Full Marks - Part 1

A university student takes her Women’s Studies exam, but the questions aren’t at all what she’s prepared for.

***

“And begin!” the invigilator called. There was a rustling all around the hall as the students opened their papers.

Violet opened her own paper calmly, read the first question through, and began to write – a brief summary of Engel’s views on strategies for women’s liberation. She smiled to herself. This exam wouldn’t be a problem. She was at the top of her class, after all. There were about thirty of them in total, all girls. Not that she’d expected otherwise. Violet sneered contemptuously. Men didn’t tend to be interested in modules like Contemporary Women’s Voices, The Female Body in Fiction, or Early Feminist Theory.

Violet made short work of the first question and moved on to the second. That was when she noticed the soft, tinkling music. It was very faint, and sounded as though it was coming from somewhere outside the exam hall. She scowled. She couldn’t hear the words, but it sounded like a nursery rhyme or something stupid like that. Who was playing music now, so close to the hall? Didn’t they realise there was an exam going on? Violet looked up to see if any of the invigilators were doing anything about it, but there were just walking around slowly between the desks. They were all male, she noticed. Rolling her eyes, she turned her attention back to her paper, trying to ignore the tune.

Give an account of eco-feminism. Violet smiled. Another easy question. She’d prepared for this. But when she put her pen to the paper, she realised she had no idea what to write. She sat motionless for a few moments, gazing blankly at the page. What was the matter with her? She’d revised this just last night! She shook her head, trying to steady herself. She’d just had one of those moments, that was all. It would come to her. Any second.

But her mind felt totally blank. There was nothing but the sweet, tinkling music. Violet looked up again angrily. It was so annoying! Surely she could get compensation or something for this! What if it affected her grade? Then she caught sight of the clock and felt her stomach drop. She had to stay focused. She didn’t have time to get distracted like this. She’d just have to skip question two and come back to it later.

Violet looked down at the next question. Briefly compare socialist feminism with Marxist feminism. She stared at the paper with her mouth hanging open. Weren’t those the same thing? The memory of a piece of revision with two columns, one labelled socialist feminism and the other labelled Marxist feminism, drifted across her mind, but it was too blurry to make out. The music tinkled softly inside her head.

Violet pouted at her paper. Why did she feel like such a dumb-dumb all of a sudden? She glanced surreptitiously around the room to see if anyone else was finding the paper as hard as she was. Sure enough, every girl in the hall was showing signs of difficulty. Some were clutching at their hair and shaking their heads, others bouncing up and down a little in their seats out of frustration. There was a girl some distance away who looked to be in tears. With a start, Violet recognised her. It was Rebecca! She was the treasurer for the university’s Feminist Society. She always came across so calm and put-together, so it was a shock to see her gone to pieces like this, sniffling quietly and rubbing her eyes with her fists. One of the invigilators was leaning over by her desk, trying to soothe her. In fact, all the invigilators looked similarly busy.

Violet felt herself turning red. The idea that all the girls were needing to be comforted by a bunch of male invigilators was so embarrassing. They were all on the Women’s Studies course, for goodness sake! She shook her head violently, trying to clear it, and looked down at her paper again, desperate to figure something out. Then the answer hit her. How had she not realised it before?! It was probably a trick question! Smiling, she put her pen to the paper and wrote, They are the same.

But then she pouted again. There was still a lot of space in the answer box. Was it really a trick question? It was eight marks, and she hadn’t written very much. Her answer to the first question was a lot longer. In fact, now that she looked back at it, what she’d written for question one looked really, really long and complicated. Something about an intersection between environmental and feminist activism? Violet scrunched up her face, trying to think, but she couldn’t understand it at all. The silly tune continued to play softly in the background. Her head felt very funny. Like it was full of light.

Violet’s thumb drifted up to her lips and she bit her nail distractedly. Then her thumb slipped between her full lips and she began to suck gently.

She turned the page in her exam with her left hand and looked at the next question. A wave of relief rushed over her. She knew this one! In what ways are men and women’s bodies different? She let out a little giggle. That was easy ‘cause she had a woman’s body! She looked down at herself, thinking. Then she pulled her thumb out of her mouth with a wet pop and started to write. Women have boobies. Some are big and some are small but men do not have any. She paused for a moment, then she wrote, Mine are big and bouncy. Violet wondered if that might be too much information, but she was pretty sure her teachers always said it was good to give a personal opinion in her essays. Women have pussies, she continued. Men have cocks. I’ve sucked cocks before and men have put them in my pussy. I put one between my big boobies once. Men are also really strong and women are not. Violet shoved her thumb back in her mouth happily. There! That answer was much longer than her last one.

She looked at the next question and frowned. Name three ways women are like little girls. Her thumb bobbed rhythmically between her lips. Was that question okay? Violet had the sudden feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Were women like little girls? The question seemed to think they were. But that seemed… wrong. The music tinkled quietly. Violet’s head felt soft and fluffy. Fluffy like a bunny. She giggled and bounced a little in her chair. Hop! Hop! Hop! Then she blushed brightly and shook her head, sending her hair flapping about her face. What was the matter with her?! She was in an exam!

Violet focused back on the question, and an idea struck her. She tugged her thumb out of her mouth again and wrote we do silly things in the answer space. She certainly did. She could be such a silly girl. Such a silly woman.

She stuck out her bottom lip and tried to think of something else to write, but she was distracted when the girl at the table in front of her suddenly burst into tears. Immediately, one of the invigilators rushed over and started talking to her softly. “There, there, baby,” he said. “It’s okay if it’s too hard. I’m sure you tried your best.” He wiped away her tears with his thumb and stroked her hair to settle her down. “That’s a good girl. A pretty princess like you doesn’t need to worry about nasty exams. You just focus on being cute, okay?”

Violet screwed up her face, thinking hard. She thought about the silly girl in front of her, and she thought about Rebecca, grown women who cried in exams and needed men to come and coo at them to make them feel better. She picked up her pen and wrote we cry a lot. Two out of three! She was almost done with the question!

Violet grinned, not even noticing how the faint, sweet music was getting louder and louder. And then, quite suddenly, she let out a gasp and pressed a hand to her crotch. Her bladder was aching. She needed the toilet now! Her other hand shot into the air, and another invigilator hurried over to her desk.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” he asked.

“I gotta go pee-pee!” Violet blurted. She felt herself blushing again. That wasn’t what she’d meant to say! But her head felt so strange and fuzzy. It was as if the words had spilled out of her mouth without her permission.

“Do you think you can hold on ‘till the end of the exam, sweetie?” the man asked gently. “You’re not supposed to leave the hall I’m afraid.”

“Pweeeease….” Violet moaned, bouncing in her hair and clutching between her legs.

“If you’re really desperate, I can bring you a potty chair,” the invigilator offered kindly. “Like toddlers use. Would you like that, honey? Would you like me to bring a little potty chair over here for you to tinkle in?”

No!” Violet squealed, her eyes wide in shock. Something was definitely wrong here! This wasn’t right at all!

But before she could say another word, her bladder gave in. With a look of horror on her face, Violet stared down at the crotch of her jeans as a dark wet patch began to blossom.

“Uh-oh…” the invigilator chuckled, as rivers of pee ran down Violet’s legs and puddled beneath her chair. “I think someone’s having a little accident.”

Violet started to cry, even more loudly and pathetically than the girl at the table in front of her. She’d done a wee-wee in her pants!

“It’s okay, little girl,” the man said reassuringly. “We’re just about done here anyway, and we’ll get you cleaned up right away. We’re going to take you all to the practical exam next. No need to worry about icky exam papers.” Violet continued to sob. “And as for you little pee-pee problem, don’t you worry your pretty head about it.”

Violet heard a rustling noise, and she looked up through her tears to see the invigilator holding something in his hand. Something puffy and white and crinkly.

“We’ve got just the thing for a woman to wear.”