Trust the Test


Allison Jenks '25, Writer

Every child hopes to pass The Test, as great riches are promised to those who do—but no one has. Every single 11-year-old sent into The Auditorium has failed in some way or another.

After the Test, I lined up with my friends on either side of me, Josh and Carla at my shoulders. The Moderator walked down the line, calling names and assigning scores. 

“8. You failed,” The moderator said to my best friend. Josh’s face was stricken with shock and fear. 

I’ve heard rumors around the school that Failures are taken to The Farm. Josh couldn’t be my best friend anymore. Trust the Test, Trust the Test, Trust the Test; that is what they always told us. It is written on the walls of all of the classrooms. We say it every day whenever we fear for our future. Our parents are quick to say it when we express that concern. But what if the Test means that everyone I love is taken from me?

I am pulled out of my thoughts when the Moderator approaches me. My eyes are torn away from Josh when the masked man flips the page and says my name.

Although I cannot see his features, the tone of his voice seems happy. I must have passed!

“You passed, congratulations,” his hand drifted away from the paper in his palm and reached for something in his pocket.

“Is that my certificate?” I asked.

“Something like that,” he mumbled, pulling out the concealed object. 

I hear a bang! and suddenly the world goes dark.