"Chloe, you've been cut from the Physics Olympiad team." When the academic advisor's voice came through the phone, I was in the library double-checking the final line of data for an experiment. Outside the window, the oak leaves had just turned yellow. I was only eighteen, still naive enough to believe the world operated strictly on test scores. I hung up and opened my student email. “Following a comprehensive review, it has been determined that Chloe Bennett is no longer a suitable fit for the International Physics Olympiad training camp. You are dismissed effective immediately.” Not a suitable fit. I gripped my mouse tightly. Three months ago, at the national qualifiers, I was the only student to score a perfect 100 in every single category. Theory, experimental, and the comprehensive interview. Every judge said they hadn't seen a prodigy like me in a decade. And now, suddenly, I wasn't "suitable." 1 I marched straight to the Physics Department building. "Is Professor Lee here?" I knocked on the faculty room door, my palms slick with sweat. Three professors looked up at me. I recognized one of them—Professor Davis, the assistant coach for the training team. "Ah, Chloe," Professor Davis adjusted his glasses. "Can I help you?" "I want to know why I was dismissed." I held up my phone with the email open. "I didn't receive any feedback from a review, and I have zero disciplinary infractions." "Well..." Professor Davis glanced at the other two. "It was the result of a comprehensive evaluation by the team committee." "What evaluation?" I refused to back down. "I ranked first overall in the last mock exam. My experimental error margin was the lowest on the team. The head coach told me I was the strongest contender for the gold medal." "Chloe, Olympiads aren't just about test scores." A female professor spoke up. Her voice was gentle, but her words were ice-cold. "We also look at well-roundedness, teamwork, psychological resilience..." "Which of those did I fail?" I interrupted her. "Over the past three months, I've tutored three teammates in theory. I'm always the last to leave the lab. My psychological evaluation scored an A." The office fell silent for a few seconds. Professor Davis sighed. "Chloe, this is the university's decision. We're just enforcing it." "What university? The national team selection is overseen directly by the Department of Education. The university doesn't have the authority to cut team members." "The point is, you've been cut." The female professor stood up. "Go back and study for your finals. Stop thinking about the Olympiad." I stood there, staring at them. Professor Davis looked down and shuffled some papers. The female professor sat back down and stared at her monitor. The third professor just got up and walked out. No one gave me a real answer. When I walked out of the building, the sky had turned overcast. An oak leaf drifted down, brushing past my shoulder. I unlocked my phone and opened the Olympiad team's Discord group. There were twenty-three people in the group. I was the twenty-fourth, and I had been kicked. I typed a message: "Does anyone know why I was cut?" A red exclamation mark appeared next to it. “You have been removed from this server.” I stared at the screen for ten seconds, put my phone away, and headed toward my dorm. On the way, I ran into Olivia, a teammate. When she saw me, her eyes darted away. "Olivia," I called out. She stopped, looking incredibly uncomfortable. "Oh, hey Chloe... what's up?" "I got cut from the team. Do you know why?" "I... I don't know." She picked up her pace. "I have to get to the lab." "You asked to borrow my lab notes just last week," I said. "You said I explained things better than the professors." She blushed, stammered for a bit, and finally said, "Chloe, just stop asking. It's not going to do you any good." Then she practically ran away. I watched her back and finally understood. It wasn't about my grades. It wasn't about my ability. It was about something else entirely. 2 That night, I couldn't sleep. At 2:00 AM, I got out of bed, booted up my laptop, and logged onto the national training team's official website. The roster had been updated. My name was gone. In my spot was a new name: Harper Sterling. I didn't know this person. I hadn't seen that name in the top 100 at the qualifiers. I searched her name on the site and found zero records of her participating in any prior physics competitions. Someone with absolutely zero competition history had replaced the only student with perfect scores. I took a screenshot. Then, I drafted an email to the Department of Education's Olympiad Office. I attached my transcripts, my qualifier certificates, my original acceptance letter to the training camp, and the dismissal notice I had just received. When I finally hit send, the sky was beginning to lighten. I lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling. I knew this email might just disappear into the void, but I had to send it. Just like three years ago, when I wrote down the final answer on my high school entrance physics exam—I've always believed that what's right is right, and what's wrong is wrong. Seven days later, I got a reply. Not from the Department of Education, but from the university's Dean of Students office. “Chloe Bennett, please report to the Dean of Students office tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM for a meeting.” There were three people waiting for me in the office. Dean Miller, the Dean of the Physics Department, and a middle-aged woman I had never seen before. She was wearing a tailored Chanel suit with flawless makeup. "Have a seat, Chloe." Dean Miller was a balding man who always spoke with a smile, but his eyes were entirely devoid of warmth. I sat down. "Regarding the email you sent to the Department of Education, we've seen it," Dean Miller got straight to the point. "We asked you here today to clear things up and avoid any misunderstandings." "What misunderstanding?" I asked. "Your removal from the training team was a standard roster adjustment," the Dean of Physics said. "The competition team needs to stay dynamic. Sometimes we need to inject fresh blood." "Who is Harper Sterling?" I asked. "I can't find her in any competition records." The office went quiet. The middle-aged woman spoke up. Her voice was incredibly soft and cultured. "Harper is my daughter. She was studying abroad before, so she doesn't have a domestic competition record, but she's won awards in international competitions." "What awards? Which competitions?" I pressed. "That's not important," the woman smiled. "What's important is that Harper's overall profile makes her highly suitable to represent the national team. She has a global perspective, is fluent in French and Spanish, and has excellent psychological resilience..." "So you replaced the only student with a perfect score?" I asked. "Chloe!" Dean Miller raised his voice. "Watch your tone!" "My tone?" I looked at him. "I spent three years preparing for this. Since freshman year of high school, I've woken up at 5:00 AM every day to do practice problems. I spent every winter and summer break locked in a lab. I got perfect scores across the board at the qualifiers. And now, with a single sentence, you replace me with a nepo baby with zero verifiable records, and you're telling me to watch my tone?" The office fell deathly silent. The middle-aged woman's smile vanished. "Miss Bennett," she said slowly. "I know you are very talented, but these competitions aren't just about test scores. Harper's father is Deputy Superintendent Sterling of the State Department of Education. He has always been a strong supporter of this university's STEM programs. Harper joining the training team is simply a reflection of Superintendent Sterling's trust in the university's work." I understood. I understood everything. 'Global perspective,' 'psychological resilience'—it was all bullshit. The real reason was that her dad was the Deputy Superintendent. 3 "And so?" I asked. "Because her dad is the Deputy Superintendent, I have to give up my spot for her?" "It's not giving it up; it's an adjustment," Dean Miller said smoothly. "The university will compensate you. Priority consideration for grad school recommendations, full-ride scholarships—we can arrange all of that for you." "I want my spot on the Olympiad team," I said. "That's impossible." The Dean of Physics shook his head. "The roster has already been submitted. It can't be changed." "Then I'll appeal to the Department of Education." "Chloe!" Dean Miller slammed his hand on the desk, standing up. "Don't push your luck! With one word from Superintendent Sterling, you won't just lose this competition—you might not even graduate!" I looked at them. Three adults, sitting in a comfortable, heated office, casually dictating the trajectory of my life. I thought about the day of the qualifiers. I stood at the lab station for six hours. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold my pen, but I still finished logging every single data point. The head judge told me my lab report was the most flawless he had ever seen. Now, flawless wasn't enough to beat a Deputy Superintendent. "Fine," I said. Dean Miller let out a visible sigh of relief. "I'm glad you're being reasonable." "I'm being reasonable." I stood up. "I'll step down." "That's the right attitude..." "But I'm not giving up." I looked directly at the middle-aged woman. "Tell Harper Sterling she stole my spot, but she won't be able to hold onto it. The Olympiad isn't a dinner party; it requires actual, raw capability. If she's actually a genius, I'll accept it. But if she's an empty shell, then standing on that stage will only bring her absolute humiliation." The woman's face drained of color. "What do you mean by that?" "I mean," I enunciated every word, "I'll be watching her. If she brings home a gold medal, I'll bow to her. But if she can't even pass the national finals, the one humiliated won't be me—it'll be her, and her Deputy Superintendent father." I turned and walked out. As the door clicked shut, I heard Dean Miller cursing: "Arrogant little brat! She doesn't know her place!" My place. All I knew was that what's right is right, and what's wrong is wrong. 4 News of my dismissal spread through the Physics Department like wildfire. Some pitied me, some laughed at me, but most chose to stay silent. Olivia secretly sought me out later, cornering me in a quiet section of the library. "Chloe, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I was too scared to say anything the other day... Harper's mom came to the training camp. She said if Harper didn't make the team, Superintendent Sterling would slash our department's funding." "So I was the sacrificial lamb?" I asked. "Not just you." Olivia offered a bitter smile. "The team originally had five official members. Now there are six. Harper took your spot, but of the other four, two were alternates who got bumped up. They originally didn't make the cut either." "And they just accepted it?" "What choice did they have?" Olivia said. "Dean Miller talked to them. He told them if they made a fuss, their guaranteed grad school spots would vanish." I looked at her. This girl, who had once sworn we would win gold medals together, now only had fear in her eyes. "Are you going to stay on the team?" I asked. "I..." She looked down. "My family is from a poor rural area. That guaranteed grad school spot is too important to me. Chloe, I can't afford to fight like you..." "I understand," I said. And I truly did. I wasn't naive to the ways of the world; I just refused to surrender to them. After that day, I moved out of the training team's dorms. I didn't have much. One suitcase fit everything. As I walked out of the building, Harper Sterling happened to be walking in, accompanied by her mother. They both saw me. Harper was undeniably gorgeous. She was decked out in designer clothes, holding the newest iPhone. She gave me a passing glance, her eyes flat and indifferent, like she was looking at a piece of furniture. Her mother, however, stopped and walked over to me. "Chloe." She still used that sickeningly soft tone. "Harper is officially joining the team today. You're still classmates, so I hope you can get along." "I'm no longer on the team," I said. "Well, it's the same thing," she smiled. "Oh, by the way, Dean Miller told me he approved you for the highest-tier merit scholarship as compensation. You should learn to be grateful." I didn't say a word. She kept walking, entering the building with her daughter. I stood there, watching their backs. The highest-tier scholarship. Ten thousand dollars. Ten thousand dollars to buy my spot in an international competition. To buy three years of blood, sweat, and tears. To buy the opportunity that could have changed my life. Ten thousand dollars. I dragged my suitcase toward the regular student dorms. I passed a few classmates on the way. The looks they gave me were incredibly complex. Some opened their mouths to speak, but ultimately said nothing. I knew that from today on, in their eyes, I was just a stubborn idiot who didn't know how to play the game. But so what? I got to my new dorm and unpacked my box. The first thing I saw was my thick physics notebook. From freshman year of high school until now, I had filled six of these. This was the last one, still half-empty. I opened it to the very last page. I had written one line: "Goal: International Gold Medal." I took out a pen and wrote a new line right beneath it: "Even if they block the road, I will carve my own."
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