Once the initial panic has passed, I walk back to the great hall.

Everything is as I’d left it. The man is still holding the duster in his hand, waiting to scrub the board of yesterday’s notes. I don’t know how much time has passed. All the clocks have stopped.

As I take my seat, I wonder if my mother and brother are also stuck. What if the whole world has frozen and I’m the only one still moving? I’ve never experienced stillness like this; I swear I can hear my own heart racing.

I pick up the golden pen on my desk, start making a list of things I’ll need to do if the world never unfreezes. I won’t be able to work at the doughnut shop to earn money after school anymore. If the cars are frozen, the trains and taxis would be, as well. I’d need to walk home and that could take hours.

Will the sun ever set if it’s stuck in the sky?

I put the pen down and look at the long list of problems I’ve identified.

As I’m staring at the list, my eye falls on a small sentence in the lower margin of my answer booklet.

I wish I had more time.

I remember writing it in a panic during the exam, before everything froze. I pick up the pen again, really examine it now. When it catches the light, there’s a strange luminescence to it, as if glittering crystals are embedded in the metal. As I run my finger along the casing, I feel a weird vibration from within. I make a fist around the pen, and it begins thrumming, pulsing in my palm as if it has a heartbeat of its own.

I almost throw it down but then decide not to. I know instinctively how valuable this pen must be — for after I scribbled the words, I wish I had more time, the whole world froze and I was granted it.

But what do I do with the extra time I’ve been given? And once I’ve done it, how do I unfreeze time again? What words do I write to restart the clocks?

***

I asked for more time to finish my exam but after struggling for what feels like two hours — I can’t track time anymore because it’s no longer moving — I give up. All the time in the world won’t change the fact that I still don’t understand inverse functions or how to solve for them.

My leg starts shaking and I tap the pen on my answer booklet in a restless rhythm. As I look around, literally searching for answers, my eyes fix on Luke. He’s in the running to be valedictorian this year and has already been accepted to all major universities in South Africa. But I doubt he’ll accept any of those offers. He has his sights set on the UK or the US. He might even make it into one of the Ivy League schools.

I walk over to him, pick his booklet up from the desk. His handwriting is small and almost illegible, the true mark of a genius some would argue. But I can read it well enough. I snatch two other students’ answer books, too.

I take the books back to my seat and start copying their answers. I’m too smart to make my answer booklet identical to Luke’s, so I throw in some answers from another clever pupil, and then a few from an average student. This way it’s harder for me to be caught.

Do I feel good about copying down my classmates’ answers? No. Is it the only choice I have in this situation? Probably.

When I’m done, I return the booklets to the students. Then I check over my answers. Everything is there. I can hardly believe it.

But now comes the difficult part. I need to find out how to unfreeze everything.

I grab a spare sheet and start writing different sentences across it:

Thank you for the time. I’m ready to go back now.
Unfreeze everything.
Please unfreeze everything.
Can I go back to normal, please?

Nothing seems to work. I look through my answer booklet again, remembering the phrase I wrote down there. When I find it, I notice I started with the words ‘I wish’.

So, I try again: I wish for the world to unfreeze so I can hand in my exam answers.

And just like that, sound breaks through the stillness. I never thought I’d be so relieved to hear someone sneeze right next to me.

The man in front lowers his arm, starts vigorously erasing yesterday’s notes from the board.

When an invigilator walks past, I present my paper.

“Ma’am, I’m done,” I whisper.

She nods, accepts my answer sheet.

After fetching my bag, just before I exit the room, I glance back and see Luke staring straight at me. The only reason I’m able to hand in so early is because Matthew, the other smart kid I copied from, completed his question paper in reverse order. He had all the final answers ready for me, while Luke supplied me with the answers to the first half.

I wish I could capture the pure shock on Luke’s face. Little old Khanya finished a matric maths exam before our future Harvard graduate. Eish, I almost feel bad.

I’m not stupid or lazy — I just suck at maths. I’ll use the pen one more time, next week, when we write Maths Paper 2.

But when I tuck the pen into the top pocket of my dress, beneath my blazer and pullover, I already know I won’t wait a whole week before I use it again.

In fact, I think I’ll miss my taxi; take the long way home today.

I want to see what else this pen can do.

***

Years ago, I made friends with Busi, the security guard who works in the mall behind the taxi rank. She’s on duty this afternoon, but I’m not going to say hello to her. If everything goes well, she won’t see me at all.

I take out my notebook once I’m outside the mall and I scribble, I wish the world would freeze again.

And it’s as simple as that. Before the ink is dry, my school skirt stops swaying in the breeze.

I head to the mall and make for the big family supermarket. Busi should be on lunch break now.

I weave past all the customers at the entrance of the shop, standing like silent guardians with their grocery bags and trolleys, and enter Busi’s office.

She’s at her desk. The smell of warm chakalaka and braaivleis hangs in the air. She holds a piece of sausage while she stares at her phone.

I turn to the big screen that displays six different windows, each showing a section of the store. The thump-thump of my heart fills the hollow silence as I lean in to inspect the footage.

It is frozen at 13:25, the time I penned my third wish.

The cameras freeze with the rest of the world. So that means…

The whole store is mine and I can grab anything I want without the cameras detecting me.

And when I’m done with the groceries, I think I’ll get a cell phone for my mom and new school shoes for my brother. Oh, and I must not forget to pick out the biggest, reddest apple for Mrs Harris.

Tell us: What’s the first thing you’d do if you had a magic pen that could freeze time?