THE VALEDICTORIAN WARS

CHAPTER FOUR — THE CHALLENGE

By the next morning, I'd convinced myself the message meant nothing.

People loved gossip at Westbridge.

Maybe someone was trying to scare me.

Maybe it was a prank.

Or maybe

No.

I wasn't going to let some anonymous message distract me.

Especially not when Ethan was standing at the front of the classroom, presenting our academic leadership project as if we'd been working together for years.

“We've divided the project into three sections,” he explained.

I raised my hand.

He looked directly at me.

“Yes, Daisy?”

“You forgot the research component.”

“I didn't forget it.”

“It's not on the schedule.”

“Because I planned to discuss it with you afterward.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew you'd complain.”

The class laughed.

I narrowed my eyes.

“I don't complain.”

Ethan smiled.

“You absolutely do.”

Mrs. Bennett cleared her throat.

“Both of you.”

We immediately became quiet.

After class, I caught up with him.

“You can't just make decisions without me.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because you were going to overcomplicate everything.”

I stopped walking.

“Overcomplicate?”

He turned.

“Yes.”

“You've known me for four years, and you still don't know when to stop talking.”

“Actually, I know exactly when to stop.”

“When?”

“When you admit I'm right.”

I stared at him.

He smiled.

“See you at six.”

I watched him walk away.

I hated him.

I really did.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself.

At six that evening, I arrived at the library.

Ethan was already there.

Of course.

His laptop was open, books were spread across the table, and he had somehow claimed our usual corner before I arrived.

“You're late.”

I checked the clock.

“I'm three minutes early.”

“Exactly. I expected you five minutes ago.”

“You're unbelievable.”

He pushed a chair toward me.

“Sit.”

I sat.

For the next hour, we worked.

And annoyingly, it went well.

Very well.

Our ideas fit together perfectly. Where I was too detailed, Ethan simplified things. Where he rushed, I caught mistakes.

We barely argued.

That was almost worse.

At seven-thirty, he closed his laptop.

“We're good.”

I looked over our work.

“We are.”

He smiled.

“See? We're a great team.”

“Don't get carried away.”

“Too late.”

I packed my things.

“Same time tomorrow?”

He nodded.

“Definitely.”

I stood.

Then he said, “Unless you want to make things interesting.”

I turned.

“What do you mean?”

He leaned back in his chair.

“Let's make a bet.”

“A bet?”

“Whoever gets the highest score on our first major assessment gets to choose how we present the project.”

I considered it.

“What does the loser get?”

“Nothing.”

“That's a terrible bet.”

He thought for a moment.

“Loser has to admit the winner is smarter.”

I laughed.

“You're scared I'll win.”

“I'm giving you motivation.”

“You're giving yourself false confidence.”

His smile widened.

“So that's a yes?”

I held out my hand.

“Deal.”

He shook it.

His grip was firm, and for one strange second, neither of us spoke.

Then I pulled my hand away.

“Prepare to lose, Cole.”

“Prepare to finally accept defeat, Hart.”

I walked out of the library smiling.

I shouldn't have been.

But I was.

The next morning, the results of our first assessment were posted.

A crowd had already gathered around the noticeboard.

I pushed through.

My eyes moved down the list.

Then stopped.

1. Ethan Cole — 100%

My heart sank.

I looked lower.

2. Daisy Hart — 98%.

Someone behind me whispered, “Oh, this is bad.”

I stared at Ethan's name.

For the first time in four years, I wasn't number one.

And Ethan was waiting beside the noticeboard.

Smiling.