Chapter 2: Tied with the Genius

The next day was Monday. I yawned my way into the classroom.

The halls smelled like floor wax and burnt coffee. Just another Monday.

I slumped into my seat, still half-asleep.

My deskmate Ryan Chen tapped my shoulder. "Alex Harper, we’ve got a math quiz at lunch. Let me copy, yeah?"

Ryan was always the optimist—he figured if you asked nicely enough, the universe would hand you an A. Wish it worked like that. I just shook my head, grinning.

I shot him a look. "Even if we put our scores together, we wouldn’t pass. What’s the point of copying off me?"

Ryan scratched his head. "I’d copy off Lucas, but he won’t let me."

He said it like Lucas was some kind of untouchable math god, which, honestly, wasn’t far off.

Lucas Grant, sitting in front of us, was a top student—always in the top three for every test.

The guy was so sharp you’d think he was prepping for the Ivy League from birth. He even had the posture of someone who’d never gotten a B in his life.

But the guy was proud as hell and looked down on slackers like us.

He acted like we were background extras in his academic highlight reel. I could practically hear the soundtrack in his head. Yeah, thanks for the cameo, Lucas.

Lucas heard Ryan and turned around, sneering:

"Seriously? High school math is so easy and you still have to cheat?"

He made it sound like we were asking for the answers to quantum physics. I rolled my eyes.

"If I ever got your scores, I’d pack up and go work at the auto plant tightening bolts!"

That did it. His attitude pissed me off, so I activated my superpower.

[Ding! You and Lucas Grant are now fifty-fifty!]

It was like a beam of light zapped me from head to toe.

Suddenly, all those formulas and theorems I used to ignore started making sense. It was like the Matrix, but with algebra.

This was in the bag, no question.

Ryan gave a nervous smile, trying to smooth things over. "Lucas, there’s no way we could compare to you…"

He glanced at me, eyebrows raised, as if to say, "You sure about this?"

I waved him off, then said to Lucas:

"So being good at math means you get to look down on people?"

Lucas shrugged. "Yeah, what else?"

Wow. No hesitation.

I nodded, stood up, and shouted across the room:

"Lucas Grant, how about a bet? Whoever scores lower on today’s math test has to stand in front of the whole class and yell three times, ‘I’m a loser! I should go work at the auto plant tightening bolts!’ You in?"

The whole class was stunned.

You could hear a pin drop. Then—boom—the whispers started. Everyone loves a good showdown.

"No way, how does Alex even dare?"

Someone in the back snickered, "Maybe he’s just prepping himself to go work at the plant."

"He’s gonna challenge Lucas in math? Why not challenge Elon Musk in net worth while he’s at it?"

I had to laugh at that one. I mean, if only.

Hearing the chatter, I scratched my head awkwardly.

I’d love to use my power to go fifty-fifty with Elon Musk in net worth, but my ability only works face-to-face.

If I could just shake his hand, I’d be set for life. Too bad the world doesn’t work like that.

"You’re on!" Lucas agreed confidently. "Don’t back out when you lose! The whole class will be witnesses!"

He said it loud enough for everyone to hear, probably thinking he’d get a standing ovation.

Right then, the math teacher walked in with a stack of test papers.

"Quiet down, everyone. Back to your seats, time for the test!"

Ms. Evans had that no-nonsense tone, the kind that could freeze a riot. Everyone scrambled to look busy.

"This one’s a little tough, but just do your best—don’t stress out."

She always tried to sound encouraging, but we all knew what was coming.

"You’ve got one and a half periods to finish. I’ll use the last half period to go over the answers."

The tests were handed out quickly. I glanced over it.

Tough?

This test was so easy, even a middle schooler could ace it.

I had to keep from cracking up. Either I was a math genius now, or Lucas had been sandbagging this whole time.

I grabbed my pen and got to work.

For once, the numbers lined up like old friends. I zipped through the questions, barely breaking a sweat. Here we go.

Forty minutes later, Lucas and I both finished at the same time.

We both stood up, almost in sync, and walked to the front. It was like a showdown in an old Western, except with pencils. Cue the theme music.

Lucas raised his hand, confidently turned in his paper, and shot me a provocative look.

He smirked, daring me to match him. I just raised an eyebrow and grinned back.

I gave him a cold smirk, flipped him off, then stood up with my test:

"Ms. Evans, I’m done!"

The math teacher stared at me like I was an alien.

She did a double take, then shrugged, probably thinking, "Whatever gets them excited about math."

After collecting our tests, the teacher started grading while everyone else kept writing.

The classroom was quiet except for the scratching of pens and the occasional sigh. I watched Ms. Evans’ face for any sign of surprise.

A moment later, she picked up a piece of chalk and wrote two lines on the board:

[ Lucas Grant: 147 points. ]

[ Alex Harper: 147 points. ]

The room went silent. You could practically hear everyone’s brains short-circuiting.

"Ms. Evans, he must’ve copied me!"

Lucas was freaking out. "He’s terrible at math—how could he get 147?!"

He was so red-faced I thought he might explode. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.

"Quiet! The rest of the class isn’t done yet."

Ms. Evans made a "shh" gesture, then quietly added:

"I was watching the whole time. Alex never even looked up, so he couldn’t have copied."

She gave me a quick wink, like she was in on the secret. Guess I surprised her.

Lucas stared at me in disbelief.

He looked like he’d seen a ghost. I just shrugged, trying to look as smug as possible.

I crossed my legs and teased him: "Wow, the great Lucas Grant, tied with a slacker like me. Must be frustrating."

The class was eating it up, eyes glued to the board. Even Ryan couldn’t hide his grin.

Soon, time was up.

The bell rang, and everyone started shuffling their papers. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a ruler.

For those who finished early, the teacher graded the tests right away. The rest had to grade their own as the teacher went over the answers.

Ms. Evans handed back the graded tests, then pointed at me and Lucas:

"Alex did great—tied for first with Lucas. Well done!"

She gave me a look that said, "I’m watching you." I just grinned and nodded.

"Alex, could you go over this test for the class?"

Seemed like the teacher was a little suspicious of my sudden high score.

I picked up my test and walked to the podium, activating my power again.

[Ding! You and Ms. Evans are now fifty-fifty!]

A flood of mathematical knowledge poured into my brain.

It was like someone had plugged me into a math supercomputer. Every formula clicked, every trick made sense.

I tapped the whiteboard and started explaining:

"The answers to the first five multiple-choice questions are A, C, C, D, B. Question four is a common trap—here’s the key concept…"

They were hooked.

The class went nuts.

I could see phones under desks, people whispering, "Is this for real?"

Especially Ryan, whose jaw dropped so wide you could fit an orange in it.

He looked like he was watching a magic show. I almost winked at him mid-explanation.

I finished the question without a hitch, dusted the marker off my hands, and said:

"I’m done pretending. I’m a super-genius, and I’m not even gonna pretend otherwise."

The class burst out laughing. Even Ms. Evans cracked a smile.

After my math class performance, word spread like wildfire.

By the end of the day, it felt like the whole school was talking about me. I was trending—if high schools had Twitter, I’d be #MathMiracle. Not that anyone would believe it.

Three years of slacking, then a sudden rise right before the SAT—straight out of a boy’s wish-fulfillment novel.

It was like I’d stepped into one of those coming-of-age movies, except nobody yelled "Cut!"

Between classes, students from other grades crowded around our door to sneak a look at me.

Some tried to play it cool, others just stared. I tried not to let it go to my head, but come on—who wouldn’t enjoy a little fame?

I pretended to be calm and collected, going about my business like nothing had changed.

Inside, though, I was doing mental cartwheels. I could get used to this.

The attention, the whispers, the looks—I’d never felt so alive. It was like I’d finally stepped out from behind the curtain.