The Cursed Valedictorian

“Just write whatever you want on today’s SATs. The more mistakes you make, the better. Remember, don’t try to score high.”

At the entrance to the exam hall, our homeroom teacher gave us our admission cards while offering this advice.

There were over a thousand candidates there. All of them hoped to get into their dream universities and change the course of their lives. However, not a single one of them objected to what the teacher said.

The teacher handed me my admission ticket and repeated her advice.

I took the admission ticket and assured her, “Don’t worry, Ms. Spector. My grades are so bad that no matter what happens, I’ll never be the valedictorian.”

Ever since the first valedictorian committed suicide ten years ago, every single valedictorian in every subsequent class had taken their own lives on the day the exam results were released.

The title of “valedictorian” has gone from being everyone’s goal to something people avoided like the plague.

Every year, SATs candidates went to great lengths to avoid becoming the valedictorian.

Some transferred schools. Others dropped out. Those with no other options deliberately underperformed on the exam.

Everyone said the valedictorian was cursed.

The valedictorians were destined for death.

My grades were always excellent. I ranked first from elementary school through junior high, and on the high school entrance exam, I even scored the highest in the entire city to gain admission to a top-tier high school.

But after the suicides of past valedictorians, my parents would not allow me to come in first under any circumstances. They feared that I would fall victim to the curse.

Just as my parents hoped, I consistently scored near the bottom even when I knew all the answers.

Half a year ago, my dad donated a building to Zarvard in my name. I had already received my acceptance letter and was just waiting to enroll in two months.

The SATs was just a formality for me. I had long since decided to leave my test blank.

After receiving the exam paper, I wrote my name on it and attached the barcode. Out of boredom, I then lay my head on the desk and fell asleep.

Many students did the same, but the proctors did not seem to care at all.

A few students who had written one too many answers were even hinted by the proctors to erase some of them.

After the three-day exam was over, my parents, feeling sorry for me, took me on a special trip to Saufait Isle, returning only on the day the exam results were released.

Early in the morning, my mom impatiently urged me to check my score.

“Mom, don’t worry. I turned in a blank test, so I’m definitely going to get a zero on this exam.”

I had said that out loud, but my hands were diligently keying in my login credentials.

The results page popped up.

The moment I saw the score; I froze in shock.

It was not zero. It was…

1,550 points!