He wanted to finish everything off in style and leave a solid impression behind as he left. Therefore he studied hard all spring in order to get the best grades possible. They should never be able to complain about anything ever again, he thought, those people.
In April, one of his teachers called him up to his room for a brief talk. He looked troubled, as if there was something that bothered him when it really shouldn't.
"You know", he said. "You are the most brilliant student I've ever had, and that says plenty.
My father smiled on the inside, butterflies in his stomach, stone cold face.
"But... the problem is...", the teacher continued, "that you're, well, too superiour. I've been told that the other students feel recentment towards your achievments."
A chill ran down his spine.
"I'm ashamed to tell you this, but I wish you would slow down a little, for the sake of equality in the class".
The butterflies fell down dead to the ground.
As he left the teacher's office he felt a strange sense of pride coming over him, bur it soon shifted and turned to anger. For him, it was a wierd sort of accomplishment that his school had to hold him back. For the society around him it was yet another failure in reaching the final state of complete justice.
A cool wind ran through the streets of his little town, the newly blossomed spring flowers shivered.