“Zhao, it must be exhausting lugging around all that pride in your oversized head,” I say sweetly.”
Why don’t you invent something useful like a product for people with abnormally large, inflated, egotistical heads? That way you could finally contribute something original.”
I start to turn when his voice stops me.
“Can you even afford the application fee?”
My head snaps back, and he’s grinning with all thirty-two teeth on display. My jaw tightens, fists clenching. I can take his jabs at my intelligence, but this? This is where I draw the line.
“You are-“
“Listen, dipshit.” Allie barges in, nearly poking him in the eye with her finger. Her voice rings down the hall, earning a few stares. “When my best friend wins this thing, I’ll personally remind you of this moment. And mark my words, you overcooked potato, she will win. You don’t stand a chance.”
Before I can even process, she grabs my arm and drags me out into the hallway. I stumble after her, still gaping, as she whirls around like she’s hoping her glare will actually light Zhao Lan on fire.
I bite back a laugh. “You didn’t have to go nuclear on him. You know that’s just… him.”
“Ugh.” She shakes her arms. “He makes my skin crawl with every word that comes out of his mouth.”
“Just forget about him,” I tell her. “He’s lucky I might not even enter for the grant.”
Allie stops dead in the middle of the hallway, her eyes wide like I’ve just told her I’m dropping out.” Excuse me, what?”
“Realistically…” I lick my lips, lowering my voice as a group of students brush past us, “this is impossible for someone like me. It takes at least ten grand to make a working prototype and file a patent. The application fee is already insane. How am I supposed to swing all that?”
“I’ll pay for it,” Allie blurts out.
I gasp, then grab her wrist without thinking. “Are you crazy?”
“You mean, am I serious?” She sticks her bottom lip out in a mock pout. “Or aren’t you about to say I’m the best best friend in the world? That’s what you meant, right?”
I draw back, searching her face. “What about you? Don’t you want to enter?”
“Please.” She waves her hand, rolling her eyes dramatically. “We both know I’m not winning this thing. You’re the genius. I’m the hype squad. Helping you win is my own way of winning.”
My mouth just hangs open for a second. I can’t believe she’d actually do this for me and at the same time, I’m stupidly touched. Before I even think about it, I grab her and hug her tight.
“Thank you,” I whisper into her hair. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Don’t you dare cry,” she says, pulling back and mock glaring at me. “Or lose. If you lose, you’re doing the dishes till we graduate. I’m talking all the dishes, even the ones from the nasty Tupperware I keep under my bed.”
I choke out a laugh, wiping at the corner of my eyes. “You’re not even a real human, Allie.”
“I’m dead serious,” she says, looping her arm through mine and dragging me toward our next class.
“Now come on, before Professor Larkin locks the door again.”
“We should decide who’ll be first speaker,” Lucy, our debate president, says, tapping her pen on the desk. “Boston wiped our asses last time, and I will not be happy if that happens again.”
“That was only because Katy was sick and didn’t show up with us,” Jackson mutters, leaning back in his chair, and looking bored. “We never lose when she’s with us.’
I bite back a smile. Honestly, I’m not usually one to soak up compliments and I think constantly boasting about yourself is lame but sometimes… sometimes it feels good to be acknowledged.
And let’s be real: I haven’t lost a single debate since freshman year. That’s a lot of victories to my name.
Lucy clears her throat. “Okay, let’s do this. Ngozi also wants first speaker, so we’ll do a quick three-minute roundoff between them.”
I nod and glance at Ngozi. She’s sitting there, all calm and perfectly put together like she’s stepping onto a TED Talk stage instead of a cramped debate room.
Ugh. Typical. I already know she’s going to give it her all, even if it’s just three minutes, and probably make it look effortless.
Lucy flips through her book for debate topics, muttering under her breath, and then perks up.
“Pro-choice vs. Pro-life: should abortion be a woman’s choice or morally impermissible?” she reads, loud enough for the whole room to groan or cheer. “Now, let’s pick papers.”
Ngozi stands immediately, polished as ever, and I follow, dragging my chair back. Lucy scribbles on two slips of paper and folds them.
My stomach does a little flip and I whisper please, please let me get Pro-choice, I mean, duh. It’s not just about winning; it’s about principle. A woman should get to make her own decisions about her body, and if I can sneak in a killer argument to back that up, I will.
After folding the papers, Lucy gestures for us to pick. Ngozi grabs one first and I follow.
I unfold mine, and immediately a groan escapes me. Pro-life. Great. Just what I needed.
Ngozi shoots me a victorious look, her eyebrows raising slightly. Of course she’s thrilled.
In debate, the topic itself is a weapon, and she’s already scoring points before we even speak. For a female dominated society, I’ve lost aura already by going against Pro-choice.
“You both have five minutes to prep,” Lucy announces. I immediately pull up my laptop and start digging online, scribbling notes, scanning every argument I can find. Five minutes fly by faster than I expected, and before I know it, it’s time.
Ngozi steps up first, confidently planting herself in front of the crowd. Normally, we have about forty people in the debate society, but even during practice, other students love to hang back and watch. They’re all murmuring and leaning forward, curious to see how this will go.
She begins speaking, and naturally, she’s good. Her points are great, and her delivery is better. I watch her, second-guessing if I’m even ready to be first speaker this time. When her three minutes are up, she concludes with a confident smile and steps away.
Now it’s my turn. I stand tall, moving to the center of the room.
“Pro-choice? What does it really mean?” I start, letting my voice rise. “To some…”
The door swings open and my words catch in my throat.
He’s here. My heart jumps and my eyes widen before I force myself to focus again. I should be speaking, not staring.
“It means…” I stammer, trying to get my words out and my hands grip the podium for support.
Gracefully, Braydon slips into the room, and makes his way to one of the rows at the back. He settles in and when his eyes lock with mine, my stomach does a somersault.
I force myself to ignore the flutter, refusing to let it derail me. I push through my points, finish my argument, and step down once my time is up.
Sliding back into my seat, I can already hear the whispers.
“Is that Braydon?”
“Wow, he’s actually here.”
Everyone seems surprised, but honestly, I’m the one who feels blindsided. He didn’t text, didn’t mention dropping by for practice and of course, he chose the exact moment I’m supposed to be speaking.
I check my phone anyway, just to make sure I didn’t miss some text. But nothing. I swallow, and face Lucy, waiting for her verdict but she’s frozen. Her eyes are glued to something or someone at the back of the room. Following her gaze, I blink. Braydon.
Really? Why does he make people completely lose their composure just by existing in the same space?
Lucy, who’s usually composed is now staring like she just saw a celebrity crash our debate. I can practically read her thoughts from her face and none of them have anything to do with him actually wearing clothes.
I sink lower in my chair, exhaling quietly. Fine, she can take her time. With my stammering earlier, I’m not even sure I’m in the running for first speaker anymore.
Lucy finally snaps out of her little trance and flushes, clearing her throat. “Okay… let’s go with Ngozi as first speaker and Katy as second,” she says. I exhale loudly. Screw Braydon. “Ngozi really wants it. But if we lose against Boston again, Katy’s stuck as first speaker forever.”
I give her a small smile, nodding at Ngozi and silently accepting defeat for the moment.
For the next hour, we’re buried in prep: debates, possible rebuttals, and strategies for Boston.
Our little study room is buzzing with chatter, laptops open, and papers scattered everywhere. I try not to look at Braydon the entire time and happily, I succeed. By six, the meeting’s over. I start packing my bag when Lucy drifts over.
“He’s here for you, right?” She asks, tilting her jaw toward Braydon.
KATY’S POV
I turn slowly, trying to act casual, and glance at Braydon. He’s buried in his phone but around him, a small crowd of girls are openly staring, whispering, giggling, and trying way too hard to get his attention. I roll my eyes.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.