"Holy crap, I am a genius!" Miles shouts, earning a stern glare from the Catholic teachers that hated any form of swearing, not matter how innocuous they seemed. "I got seven A*, three A, and a B in Religious Studies. Well, suck it, Mrs Newberry. That witch said I'd fail RE."

"Congrats," Will said to his best friend, patting Miles on the shoulder. Looking down at his results sheet, Will smiled. "I got eight A* and three A. What about you, Miss Practically Perfect in Every Way?"

I roll my eyes at Will's words, nudging his side with my hip. "I'm not perfect," I say, a warm blush heating my cheeks. "Anyway, I got ten A* and one A."

"I hate you," Miles said bitterly, walking away from our little group, leaving just Will and I.