My Rival And I

The classmate filling us in was still rambling on.

"You can forget about any of the top spots. It will never be your turn for the fourth spot. She's the homeroom teacher's daughter. Fifth is impossible too, because that's me."

My childhood friend, Connor Thompson, and I exchanged a knowing look. Instead of feeling anxious, we were unusually excited.

At last, we could stop competing with each other and start outcompeting everyone else instead!

At our old school, we had taken first so often that there was no one left to impress. Life had become so dull and boring.

Just then, a middle-aged woman in a business suit walked in. She was our homeroom teacher, Ms. Dawson. She saw the two of us with distaste and pointed toward the trash can.

"You two new students, sit in the back."

We frowned. We didn't care where we sat, but those seats...

The seats beside the trash can were usually reserved for the worst students in an honors class. Sitting there meant handling every menial chore, from emptying the trash to cleaning the classroom.

My expression turned cold. "There are plenty of empty seats up front. Why do we have to sit there?"

Ms. Dawson sneered. "Weak students should know their place. In our honors class, grades are all that matter."

Connor and I snorted in disbelief. "We're weak students?"

Ms. Dawson looked down at us and shot back.

"What else would you be? The semester is already half over. Would good students transfer at a time like this? Besides, you have to pass an exam to join our honors class, and you didn't even take it. Since you've pulled strings to get in, keep quiet and behave!"

I understand it now.

She had mistaken us for nepo babies who had slipped in using some kind of connection.

It made sense, though. The principal had personally waived the entrance exam and recruited us after seeing our outrageous scores. She probably hadn't heard it yet.

That familiar urge to show off began stirring inside me.

I faked a cough and asked, "Ms. Dawson, is it possible that... We never had to take the exam in the first place?"

She scoffed as if she had heard some kind of joke. "You didn't have to take the exam? Do you know what it takes to earn an exam exemption here? You would have to be a genius scoring way ahead of everyone else."

She scanned us from head to toe before rolling her eyes. "You two? Not only do you have terrible grades, but you even love to beg. Your characters are questionable, too."

Connor's temper flared, but I pulled him back and shook my head.

"Forget it," I mumbled under my breath. "Even if we're right, arguing with a teacher will only make us look wrong. We'll let our grades speak for us."

The school held quizzes and exams frequently.

We didn't have to be afraid of not having a chance to prove ourselves.

As soon as Ms. Dawson left, the student who was ranked fifth and had eagerly filled us in, walked away in disgust and muttered under his breath.

"Seriously? I wasted all that time talking to two nepo babies. I thought you were top students transferring in."

We ignored him.

Once seated, we took out our textbooks and began studying.

Let our grades speak?

Perfect. Grades were our favorite language.

Just imagining everyone's faces when the results came out sent a thrill through me. The more I thought about it, the more excited I got, and the more excited I got, the more I thought about it.

Connor, who was sitting next to me, felt the same.

After all, showing off was our favorite thing in the world; the kind of showing off that would stun everyone.

A truly earth-shaking display!