I am the hopeless Third Place. Every major exam, every ranking list—always stuck at number three. That is, until the day the results for the National Math Olympiad came out, and I suddenly saw the comments floating in the air. [OMG, the male lead totally tanked his score on purpose! He couldn't bear to see Mia get punished.] [The heroine, Mia, purposely got the last question wrong too! The power couple is letting each other win. I am sobbing, I ship them so hard!] [They made a bet that whoever got second place had to run ten laps around the track, but they both tried to throw the game. Too bad they threw it too hard, and some NPC snatched first place.] [What’s her name? Zoe Reynolds?] Hearing my name, my heart hammered against my ribs. I am Zoe Reynolds. And it looked like my days of being the eternal bronze medalist were finally over. 1 In AP Calc, Mr. Harrison put a brutal problem on the board. I chewed on the end of my pen for ten minutes, calculating furiously, before accepting that this beast was outside my pay grade. I turned to the desk behind me. The resident genius. "Jace? Could you explain how to solve this? I’m stuck." Jace Sterling was usually cold, the type who treated words like a limited currency. He rarely helped anyone. But this time, he glanced almost imperceptibly toward a certain seat in the front row, paused, and then set down his pen. His voice was cool, detached. "Sure." He was concise. In three sentences, he untangled the knot in my brain. A true academic weapon. I looked at him with genuine admiration, completely missing the glare burning a hole in the back of my head. After the bell rang, I pulled out a tin of imported Danish butter cookies—my stash—to thank him. "Thanks for the help, Jace. Here." I extended my hand. Clang. Before I could blink, the tin was slapped out of my hand. It hit the linoleum, cookies shattering into buttery dust. Mia Jenkins stood there, covering her mouth in mock surprise. "Oh my god, I’m so sorry! It was an accident. I’ll buy you a new one, okay?" "No, it's—" Before I could finish saying it’s fine, she cut in, her voice dripping with fake concern. "Besides, Jace doesn't eat cookies. He's gluten-intolerant. Didn't you know?" I froze. I didn't know that. Gluten-intolerant? But every time he came over to my place to drop off packages for his mom, he inhaled my Nana’s homemade apple pie. He’d eat three slices in one sitting. Before I could process the lie, Mia stepped over the mess she made, chin high, and marched up to Jace. She slapped a notebook onto his desk with the arrogance of a queen. "Hey, Ice Prince." "Since you love helping people so much, explain this one to me, too." Her voice was bright, bratty, and demanding. Jace, who usually froze people out for breathing too loud, didn't get mad. Instead, the corner of his mouth ticked up. A smile so faint it was barely there, but his eyes? They were soft. He tapped the empty desk next to him with his pen. "Sit." Smart, pretty girls get different rules. Without being asked, Jace’s lab partner scrambled out of his seat, winking as he left. "So, the derivative of this function..." Mia crossed her arms, pouting. "You think I'm dumb like the rest of them? I actually solved it ages ago. I have a different method. But if you call me a genius, I might deign to share it with you." Social cues dictated I should leave. But they were discussing a new method for the problem. I stood there, listening, my brain lighting up. Wait, if you drop an auxiliary line between point A and E... I tried to chime in. "Actually, if you—" Ignored. I tried again. "What if we—" Nothing. It was like a force field surrounded them. I didn't want to give up. A good scholar shares knowledge, right? If we pooled our brains, we could crack this three different ways. Just as I prepared to physically insert myself into the conversation, text started scrolling across my vision like a Twitch chat. [Jace is so sneaky. He helped that random girl just to make his wifey jealous.] [That girl asking for help is such a Pick-Me. Thank god Mia came in to mark her territory.] [Our Mia is a genius! Look at that Pick-Me trying to join the conversation and getting ignored. LOL.] [High IQ couple goals! I live for this academic rivals-to-lovers dynamic!] I frowned. Pick-Me? Who? Me? 2 It took me half a day of reading the floating text to figure it out. I was living inside a YA romance novel. Jace and Mia were the main characters. Jace was the textbook tortured hero: abusive dad, bedridden mom, little sister, brooding soul. Mia was the rich heiress destined to "save" him. At school, they were academic rivals. In private, they were apparently sucking face behind the bleachers. This should have had nothing to do with me. According to the chat, I was "NPC A." A background character. But... I looked at the two of them, shoulders touching, and then at the comments screaming OMG SO CUTE. I furrowed my brow. How did I become the "Pick-Me"? I’m ranked third in the entire grade. I work my tail off. Why am I the villain just because I'm not them? Just because they hold the top two spots, does that make me a joke? And honestly, did they think Jace was some kind of prize? I bent down, cleaned up the crumbled cookies, and quietly swiped the scratch paper off Jace’s desk. Since they were geniuses, they didn't need his notes. I handed the paper to my best friend, Chloe. She squealed and hugged me. "Zoe! You’re a wizard! How did you figure this out? I’ve been staring at this problem for an hour. You’re the GOAT!" I preened a little. "It’s nothing. Just math." A crowd gathered around Chloe’s desk to see the solution. "Reynolds is a beast. Top three for a reason." "Unlike some people who just brag." "Seriously, Zoe, have you considered giving Einstein a run for his money?" I was laughing with them when I felt a cold stare. I turned. Mia was looking at me. Her expression was a mix of disgust, arrogance, and dismissal. She mouthed something at me. Don't even try to compete. You can't win. The chat exploded. [YAS QUEEN! Mia declaring war on the evil NPC!] [Put her in her place!] [I love a strong female lead! I hate these side characters who think the hero likes them just because he explained one problem. Sit down, honey!] Me: ? Literally, what did I do to you people? 3 From then on, every time I got within ten feet of Jace, the chat would appear. And Mia would swoop in like a hawk, staring me down with her big doe eyes as if I were about to trip and fall onto her precious boyfriend's lips. Even though I did nothing. I took a deep breath. I tried to ignore the floating text. I tried to ignore Mia’s radar. I even quit our three-person study group. Last semester, Mia had approached me with a sweet smile. "Math Olympiad is coming up. Let's form a study group!" I agreed. I even shared my "Holy Grail" binder—a collection of the hardest contest problems from the last ten years that I’d spent months compiling. I gave a copy to Jace, too. Scholars compete, sure, but I believed in rising tides lifting all boats. Apparently, that philosophy wasn't mutual. I found out later they threw my binder in the trash. Mia’s high-priced private tutor had sneered at it. "Why waste time on problems from random state competitions? Stick to the Ivy League prep books." The chat revealed the truth: The study group was just a cover so they could hang out at the library on weekends without their parents getting suspicious. I was the chaperone. The beard. While I was passionately explaining geometry proofs, they were holding hands under the table. I thought Mia’s flushed cheeks were from the library’s heating system. Nope. I was just part of their foreplay. Kermit sipping tea.jpg Gross. They didn't know how valuable my binder was. I didn't bother explaining. If they wanted to toss it, that was their loss. I kept my head down and grinded. The chat, however, knew the truth. [Stupid girl! That binder had legit questions from every state final! You can't even find those online!] [Jace threw his copy out too. He has to show loyalty to his wifey. A true male lead doesn't accept gifts from other girls.] [NOOOO! There was a question in there that's exactly like the one on this year's Olympiad!] Wait. Exactly like the one on the Olympiad? My eyes lit up. For the first time, I was grateful for the hallucinations. The binder was 180 pages. To finish it before the competition, I needed to do twenty pages a day. Forty problems. Let's go. One afternoon, Mia breezed past my desk, smelling like Chanel No. 5. She saw me chewing on my pen, wrestling with a complex function. She smirked—a little curve of triumph mixed with pity. "Zoe, aren't those questions a little... advanced? Above our syllabus?" I didn't look up. "Just practicing." "I just mean... if you don't have the aptitude, don't force it. Those problems aren't meant for you." She paused, widening her eyes innocently. "Don't overthink it, though. I'm just looking out for you. You're not mad, are you?" The malice was palpable. I didn't get it. All I did was ask Jace for help once. I don't usually curse. But I don't let people walk all over me, either. I looked her dead in the eye. "None of your damn business." The class went silent. Mia, who had clearly never been told 'no' in her life, turned bright red. She glared at me, eyes watering, and ran out of the room like a victim in a soap opera. The chat went nuclear. They called me every name in the book. Jace, who missed the interaction but saw the aftermath, marched over to my desk. The temperature in the room dropped. "Did you make her cry?" I looked up at him. "And?" I knew explaining was useless. To these two, reality was whatever they decided it was. Jace looked taken aback by my lack of defense. He squinted at me, analyzing. Then, with maximum arrogance, he said, "No matter what you do to get my attention, I won't like you. I only love Mia." I stared at him. It was so absurd I almost laughed. I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. "You're delusional." What is his problem? We've been neighbors for years. He acts like I've been harboring a secret crush since kindergarten. Is narcissism a requirement for male leads? 5 I ignored them. I focused on the grind. The competition was held in D.C., a few hours away. It was my first time traveling without family. Nana was worried I’d get carsick, so she packed a bag of tangerines for me. On the bus, a classmate turned green. I pulled a tangerine from my reusable 'Shop-Rite' bag. "Here. The citrus smell helps." "Oh my god, Zoe, you're a lifesaver." Mia was sitting two rows ahead, wearing a floral dress that probably cost more than my rent. She craned her neck like a swan. She spoke loudly enough for me to hear. "Ugh. The air in here smells like poverty." She leaned onto Jace’s shoulder. Jace looked at her with a gentle expression I’d never seen at school. "Sorry, princess. Just endure it a little longer. Some people have no public decency." I rolled my eyes again. Helping a sick kid is lacking decency? And what was Mia so proud of? The guy next to her was poorer than I was. I just wanted to get off the bus. When we arrived, I walked past them. Mia practically shouted: "Ice block, don't look at her!" "Is she prettier than me? Is she? If you look at her again, I'll gouge your eyes out so you can only look at me!" The chat laughed. [Hahaha, possessive Mia is so cute!] [The wifey is jealous! The cool guy melts for her.] [Does this Pick-Me have no shame? Always trying to insert herself.] I snapped. I stopped and turned around. "If you spent half as much time studying as you do inventing drama, maybe you wouldn't embarrass yourself on the test." I knew their "elite" tutor was a fraud who fed them flashy, impractical problems. I didn't wait for their reaction. I walked into the exam hall. When the test landed on my desk, my heart soared. I recognized the patterns. I’d solved variations of these problems dozens of times. I had this in the bag. Ivy League application, here I come. I didn't know then that Jace and Mia were about to pull their biggest stunt yet.
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