Outsmarting the Valedictorian

[You're nothing but useless trash with a trust fund, and you don't deserve me. Only a future elite like Evelyn belongs by my side.]

Hunter cut the line, the call disconnecting with a sharp beep.

My screen immediately lit up with a new notification. He had just posted a video on social media making out with the valedictorian at a party, boldly tagging me in the caption.

Just because my GPA was dead last in our class, his mother had publicly lunged at my mom, her nails drawing blood as she screamed that I was nothing but minimum-wage trailer trash. They thought flawless transcripts gave them the right to steamroll everyone in their path. They treated the Ivy League like their own exclusive country club.

I grabbed a heavy perfume bottle, slammed it into my expensive vanity mirror until the glass shattered into a hundred jagged pieces, and picked up a pen.

I padlocked my walk-in closet full of expensive party dresses, survived on black coffee and four hours of sleep a night, and tore into every textbook like a bloodthirsty predator.

Results day.

I absolutely destroyed the finals and claimed the undeniable number one spot in the entire state.

And Hunter, along with his perfect little girlfriend? They were just two insignificant faces shoved into the back of the crowd, forced to crane their necks and look up at me.

Chapter 1

Because of a single flirty text message on my boyfriend's phone, what was supposed to be a secret relationship completely detonated right in the middle of the principal's office.

The guidance counselor had called our parents in, and Hunter's mother immediately went on the offensive. Right now, this gaunt, middle-aged woman was standing right in my face, spit literally flying from her mouth.

"You're barely of age and you already know how to seduce men! Our Hunter is going to the Ivy League! What even are you? Take a good look in the mirror.

You'll probably end up at some community college before dropping out to work on a factory assembly line! Can you take responsibility if you ruin his future?"

I calmly wiped her flying spit off my cheek with the back of my hand and turned my head to look at my boyfriend, Hunter. He kept his eyes glued to the floor, deliberately avoiding my gaze, lips sealed tight.

Beside me, my mom fired back. "What the hell are you talking about? You think good grades make you god? He's probably just a pathetic nerd!"

That only fueled Hunter's mother's fire. "Better than your daughter scraping together a combined hundred points across six subjects! If you can't discipline this trash, I'll do it for you!"

Hunter's mother suddenly went crazy, grabbing a cup of scalding tea from the desk and hurling it at my mom.

Without missing a beat, my mom delivered a resounding backhand slap that sent the woman crashing to the floor.

The room instantly dissolved into a mess of shattered porcelain and screaming.

Right at that moment, the office door swung open. Evelyn, our class's golden girl and valedictorian, walked in hugging a stack of graded papers to her chest. Her eyes kept darting toward our corner. Hunter's mother recognized her immediately; Evelyn had just given a speech at the last parent-teacher conference as the top student in our grade.

Seeing Evelyn walk in, her arrogance flared even higher. She sneered through her teeth, "Even if my son wanted a girlfriend, he would never settle for a useless piece of trash like your daughter! He would date the valedictorian!"

I watched a faint flush creep up Evelyn's neck as she stole a shy glance at Hunter. Hunter lifted his head, met her eyes for a split second, and then quickly looked away.

The whole circus finally ended with the guidance counselor giving both sides a generic slap on the wrist. Hunter had the flawless GPA, but my family had deep pockets, and my parents had essentially funded the school's new computer lab. The counselor couldn't afford to push me too hard, settling for a mild warning.

"You're students, so academics must come first. Delaney, you need to focus your energy on your studies from now on."

I could see right through the counselor's thinly veiled bias toward Hunter. After all, a romance between the absolute bottom of the barrel and the salutatorian? Anyone would automatically assume I was the dead weight dragging him down. I pressed my lips into a hard line. "Understood."

We were given the rest of the day off to cool down. My mom led me out of the school gates, surprisingly not uttering a single word of blame.

I stared at the fresh bloody scratch marks Hunter's mother had left on her cheek. My throat suddenly felt like it was packed with dry sand. I had completely humiliated her. Because of my garbage grades, she had poured an insane amount of money into bribing my way into this elite prep school, constantly kissing ass and donating to every school fundraiser just to buy me a shred of basic decency from the faculty.

I was the loser at the bottom of the class, completely stripping her of any right to fight back. A wealthy, proud woman, forced to bow her head and swallow her pride, apologizing to teachers in a hushed voice. All because someone else's son was the salutatorian, and her daughter was dead last. It was an unspoken ruleit was always my fault.

When people gossiped that she was a failure of a mother, someone as fiercely proud as her couldn't even force out a single word of defense.

"Mom" I stepped up beside her, opening my mouth but finding nothing but empty air.

She turned her head, exhaustion carved deep into the lines of her face. After a long moment of silence, with red-rimmed eyes, her hands clamped down onto my shoulders like iron vices. "What gives them the right to trample all over us like this? Delaney, you have to take back our pride and dignity with your own two hands!"

I stared at her. My mom was the toughest woman I knew; in my entire life, I had never seen her crack. Yet here she was, pushed to the absolute edge because she was stripped of the ammunition to fight back for her own daughter. My fingernails dug so hard into my palms that the skin broke.

Right then, a switch flipped inside my brain. I stared straight ahead, every muscle in my body pulling tight. I was going to carve my name into their pathetic little elite circle.

I was going to the Ivy League.

Chapter 2

That very night, Hunter sent a cold, clinical text message.

[We're done. You're only dragging out my timeline to step into high society, so stop clinging to me like a parasite.]

I didn't even have time to fully process the insult before Hunter and Evelyn went public just days later. Scrolling through my feed, I saw they had simultaneously posted a photo of their hands intertwined on a library desk.

[Being with the right person only pushes you to be better.]

The comments were a sickening waterfall of praise.

[Valedictorian and salutatorian, I'm so jealous!]

[Imagine their kids' SAT scores literal geniuses?]

The photo was expertly staged. A beam of afternoon sunlight filtered through the window, highlighting their interlocked fingers. The girl's hand was bare, pale, and elegantly understatedexactly the type Hunter liked. He used to complain constantly that my acrylic nail extensions were too flashy, too trashy.

Of course. Evelyn was always his exact type. Naturally beautiful with straight black hair, radiating that flawless, innocent vibe. Combine that with a GPA that left everyone else in the dust, and she was basically the untouchable protagonist of a coming-of-age movie.

And me? I was just the desperate annoyance he had settled for until something better came along.

My fingers gripped the edges of my phone so hard my knuckles turned white.

The brutal text he sent was just a smokescreen for the real truthhe had already lined up his elite replacement. He couldn't even wait a respectable week before shoving his new status symbol in my face, completely disregarding the wreckage he left behind.

Right. The Ivy League power couple. They were going to march off to an elite university together and build their flawless, high-society future. And I was nothing but the defective, white-trash mistake that everyone was relieved to see discarded.

I hit his contact and pressed call. It rang for an eternity before he finally picked up. I wanted to tear him apart, but the second I opened my mouth, a heavy knot lodged in my throat.

"What the hell is this, Hunter?" I swallowed hard, forcing the tremor out of my voice. "You couldn't even wait a week before parading your new social asset around?"

Silence stretched on the other end before his voice came through, low and unapologetic. "Look, Delaney, I can't control who I'm drawn to. We were never on the same level. She's different from you.

Being with Evelyn actually elevates my future."

"And what about everything I did for you?" I gripped the phone, my nails digging into the plastic case. "Was I just a placeholder while you shopped around?"

"Sorry," Hunter said, his tone slow and entirely devoid of guilt. "You're pathetic, but that's not my problem anymore."

A muffled female voice drifted through the receiver. Evelyn. "Hunter, I found that textbook"

Hunter's breathing hitched slightly. "I'm done here. Lose my number."

The line went dead.

A sharp, acidic burn clawed at the back of my throat. In that dead silence, a heavy, jagged lump lodged in my throat as my dignity was stripped bare and thrown into the dirt. I was the loser, ruthlessly kicked to the curb because I had zero social or academic currency.

All because of my garbage GPA. I was a liability; Evelyn was an asset. They were the golden couple, and I was just the street trash stinking up their pristine hallway.

But deep in the pit of my stomach, a tiny, jagged spark hit dry kindling.

It ignited instantly, roaring into an all-consuming inferno.

I was going to rip through every textbook in this school.

I was going to make every single person who looked down on me choke on their own arrogance.

I was going to take back my power.

Chapter 3

"Studying hard" was easy to say, but absolute hell to actually execute. I spent my entire freshman year partying, and I hadn't touched a single textbook since the start of sophomore year. My entire brain was wired for contouring tutorials, tracking celebrity drama, and sneaking into VIP club sections.

I genuinely thought academics were a pointless grind. My family was loaded. Even if I bombed my SATs and got rejected by every state college, my parents would just buy my way into some prestigious-sounding art school in Europe. Why the hell would I kill myself over a GPA?

For a year and a half of high school, I hadn't submitted a single assignment. My exams were either turned in blank or covered in random scribbles, securing my iron-clad position in the bottom three of my graduating class. I stared at the ceiling for a long time before deciding to start entirely from scratch with freshman material.

But the second I cracked open the biology textbook, the English language morphed into ancient hieroglyphs. I knew the individual words, but strung together, they meant absolutely nothing. I forced my eyes to track the lines for ten grueling minutes before my vision started swimming. I was yawning so hard my jaw cracked.

This was impossible. Whenever I used to watch Hunter burn through AP calculus worksheets, his pen never even paused. He made it look like breathing.

The urge to quit clawed at my throat. Whatever, I tried to tell myself. My family has money. So what if they get into the Ivy League?

In ten years, they'll probably be begging for a job at my dad's firm anyway.

My hand was already reaching to slam the textbook shut when a soft knock sounded and the door pushed open. My mom stepped into the room holding a bowl of fresh fruit, freezing in her tracks. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of me hunched over a desk.

"Delaney, you're studying?"

The color instantly drained from her cheeks. She forced a stiff smile, hurriedly setting the bowl down on the edge of my desk and wiping her hands nervously on her expensive silk skirt. "Oh my god, I'm interrupting you, aren't I? Keep going, don't let me break your focus!"

She practically sprinted backward out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her with a barely audible click.

I stared blankly at the bowl on my desk. They were organic grapes, meticulously snipped from the vine and scrubbed flawlessnot a single bruise or blemish in sight. Every single day, she did things like this. She didn't trust the housekeeper to wash the fruit properly, paranoid that I wouldn't like the chef's menu, constantly hovering to make sure I was catered to like royalty.

The image of her face kept flashing behind my eyes. First, the heartbreaking exhaustion as she begged me to fight for our pride. Then, the pure, terrified hope she had just shown from merely seeing me hold a pen.

My grip tightened on the plastic barrel of my highlighter. I yanked the textbook back open.

Damn it. Just one more chapter.

Studying was physical torture. But once I pushed past that initial, agonizing wall, the claws digging into my brain started to loosen. I even found a weird spark of interest while tearing through my AP US History textbook. My parents had dragged me to historical sites in D.C. a million times, but I never actually paid attention to the brutal, strategic bloodbath of the Revolutionary War.

Reading about the sheer audacity and ruthless tactics it took to build a country from nothing was actually a total rush.

I had never taken a single note in this class. The margins of my textbook were just covered in my bored doodles. I had drawn a ridiculous mustache and devil horns on George Washington's portrait. Back then, it was just a way to kill time during fifth period, but looking at it now, a sharp twinge of embarrassment curled in my stomach.

I kept flipping the heavy, glossy pages, completely losing track of time until the words blurred into black streaks. When my alarm blasted the next morning, I jolted awake, my cheek plastered against my desk. I had actual textbook indentations pressed into my skin.

I dragged myself into the bathroom. I looked at the face in the mirrora face that used to spend hours meticulously contouring just to impress a guy. I cranked the faucet to full blast, splashed freezing water over my skin, and scrubbed away every last trace of yesterday's expensive makeup to reveal sharp, dangerously ambitious eyes.

When I went down to the dining room, my mom was hovering over the table, piling bacon and eggs onto my plate like I was an Olympic athlete in training.

"Eat up! Brain work burns a lot of calories!" she insisted. "My girl is a natural genius. You put in just a little effort, and you'll crush that little punk. Who the hell does he think he is? We'll grab an Ivy League acceptance letter just to shove it in his face!"

I stared at the mountain of food on my plate, a tight knot forming in my chest. My mom had always possessed this blind, bulletproof faith in me. Even when her daughter was a total disaster, she still treated me like absolute gold. Just the bare minimum effort from me was enough to make her light up the room. It was painfully easy to make her happy.

I met her bright, expectant eyes.

Tonight I guess I'll read another chapter.

Chapter 4

I ran into Evelyn right at the school gates the next morning.

My usual group of friends immediately swarmed me, demanding to know where we were hitting up that night.

"Hey, Delaney, this crazy new club just opened up downtown. I heard the VIP section is insane. We're going tonight, right?"

Evelyn was walking past just as the question dropped. She cut her eyes toward us.

She didn't say a single word, didn't even twitch a muscle in her face, but that single sidelong glance was loaded with enough contempt to freeze a room. It was absolute disdain, like she had just stepped in something foul on the sidewalk. In her eyes, we were nothing but literal trashbottom-feeders existing on an entirely different evolutionary rung than her.

And honestly, the brutal truth was that she wasn't wrong.

Wherever she walked, teachers and classmates parted the seas to shower her with praise. But when my name came up, it was always the same whispered insults.

[That useless burnout.]

"Earth to Delaney! Are you deaf? Drinks are on me tonight! And what happened to your face? You look dead. Let's hit the bathroom so you can put your face on."

I snapped back to reality, taking in my squad with their designer micro-skirts, heavy lash extensions, and razor-sharp contouring. I suddenly realized that in my rush to get to school and actually review material, I had completely forgotten to do my makeup. But as I stared at their perfectly painted, high-maintenance faces, an uncomfortable tightness twisted in my gut.

"I'm out I've got plans tonight." I couldn't bring myself to say I was going home to crack open a textbook. They would have laughed me out of the building.

"Ugh, what kind of plans? You're so boring lately." Seeing that I wasn't budging, they rolled their eyes in unison and strutted off in a cloud of expensive perfume.

I stood there, my eyes locked onto the back of Evelyn's head. She gave a small wave to Hunter, who was waiting a few yards away, quickened her pace, and smoothly hooked her arm through his. Hunter tilted his head toward her with a sickeningly soft smile and gently ruffled her hair.

They looked like the flawless cover models for a prep school brochure.

I stood rooted to the pavement, all the blood draining from my face.

They were dating right out in the open, but the guidance counselor hadn't bothered to call their parents in. Word in the hallways was that Evelyn had personally guaranteed the counselor that their GPA wouldn't slip by a single decimal point. So, while PDA and relationships were strictly forbidden, they were given an invisible hall pass to flaunt it in everyone's faces.

Of course. Why would a relationship between the valedictorian and salutatorian ever be considered a disruption? They were a match made in Ivy League heaven. It seemed like the entire school had collectively agreed to worship them.

Up ahead, Evelyn whispered something in Hunter's ear. He imperceptibly turned his head to throw a glance over his shoulder at me. His warm smile instantly vanished, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated disgusta perfect mirror of Evelyn's.

My hands curled into tight fists. I wanted to march over there and slap the arrogance right off his face. But I knew exactly how that would end. I just stood there, burning holes into their retreating backs until they disappeared into the main building.

First period was AP US History.

Honestly, I was equally garbage at all subjects, STEM or Humanities. I only chose this specific trackHistory, Gov, and Biobecause Hunter had picked them, and I blindly followed him so we could sit together during passing periods.

It was only now that the ugly truth slammed into me. I stared at the front row. Evelyn was seated right in the center, the teacher already leaning over her desk, engaged in an intense discussion. Hunter hadn't chosen these classes for himself. He had chosen them because she did.

He was probably obsessed with her the entire time we were together.

I kept my mouth shut and pulled out the textbook I had been staring at last night. In a weird stroke of luck, the class was currently reviewing early colonial historythe exact era I had forced myself to read about hours ago.

In the past, I treated this class like a free period. I would hide my phone under my desk, scroll through social media, pass notes, gossip with whoever was unlucky enough to sit next to me anything but pay attention.

But today, watching Hunter and Evelyn huddled together over their notes like the perfect academic power couple, my phone suddenly felt like lead in my pocket. I couldn't bring myself to pull it out.

I flipped open the heavy textbook and forced my racing heart to slow down. My reading last night had been clumsy and surface-level. But the strangest thing happened: unlike every other time I had sat in this room, when the teacher started lecturing today, the words actually started to make sense.

Chapter 5

Before, the history teacher's voice used to sound like a droning monk chanting scripturesin one ear and out the other, acting as an instant sedative. But now, I could actually follow his logic. My brain was actively tracking the connections as he lectured. To my absolute shock, the moment he finished summarizing a key concept, I realized I could recite the entire list of points from memory!

Adrenaline spiked in my veins. I stared intently at the open textbook, completely tuning out the existence of Hunter and Evelyn in the front row.

Wait am I actually a genius?

"This row, starting from the front. Recite the strategies employed during the American Revolution to consolidate the unified colonies," the teacher commanded, suddenly pointing his pen at Evelyn. "Start with you."

Evelyn stood up with practiced poise and delivered the answer without missing a beat. "Politically, the Articles of Confederation were eventually replaced by the Constitution, establishing a federal system with a strong central government to maintain authority over the states. Economically, Alexander Hamilton proposed the assumption of state debts and the creation of a national bank to standardize currency"

Her voice was crisp and melodious, flowing effortlessly without a single stutter.

The teacher adjusted his glasses, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Excellent. Next."

The students behind her stumbled through their turns, forgetting half the material and stumbling over dates. The teacher's mood quickly soured.

"Sloppy! Go home and write this out ten times! If you can't recite it flawlessly tomorrow, you'll be standing in the back of the room for the rest of the period. Next!"

I slowly pushed my chair back and stood up.

The entire classroom plunged into dead silence.

Hunter twisted in his seat to look at me, his face darkening. Evelyn also threw a glance over her shoulder, a flicker of pure mockery flashing in her eyes.

I knew exactly why they were reacting this way. As the undisputed dead-last student of the grade, my refusal to engage academically was practically legendary. Normally, when I was called on, I would just stare blankly out the window until the teacher, accustomed to my absolute zero-effort policy, gave up and moved to the next victim.

"Delaney, you" The teacher frowned slightly, already raising his hand to dismiss me.

I took a deep breath, deliberately ignoring the stares burning into me from every directionsome waiting for the trainwreck, others just morbidly curious. I opened my mouth and recited the exact points I had just memorized. Although my nerves made me pause for a fraction of a second in the middle, the delivery was solid and accurate.

The history teacher's tight frown slowly unraveled. After a moment, a genuine smile touched the corners of his mouth.

"Very good. Excellent, actually. It's obvious you put in the work to memorize this. Keep this standard up. Very well done. Take your seat."

Low murmurs of shock rippled through the surrounding desks. The mocking sneer on Evelyn's face froze awkwardly before she shot me a venomous glare and whipped her head back around.

I felt a sudden rush of heat flood my cheeks, and I practically dropped back into my seat. My ears were definitely burning red.

But beneath the embarrassment, a strange, electric thrill surged through my chest.

This was the first time a teacher had ever praised me. The first time in my entire life.

It was an intoxicating, entirely foreign highcompletely different from the rush of spotting a hot guy at a club, getting a massive allowance drop from my parents, or walking out of a designer boutique with an expensive new bag. This was a deep, bone-rattling sense of satisfaction. It felt like something dormant inside me had just aggressively violently cracked open. I was actually blushing from academic validation.

The heavy fog in my brain cleared, and I was officially hooked on AP US History.

I was done being the bottom-feeder. Even if it was just in this one class, I wanted to demolish the curve.

When the bell rang, I physically jumped, shocked that the period was already over. Forty-five minutes used to feel like an eternal prison sentence; I used to count down the seconds on the clock. But today? It felt like I blinked and it was gone. I actually wanted more.

I looked down at my textbook. The margins of the page were now densely packed with meticulous notes, making it look wildly out of place next to my other pristine, untouched books.

My grip tightened on the pen. I wanted to bleed ink across every single textbook I owned.

Evelyn and Hunter walked right past my desk, but I barely registered them. My mind was already locking onto tonight's history assignment.

Chapter 6

That night, for the first time in recorded history, I actually started my homework the second I walked into my bedroom.

My mom was so shocked she practically hovered by the door, wanting to speak but terrified of breaking my concentration. I could hear her hushed, disbelieving laughter drifting through the hallway.

"Did you see that? Our girl is actually studying!" The sheer joy in her whispered voice was unmistakable.

"She's growing up," my dad replied softly, his tone warm with pride. "She's finally figuring things out."

I couldn't stop the small smirk from pulling at the corner of my mouth as I buried my head back into my AP US History worksheets.

It didn't take long before I started completely dominating History.

Mr. Davis, our teacher, usually operated with this strict, old-school military stiffness. He never smiled and always looked like he was one minor inconvenience away from snapping. But with me, he was suddenly incredibly generous with his praise.

Whether it was flawlessly rattling off DBQ points from memory, acing a pop quiz, or just actually being engaged during lectures, he made sure to acknowledge it. And the more he hyped me up, the harder I pushed. I became so obsessed that I started secretly drilling flashcards during my other classes.

Every night when I got home, I would aggressively tear through the assigned reading, dissecting the material cover to cover. I was only putting in about an hour of solid focus a night, but compared to my usual absolute zero, it was a massive, system-shocking transformation.

Before I knew it, the first major exams of the semester hit.

When the history test hit my desk, I scanned the short-answer section and felt a dangerous spike of confidence. I had practically hard-wired most of these specific questions into my brain over the last two weeks. History wasn't some abstract puzzle; it didn't require a baseline of complex formulas. If you had the brainpower and the sheer willpower to memorize it, you could bulldoze your way through.

My pen flew across the paper, tearing through the pages, and I finished the entire test with time to spare.

The rest of the subjects, however, were a complete massacre.

I had poured all my energy into history, barely even glancing at my notes for bio or calculus outside of the actual lectures. The equations and formulas looked slightly less like alien symbols now, but I still had absolutely no idea how to solve them. With no other option, I gritted my teeth and just aggressively guessed my way through, stubbornly refusing to turn in a blank sheet.

The second the final bell rang, a suffocating wave of panic crashed over me.

This was the first time I had ever genuinely tried on an exam. What were my scores going to look like? Was I actually going to see progress, or was I still doomed to the bottom of the curve? Would Mr. Davis be disappointed after hyping me up? Would Evelyn and Hunter finally have concrete proof to laugh in my face?

The thoughts twisted in my head until my skull felt like it was going to crack open. I couldn't focus on anything else; I just sat there, waiting for my sentence to be handed down.

The grades were posted faster than I expected.

I watched Evelyn walking down the aisles, passing out the graded history tests. I took a deep, shaky breath.

When she reached my desk, she froze. She stared down at the paper in her hand, her perfectly plucked eyebrows slamming together in a tight V. She scrutinized the page for a solid ten seconds, looking like she physically couldn't process what she was seeing. Finally, she shoved past my desk and practically threw the paper down in front of me.

A spike of ice shot straight down my spine for the first time in my life. I squeezed my eyes shut, my fingers gripping the edge of the paper, and it took me a long moment before I forced myself to look.

A massive number slashed in thick red ink practically screamed off the page.

[AP US History: 92.]

I just stared at it. My hands started to shake uncontrollably.

If you've never been the absolute worst student in the class, it's impossible to understand the sheer, intoxicating shock of this moment. My scores were usually in the single digits. Breaking twenty was a miracle. And now, I was staring at a 92?! An A?! My score?!

A disbelieving laugh ripped out of my throat. I flipped the paper over and over, checking the name at the top just to make sure it was real. The few points I lost were from earlier eras we hadn't reviewed yet, gaps in my foundational knowledge that I still needed to patch.

Right as I was floating on this ridiculous high, Mr. Davis walked in.

The chatter instantly died down. He stepped up to the podium, cleared his throat, and completely skipped the usual lecture.

"This was a notoriously difficult exam," he announced, his voice carrying easily across the room. "But the overall performance exceeded my expectations. I'm impressed."

He picked up a printed sheet of paper. "We only had three students break ninety this time. Evelyn with a 99, and Hunter with a 98."

Mr. Davis paused, and a rare, genuine smile broke across his face. "And Delaney."

My heart instantly redlined.

"Delaney has been putting in a tremendous amount of focused effort recently," he continued, looking right at me. "Clearly, the potential is there. To make this kind of leap so quickly is remarkable. 92 points. Don't get complacentkeep pushing. Let's aim for a perfect score next time!"

The entire classroom erupted into stunned whispers.

Chapter 7

Every head in the room whipped toward my desk, erupting into furious, hushed whispers. I caught Hunter staring at me, a complicated knot of confusion tightening his features. Evelyn, meanwhile, looked like she was actively chewing on glass.

A massive, uncontrollable smirk stretched across my face. I couldn't even put the high into wordsit was pure, unadulterated validation. In a matter of seconds, I had gone from the resident trash of the class to a total academic threat. Sure, it was only one subject, but it was hard proof that I wasn't actually stupid. No wonder these Ivy League tryhards were so addicted to this game.

The sheer cocktail of pride, dominance, and satisfaction was a better rush than anything I'd ever felt.

I floated through the rest of the period. The second the bell rang, Evelyn's little court of followers immediately swarmed her desk. At this prep school, having a 4.0 GPA basically made you royalty, which meant you came with a built-in entourage. They deliberately cranked up the volume of their voices, making sure every syllable carried straight to my row.

"Some people are so brain-dead they don't even know how to cheat believably. A 92? Who is she kidding?"

"Exactly. It's just pathetic delusion at this point."

"Evelyn, you're literally untouchable. Another perfect 99! How do you even do it?"

Evelyn's expression finally smoothed out into her signature, sickeningly sweet smile. "Ugh, it's just a 99. I lost a point on a stupid careless mistake. You guys know me, I literally never open a book at home." She paused, letting out a soft, condescending sigh. "But whatever, other people's desperate little stunts have nothing to do with us. You can fake it for a day, but you can't fake it forever. Honestly, I just feel sorry for her. Fumbling her relationship and failing her classes it's just sad."

Her clique burst into mean-girl giggles on cue.

My fingers crushed my test paper. The intoxicating high from five minutes ago evaporated, replaced by a sudden, blinding rush of heat to my head. The last remaining thread of my patience audibly snapped.

I pushed out of my chair, crossed the aisle, and swept her entire stack of perfect, color-coded study guides straight off her desk.

The papers scattered across the floor in a messy landslide.

I stood over her, pinning her with a dead stare. "Evelyn. Swallow the garbage you just spewed out of your mouth. Right now."

Evelyn jumped, genuinely startled, before her brows slammed together. "What the hell is your problem, Delaney? Are you going to hit me? You losers can't pass a test, but you're always ready to start a physical fight."

"I'm not repeating myself," she scoffed, giving me a dismissive once-over. "A hit dog will holler. Sometimes I really do pity you, Delaney. This cheap little stunt is the only way you know how to beg for attention."

My vision actually tunneled.

I opened my mouth, but before I could get a word out, a heavy hand shoved my shoulder hard.

I lost my footing, stumbling backward until my hip smashed violently into the corner of a heavy wooden desk. A sharp spike of pain shot up my spine.

I whipped my head up. Hunter.

He immediately pulled Evelyn behind him, shielding her as he glared at me like I was a feral animal. "What is wrong with you? Evelyn is completely out of your league. Drop the pathetic street-trash act!"

Blood roared in my ears. "She just accused me of cheating! Did you go deaf?!"

Hunter's jaw tightened. "Playing stupid tricks won't get you anywhere, Delaney. Everyone here knows exactly what you did. I suggest you ground yourself in reality before you embarrass yourself even more."

A dark, vicious fire ripped right through my chest. My mind went completely blank, replaced by a pure, unadulterated urge to destroy both of them. Did a flawless transcript give them a free pass to treat everyone else like garbage? Did it give them the right to dump their toxic insecurities all over me?

The words tore out of my throat before I could even filter them.

"You think you're so untouchable? By the end of finals, I am going to completely crush your score!"

The entire room went dead silent.

And then, they exploded into laughter. Evelyn's minions practically doubled over, gasping for air.

"Delaney, at least make your delusions realistic! Evelyn is the valedictorian. You? Beat her?!"

"Talk is cheap! Keep dreaming, loser!"

Chapter 8

Even Evelyn let out a breathy, condescending laugh. "Deal, Delaney. If you can actually beat my score, I'll do whatever you want."

She leaned in, her eyes gleaming with malice. "But when you inevitably crash and burn, you're going to stand at the school gates and scream 'I, Delaney, am a worthless piece of trash' three times. You got the guts for that?"

The sheer arrogance radiating from her face completely fried my last remaining brain cell.

"Deal! And when I win, you're going to get down on your knees on the stage at the all-school assembly and announce to everyone that you're nothing but a cheap, pathetic thief!"

"Suit yourself." She gave me a sideways, pitying look. "Digging your own grave. How pathetic."

"Save the smug act," I shot back. "Just make sure you have your kneepads ready."

I grabbed my designer bag, turned on my heel, and walked straight out of the classroom.

Talking trash in the moment felt like a massive adrenaline hit, but the second the heavy double doors of the school slammed shut behind me, reality hit me like a freight train. I slapped my forehead hard. Why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut? If I really wanted payback, I could have just paid someone to slash their tires! Why the hell did I have to challenge her on an exam?! I only had a few months until finals.

Beating Evelyn's untouchable GPA was literally a mathematical impossibility. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I cursed myself the entire ride home.

I dragged myself through the front door, my stomach twisting in aggressive knots. If I actually had to publicly humiliate myself at the school gates, I'd rather just throw myself into oncoming traffic.

I was in the middle of a full-blown crisis when my mom knocked on my door.

"Delaney, come down! Roman is here!"

"Who the hell is Ro" I froze, snapping my head toward the door. "Roman?!"

I shot up from my bed so fast I nearly knocked over my nightstand. My mom jumped back in the doorway.

"Don't be rude to Roman! Go out there and say hi."

Jackpot. This was exactly the lifeline I needed. I sprinted down the hall and practically ripped the living room doors open.

"Roman! You're here!"

Roman was sitting casually on our custom leather sofa. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, throwing a golden halo over his broad shoulders and sharp profile. It was almost infuriating how flawless he looked. Hearing the commotion, he turned his head. His dark eyes locked onto me, tracking my manic energy with mild amusement.

"Must be a full moon. What happened to calling me 'that boring nerd'?"

Heat instantly rushed to my face.

Roman was the son of my mom's best friend and practically a living legend in our zip code. He started skipping grades in elementary school and was self-teaching AP Physics by middle school. He was only a few years older than me, but he was already fast-tracking a dual PhD at MIT. He had guaranteed Ivy League acceptance since he was sixteen, but he still took the SATs just to casually pull a flawless perfect score.

He wasn't human. That wasn't a brain inside his skull; it was a goddamn supercomputer.

Back when I was fully embracing my burnout era, I completely despised him. Guys like himwith the perfect face, the perfect brain, and the flawless trust fundwere just blinding reminders of exactly how much of a mess I was.

But everything was different now! I needed him. With Roman backing me, crushing Evelyn and Hunter would be absolute child's play.

"Roman is staying in town for a bit," my mom said, completely oblivious to my scheming. "You two haven't seen each other in forever. Chat while I have the chef prep some snacks!"

I didn't hesitate. I marched straight up to him, grabbed his expensive silk tie, and yanked him toward me, my eyes locking fearlessly into his. "Roman, we need to discuss a guaranteed, highly profitable transaction."

Roman raised an eyebrow, his gaze dropping to my fist curled in his tie before sliding back up to my face. He leaned back slightly, unbothered but clearly wary. "Delaney, what the hell is wrong with you?"

My confident smirk faltered. I leaned in closer, ignoring his personal space. "I recall you pulling a perfect 1600 on your SATs, right?"

"A 1600, a 4.0, and early admission," Roman corrected, his tone flat and unamused. "Delaney, whatever scam you're currently plotting, I highly suggest you hit the brakes."

Damn it. No wonder he was notoriously single. The guy was built like a brick wall and twice as stubborn.

I swallowed the spike of frustration and tightened my grip on his tie. "Come on, Roman. We practically shared a sandbox. Could you really just stand by and watch me completely ruin my future?"

Roman stared down at me, his expression completely deadpan. "Absolutely."

Chapter 9

I choked, but I quickly shoved the insult aside, refusing to drop the act. I got straight to the point: "Roman. I need you to tutor me."

"Tutor you?!"

Roman finally dropped the stoic act. He stared at me like I had suddenly sprouted a second head. "Delaney, did you bump your head? Or are you actively possessed by a demon?"

My patience officially evaporated. "Roman, are you going to help me or not? Is it really a crime that I actually want to get my life together?! You're not getting out of this. If you don't help me, I am absolutely going to tell your mom."

Roman's mother had always wanted a daughter. Instead, she got Roman, which meant she basically treated me like the princess she never had. If she found out her golden-boy son refused to help me study, she would rip him apart.

Roman's expression instantly froze. After a long, tense pause, his jaw tightened. "Delaney, you are literally asking for a death sentence. What kind of insane stunt are you pulling this time?"

I gripped his forearm tight, my expression deadly serious. "I want to go to the Ivy League. I need you to help me get into the Ivy League. My ex dumped me for the valedictorian, and I made a public bet that I am going to absolutely crush both of their scores on the final exams."

I fully expected Roman to laugh in my face, just like everyone else had. Instead, his eyes widened slightly before he let out a harsh breath, running a hand through his dark hair in clear frustration.

"Delaney, did getting dumped actually fry your brain?!" He glared at me. "And what exactly do I get out of this suicide mission?"

"You're trying to launch a startup, right?" I said quickly. "I'll give you every single dime of my trust fund access!"

Roman let out a short, cold laugh. "If my company relied on your pocket change, I'd already be bankrupt."

He suddenly grabbed my wrists, spun me around, and slammed my back against the edge of my heavy oak desk.

His long fingers clamped hard around my chin, tilting my face up.

A sudden, dangerous intensity radiated from him. "If you become my student, there is no backing out. If you even think about quitting halfway through, I will make you realize exactly how much of a nightmare it is to piss me off."

It only took a second for it to click. The reason Roman wasn't laughing at my "impossible" goal was because, to an absolute machine like him, getting into the Ivy League wasn't a challenge. It was a baseline.

I had hit the absolute jackpot.

I stared right back into his dark eyes. "Deal. If I slack off, you have full permission to destroy me."

Roman didn't waste a single second. He immediately demanded we start right then and there.

"Wait," I said, a little surprised. "Don't you need to, like, review the syllabus or something first?"

A mockingly sharp smirk hooked the corner of his mouth. "If I need to review basic arithmetic just to tutor you, I might as well jump off a bridge. Stop wasting my time and open the book."

I rolled my eyes and dragged out my AP Calculus textbook, the bane of my existence. I had a solid memory, which meant I could memorize dates and historical facts with zero issue, but anything requiring complex, multi-step logic completely scrambled my brain.

Roman didn't bother with a warm-up. He aggressively flipped back to freshman-level geometry.

"Solve this one. Let's see how broken your foundation actually is."

I looked down at the page. It was a 3D geometric proof. The overlapping lines and angles immediately made my vision blur. I couldn't even process the prompt, let alone solve the equation.

Point A, Point B, Point C a sharp headache was already building behind my eyes.

I looked up at Roman's growing impatience and swallowed hard. "I can't."

"You can't?" He frowned, leaning closer. "Which part?"

"Like literally all of it. I don't even understand the question."

Roman's expression darkened into utter seriousness. He reached out, placed a hand flat against my forehead, and stared at me for a long, silent moment.

"Delaney," he said, his voice completely deadpan. "Is it possible you have an undiagnosed learning disability? Have you ever actually been medically tested for cognitive delays?"

I shoved his chest hard, breaking his grip on me, and sneered, closing the distance between us. "Drop the arrogant, condescending act right now. I will make you watch as I grind every single one of those elite snobs into the dirt!"

"Alright, alright." He grabbed my wrists again, halting my attack, and pulled the textbook back toward him. "Guess I'm the one who's cursed."

"Look here," he ordered, his tone suddenly shifting back to a commanding, laser-focused edge. He tapped the page with his pen. "This is Point A. If you draw a line connecting it to Point C"

He dragged a sharp line across the diagram. "Now, what does this shape become?"

I stared at it, my brain working in overdrive. "An equilateral triangle?"

"Exactly." He tapped the page again. "So you're not completely hopeless."

Chapter 10

I assumed a genius like Roman would just rush through the explanation. For a guy like him, the answer was probably glaringly obvious the second he looked at the page; his brain didn't need the extra stepping stones.

But to my surprise, he was actually incredibly meticulous. He broke down every single theorem and equation without skipping a beat. Following his logic, I found myself actually grasping the concepts piece by piece. Whenever I hit a wall and my eyes glazed over, he would just relentlessly dismantle the problem into even smaller, digestible chunks.

"So, what's the final answer?" Hours later, he tossed his pen onto the desk, leaning back in the heavy leather chair with his legs stretched out, his dark eyes locked onto me.

I hesitated, testing the waters. "The resulting figure is twice the shaded area?"

"Bingo." He snapped his fingers. "Your brain isn't completely useless, but your foundation is an absolute disaster. You're going to memorize every single formula in this chapter tonight. I'm testing you tomorrow."

He leaned in, his broad shoulders boxing me in against the desk, dropping his voice into a lethal warning. "If you blank on a single one, I will personally make you regret it."

With him this close, I realized his eyelashes were absurdly long. When he blinked, they cast sharp shadows over his cheekbones. It was actually infuriating. How could someone have that kind of unfair genetic advantage and a supercomputer for a brain?

What was his fatal flaw? He was famously single and never brought girls around. Was he secretly gay?

Before I could spiral down that rabbit hole, Roman straightened up, completely unbothered. "Have your mom sign you out of evening study hall from now on. You're working with me." He didn't even wait for a response, just grabbed his jacket and walked out.

My mom, who had apparently been lurking in the hallway the second she heard we were done, scurried over, wiping her hands nervously on her skirt. "Roman! You're leaving already? Stay for dinner!"

Roman waved a hand effortlessly. "I'll pass tonight, thanks. My mom's expecting me at home. Don't worry about walking me out. I'll be back tomorrow."

My mom watched his retreating back like he was a departing deity, only turning to me once the elevator doors clicked shut. "Delaney, having Roman tutor you is like using a missile to kill a mosquito. You'd better not waste this chance, you hear me?"

I nodded, my fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the textbook. His logic for that last proof was actually pretty fascinating. I wanted to run through the steps one more time just to lock it in.

I showed up to school criminally early the next morning