps. My Dad, so gentle and caring as a father but so firm and efficient as a Druid and a teacher. He prepared me for this moment and the many more to follow.

I think of my friends. I don’t have a huge number of them, but the ones I do have were very vocal in their encouragement. I should have listened to them much earlier. Why was I nervous at all? Even Ruben believes in me. I might not like the guy much but I know he wouldn’t consider me his rival if he didn’t think I was capable.

I can do this. I know I can. They all believe in me, so I do too.