After transferring from a small-town public school in Montana to an elite private academy on the East Coast, I accidentally took the number one spot in the senior rankings. The principal’s daughter accused me of cheating. She said a "flyover state nobody" like me didn't belong in the same zip code as her, let alone breath the same air as the school’s star athlete. "Let me tell you something, Ava Sterling," she hissed. "Ryder Black and I are endgame. A country bumpkin like you shouldn't even dream about him." I just blinked. I’d spent years living in a multi-million dollar ranch my dad built just for my recovery, inherited my mother’s genius-level IQ, and as it turns out, the "school star" is the boy I’ve been practically engaged to since we were in diapers. None of this is exactly my fault, is it? If she hates going to school with me that much, maybe I should just give her what she wants. 1 When the results of the first senior midterms were posted, the hallway at Saint Jude’s Prep exploded. "The top spot went to the transfer student? I thought for sure it would be Britney Crawford." "Unbelievable. Isn't Ava Sterling from some tiny town in the middle of nowhere? How is she this smart?" I kept my head down, focusing on my practice problems, acting like I couldn't hear the whispers. Spending my life in rural Montana hadn't made me a "hardworking farm girl," but it had given me a very chill, zen-like personality. I’d been sickly since birth. My parents had flown in every specialist in the country, but nothing worked. Finally, a spiritual advisor told them I was "carrying a storm." If I wanted to survive, I had to live away from the city’s chaos, in a place with clean air and open water, to let my body heal. He gave me a silver heirloom bracelet and said, "When this silver snaps on its own without force, the storm has passed. She can return to her true life." My parents, desperate, bought a massive ranch in a quiet Montana valley and built a sanctuary for me to live in peace. Amazingly, away from the smog and stress, I got better. And recently, the silver bracelet just... snapped. The moment they heard, my parents couldn't wait to bring me home. That’s how I ended up at this elite prep school. My mom wanted me here because my uncle is on the Board of Trustees. She figured he could look after me while she worked. My mom is a force of nature. A child prodigy who skipped four grades, the youngest postdoc in the country’s history, and currently a senior fellow at an Ivy League institution. She’s basically an academic deity. Fortunately, I got her brain. I’m not as legendary as she is, but I’m no slouch. I pick up everything instantly. So, even though my old public school didn't have much funding, I was always at the top of the charts. Even here, at a school for the one percent, these "Ivy-track" midterm questions were a walk in the park for me. But Britney Crawford wasn't buying it. She marched up to my desk, slamming her manicured hand down. "Ava Sterling, you really think you can cheat your way to the top and not get caught? It’s pathetic." I looked up, raising an eyebrow at her confidence. On my first day, my desk mate had warned me about her. Britney was the Principal’s daughter. Wealthy, "brilliant," and the undisputed queen of the grade. She was arrogant and treated everyone like they were beneath her. My desk mate told me to stay out of her way. I’m a zen person. I don't like drama. But zen doesn't mean I’m a doormat. If Britney is going to get in my face, it would be rude not to respond. I let out a soft laugh. "You saw the curve, Britney. Only one person in the entire grade broke a 1580 on the practice SATs, and I beat your score by nearly a hundred points. If I cheated, tell me—who did I copy from?" Britney stammered for a second, then hissed, "Everyone knows the proctors in the back overflow room are lazy. You obviously had your phone out!" Because I was a transfer, I didn't have a previous rank, so they sat me in the last room with the strugglers. I crossed my arms. "You sound so sure. What, were you sitting next to me watching?" "I don't need to see it!" Britney snapped. "There is no way a flyover state nobody like you could outscore me." Ah, I got it. The "perpetual number one" lost her crown and was throwing a tantrum. I leaned back in my chair. "A lot of words, Britney. Zero evidence." Even in the overflow room, there are cameras and teachers. You can't just Google the answers to a specialized physics exam. I had thirty witnesses. What did she have? 2 Britney had nothing. But she’d made a scene, and the whole class was watching. If she backed down now, she’d lose her "Queen Bee" status. She gritted her teeth. "Fine. If you’re so 'innocent,' prove it. Come to the faculty lounge. We’ll get a teacher to print a fresh set of Advanced Olympiad problems. You do them right in front of us." "Deal," I said, nodding instantly. "But on one condition. When I finish, you apologize to me in front of the entire senior class." Seeing how fast I agreed, Britney’s face paled slightly. I glanced at her. "What’s the matter? Scared?" "In your dreams!" she barked, her face turning red. "Fine. Let's go." As the principal’s daughter, the teachers did whatever she asked. Within ten minutes, they had a packet of Ivy-level competitive math and logic problems ready. During the long break, Britney brought the papers to the common area. She moved the tables, surrounding me with eight of her "guards" to watch my every move. No phones, no notes, just me and the pen. She slapped the paper in front of me. "Let’s see what you’ve got, Montana." I yawned, bored of the chatter, and started writing. By the time I finished the first page, Britney’s smug expression began to crumble. By the second page, she was biting her lip so hard it almost bled. By the third, a cold sweat had broken out on her forehead. When I set the pen down after the final question, Britney actually stumbled back. She stared at me like I was a monster. The students surrounding us started cheering. "Holy crap, Ava! You nailed those! Those are Putnam-level problems!" "Is she a human calculator?" "Britney, just admit it. Ava is the real deal." The doubts Britney had planted were gone, replaced by pure awe. I looked at her. "I finished. Your turn to keep your end of the deal." Britney stared at me, silent. The whispers started. "Why isn't she saying anything? She lost the bet." "Typical. The principal’s daughter thinks she’s above the rules." Britney’s face turned a deep, bruised purple. Finally, she choked out, "Fine! I lost. I’m sorry!" I gave a casual "Cool" and went back to my book. Britney lost it. "Don't get cocky, Ava! So you can solve some math problems. You’re still just a flyover state nerd. You’ll never have the status or the life we have here." "Right. I’m a nerd," I replied calmly. "But you live in the heart of the world’s best education system and you still got smoked by a 'flyover state nerd.' Doesn't that make you the embarrassing one?" "You—!" Britney turned a shade of green I’d never seen on a human before. She stomped her foot, turned around, and ran out of the room. I didn't care. I had more practice problems to solve. 3 After the "cheating" scandal, Britney and I were officially at war. Somehow, my reputation as a "Genius Transfer" spread. Even the freshmen and sophomores knew my name. People started coming to my desk during lunch just to "pay their respects." The teachers loved me, too. "Ava got a perfect score on the mock AP Bio." "Ava found a shortcut to the calculus proof." "Everyone should look at Ava’s essay for inspiration." They were even saying I could get into any Ivy I wanted with my eyes closed. Honestly, it was a bit much. But it was driving Britney insane, which made me feel great. Whenever she got the chance, she’d throw shade. She called me "basic," "uncultured," and "poor." I ignored her. Arguing with a narcissist is a waste of my study time. I also didn't feel like telling her that my last name is Sterling—as in William Sterling, the guy who owns half the tech infrastructure in this country. Two weeks passed. I was coming back from lunch when I heard a group of girls gossiping in the lounge. "Did you hear? Ryder Black is coming back today." "Oh god, finally. The school has been so boring without him." I perked up. Ryder Black. My age. My "childhood friend," if you want to be technical. Our moms were best friends. When they were both pregnant, they made a joke about us getting married one day. Every summer, he’d fly out to my ranch in Montana. Ryder was a spoiled brat growing up—a total terror to everyone else, but he always behaved for me. He’d gone behind his parents’ back to join a pro-esports team, and he actually became a legend. Last year, his team won the World Championship. He was the MVP, the "golden boy" of the gaming world. He’d been missing school to compete in Europe. Last time we talked, he said he wouldn't be back until after finals. I guess he finished early. "Look at Britney," one girl whispered. "She’s glowing." "Well, her 'God' is coming back. Of course she’s happy." I looked over. Britney was holding a compact mirror, fixing her hair, looking like a shy, blooming flower. It was the polar opposite of the mean girl she usually was. I felt a shiver of pure cringe. No way. Ryder is Britney’s "God"? This is going to be hilarious. Britney already hates me. If she finds out Ryder is my "family-arranged" fiancé, she might actually explode. I almost felt bad for her. Almost. 4 The day Ryder returned, he was trending on Twitter for his championship win. The whole school went into a frenzy. A crowd gathered at the front gates. People from the upper floors were hanging out the windows, trying to get a glimpse of him. The teachers tried to stop them, but eventually, they just gave up. Girls were screaming, "Ryder, I love you!" I walked past on my way to the library, looking completely bored. A guy standing next to me suddenly yelled, "Ryder, marry me!" I stopped. Okay, I was impressed. The esports fandom is truly built different. My desk mate saw me and pulled me over. "Ava, come here! I saved you a spot at the front!" Britney was nearby, sneering at me. "I thought you were too 'zen' for this, Ava. Yet here you are, thirsty for Ryder like everyone else." I glanced at her. "Your Ryder?" Britney lifted her chin. "Damn right. Ryder and I are meant to be. Don't even think about trying your 'smart girl' act on him. He likes girls with class." She laughed dismissively. "Not that he’d ever notice a country bumpkin like you anyway." I shrugged. "Whatever you say, Britney." I was curious to see who he’d notice. Arguing with her was like trying to teach a brick wall to read. "He’s here!" someone yelled. A black SUV pulled up to the curb. Ryder stepped out, still wearing his blue and white team jersey. He moved with that effortless, wealthy confidence. Messy black hair, clear eyes, and that "golden boy" energy. My verdict: He’d definitely gotten hotter since the summer. Ryder stood by the car, scanning the crowd. The moment his eyes landed on me, he broke into a massive, toothy grin and waved. I gave him a small, polite smile back. The girls around me started losing it. "Did Ryder just wave at Britney? He smiled at her!" "Wait, are they official now?" "Britney’s been chasing him since freshman year. He finally gave in?" I looked at Britney. She was blushing, covering her face with her hands, making a big show of being "modest." "Oh, Ryder," she giggled in a high-pitched voice. "I told him not to be so public about it!" I had so many questions. This girl was a professional at self-delusion. The bell rang, and the crowd dispersed. Ryder was in the class next to mine. To get to his room, he had to walk past my window. Half my class was leaning toward the glass, hearts practically fluttering as they waited for him to pass. I stayed in my seat, taking notes. Go ahead, I thought. Stare all you want. I’m going to out-study all of you. A whistle sounded from the window. I looked up. Ryder was standing there, flashing his white teeth at me. Then he saw the teacher’s glare, shrugged, and jogged away. "Ooooh!" the class started murmuring. Everyone was looking at... Britney, who sat behind me. Britney was bright red, hiding her face on her desk, grinning like an idiot. They really thought he was flirting with her. And Britney was 100% convinced of it. God, this was a mess. The next period was with the Dean of Students. She adjusted her glasses and looked at us sternly. "You are here to study. If I catch any of you in a 'distraction,' I don't care who your parents are. There will be consequences." I nodded in agreement. My thing with Ryder wasn't a "distraction." Even though we were "engaged" by family tradition, our parents had an agreement: No dating until we were out of school. Focus on the future first. So, the only person about to get hurt here was Britney. She looked like she was on the verge of happy tears. After class, the teacher kept us for five extra minutes. The second she left, Ryder was at our door. Before I could move, Britney shot out of her seat like a coiled spring and ran to him. Even Ryder looked startled. Britney tried to grab his arm, but he flinched back, looking genuinely confused. "Uh, do I know you?" 5 Ryder’s voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough for the front half of the class to hear. The silence was deafening. "Wait, what? He's not here for Britney?" "I thought they were a thing!" "Then what was she doing just now?" "Yikes. That’s embarrassing." Britney looked like she’d just swallowed a fly. She grit her teeth, her voice trembling. "Didn't you just wave at me? You were smiling at me at the gate!" Ryder frowned. "I was waving at Ava Sterling. When was I smiling at you?" The gossip mill shifted into high gear. "Did I miss a chapter? When did Ryder and Ava meet?" "He just got back, she just moved here... wait, did they know each other before?" "But Ava’s from a ranch in Montana, right?" Britney turned around and glared at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. I kept my face neutral. Totally innocent. Ryder, still oblivious to the social hierarchy he’d just nuked, waved me over. I sighed. Under Britney’s death-stare, I walked out of the classroom. If looks could kill, I’d be on my 99th reincarnation by now. Ryder pulled me aside. "Is that girl okay? Does she have some kind of... condition?" I looked at him, half-smirking. "I heard she’s been 'in love' with you for years. You really didn't notice?" Ryder looked genuinely baffled. "Ava, girls are always 'in love' with me. If I cared about every single one, I’d be exhausted." I laughed. "Fair point." Suddenly, Ryder reached behind his back like a magician and pulled out a small, elegant box. He held it out to me with both hands. "Here. For you." "What is it?" I opened it. Inside was his gold MVP medal from the world championship. I looked up in shock. Ryder grinned. "Success is only fun if you share it with the person who matters." I was stunned. "But... I didn't get you a 'welcome back' gift." He patted my head. "Seeing you the second I got back is the only gift I wanted." I finally understood. That’s why he flew back from Europe so fast. He came back for me. The bell rang. Ryder walked me back to my door. As I walked in, I heard him laugh behind me. "You grew, Ava." I turned back. Ryder was leaning against the wall, winking at me in the sunlight. He looked soft. Gentle. The second class ended, a mob surrounded my desk. Everyone wanted to know the deal between me and Ryder. Even my desk mate asked, "Ava, seriously, are you guys dating?" I looked her in the eye and said, "I promise you, we are not 'dating' in high school." Whether she believed me or not was her problem. When the rumors were about Britney and Ryder, the other girls stayed quiet. But now that it was the "Montana nobody," the jealousy was coming out in full force. "Why even ask? She’s obviously not his type. She’s not in his league." "Exactly. So she’s smart. She’s still just a bookworm. A girl like that will never have the family background to match a guy like Ryder." "And honestly, she’s not even that pretty. Just average." Salty. So salty. Most of the class had been neutral during my first spat with Britney. But seeing me "close" to Ryder pushed them into Britney’s camp. Britney made sure to announce to the room: "Don't think catching Ryder’s attention for five minutes makes you special, Ava. You’re still a flyover state loser. I’m going to make sure everyone knows you don't belong at Saint Jude’s." 6 I didn't care. I focused on my SAT prep. But some people don't let you stay zen. With the School Anniversary coming up, everyone was talking about the gala. Seniors aren't usually supposed to participate in the performances, but because our grade had record-breaking test scores, the Dean gave us a "night off" to celebrate. They even set aside slots for senior speeches and performances. And that’s how I found out—without my knowledge—that I had been signed up for a solo vocal performance. The song: Starlight. If the homeroom teacher hadn't mentioned it during announcements, I never would have known. It didn't take a genius to figure out Britney was behind it. Her best friend is the Class President, who was in charge of the sign-up sheet. I’d been set up. The whole class was looking at me with weird expressions. "Isn't Starlight the lead single from Logan Sterling’s new album?" "Yeah. It’s got those insane high notes and runs. Nobody dares to cover it." "Covering that song is a death sentence. Even pros struggle with it. Why is Ava trying to sing it? Is she crazy?" "Wait, I heard rumors that Saint Jude’s invited Logan Sterling himself to headline the gala. If he sings Starlight and then Ava sings it... isn't that just a public execution?" "Is he really coming? I didn't see it on his official tour dates." "My dad is on the board. It’s a private 'alumni' visit. It’s 100% happening." The conversation shifted from me to the mega-star Logan Sterling. I sat there, listening to the gossip, and blinked. Wait. My brother is coming to my school? Why didn't he tell me? Yes, the superstar Logan Sterling is my big brother. He debuted at twenty on a reality show and became an overnight sensation because of his looks, his voice, and his songwriting. Within six months, he was a global icon. But he’s private. He doesn't do many interviews. He only shows up for major awards or charity. The fact that he’d come back to his old prep school for a small gig was a huge deal. While the girls were screaming about Logan, I stood up and walked over to the Class President and Britney. "Take my name off the list." I was brief. I didn't have time for their games. The Class President looked away guiltily. "The list is already submitted to the Dean. If you want to cancel, tell her yourself." I expected this, but I still frowned. "You signed me up without asking. Why is it my job to fix your 'mistake'?" Britney didn't look guilty at all. She looked triumphant. "What? I thought you liked the spotlight. This is your chance to shine. You should be thanking us." With Britney backing her, the President got bold. "Exactly. You’re basically performing on the same stage as Logan Sterling. People would kill for that. Stop acting like a victim and enjoy the opportunity." I almost laughed. Performing with Logan Sterling? I’ve heard that guy sing in the shower. I’ve heard every draft of every song he’s ever written. I am his first audience for everything. I really didn't need the "opportunity."
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