I was a complete try-hard, but my entire brand was “effortless perfection.” Ever since I was little, I was absolutely determined to take the number one spot in everything. Watching the awe and admiration in other people's eyes as they looked at me like a genius gave me a thrill so intense it made my scalp tingle. That was, until high school, when I became the perpetual second place. Later, the guy in first place and the girl in third place started dating. When the results for another mock exam came out, I heard someone in the hallway laughing: "Why is Riley always stuck between those two lovebirds like a giant third wheel? Hahaha..." Walking past an empty classroom, I heard the valedictorian tutoring his girlfriend: "Baby, if you score a few more points next time, our names can be right next to each other on the honor roll." "..." I completely snapped. You want your names next to each other, right? Fine. I'll take first place and grant your wish! 1 I've been fiercely competitive since I was a kid. From the moment I became the fastest in my kindergarten class to master basic arithmetic, earning praise from the teachers and envy from my classmates, my life's trajectory was set. My vanity swelled as I grew older. Before high school, I practically monopolized the number one spot in my grade. Basking in the reverent gazes of my peers, I felt an intoxicating rush. The joy of a perfectionist pretending to be effortless is just that superficial. For high school, I tested into the elite St. Jude’s Academy with the highest score in the city. But of all places, this was where I met Tristan Hayes. For the entirety of freshman and sophomore year, I never beat him. Not even once! I, someone who lived and breathed to show off, was firmly nailed to the humiliating post of "perpetual second place." The teachers would always console me: "Riley, you're already outstanding. You just lack a tiny bit of luck. Just be more careful next time." But I'd hear them discussing in the faculty lounge: "Tristan's brain just works on another level. His logic is so mature. I heard he used to do college-level math competitions..." Even when classmates came to ask me questions, they always had to throw in a "high-EQ" backhanded compliment that pierced my heart: "Riley, being able to hold down second place is insane! You're the only person in our grade who can even compete with Tristan." Tristan. I maintained my polite, breezy smile: "What can I say? I'm just not as skilled." Inside, I was screaming and dying of rage. As soon as the classmate left, my desk-mate, Chloe, leaned in mysteriously. "Riley, I've got some gossip." "Hmm?" My eyes stayed on my textbook, but my ears perked up. "Tristan is dating." What does that have to do with me? "Guess who he's dating?" I finally shifted my gaze from the worksheet to look at her. "Who?" "Serena Blake," Chloe whispered. "Who?" Chloe: "..." She rolled her eyes at me. "My dear Queen Riley, if someone scores lower than you, do they just not exist in your eyes?" "Her class rank is right behind you and Tristan." Thanks to Chloe, I got a crash course on this academic romance. Tristan and Serena were in the class next door. Serena used to rank in the top twenty, but this semester, her grades skyrocketed. "I heard they stay after school every day to do practice tests together. The valedictorian is personally tutoring her. No wonder she improved so fast. He's a gold-medal tutor," Chloe sighed. I finally remembered who Serena was. Actually, after every exam, I always checked the names of the people ranked right behind me. Serena had long, dark hair, big round eyes, and curled eyelashes. She was very cute. "You don't have any thoughts on this?" Chloe poked me, whispering. "The teachers definitely know, but since it's Tristan, they just turn a blind eye." "No, why would I care?" I smiled. Date, date, date away! I hope you both get distracted and drop to the bottom of the class! I thought viciously. Right before the end of our sophomore year, the final honor roll was posted. I stood near the back of the crowd, but the rankings were crystal clear. Second place again. I was so mad I planned to go home and eat two massive bowls of rice to vent my frustration. But before I could even finish being angry, I heard someone in front of me joking: "Why is Riley always stuck between those two lovebirds like a giant third wheel? Hahaha..." "Our graduating class really hit the jackpot with these two freaks. The first and second place have never changed hands. But I bet Serena has a chance to overtake Riley next time. She was only six points behind her this round." "..." That wasn't all. After school, I realized I forgot my house keys and went back to grab them. Passing the classroom next door, I happened to see Tristan tutoring Serena. They were the only two left in the room. They were sitting by the window. Tristan's voice drifted out: "Baby, if you score a few more points next time, our names can be right next to each other on the honor roll." "..." Being the eternal runner-up was miserable enough. But instead of people hoping I'd pull Tristan off his throne, there were actually people hoping someone else would pull me off mine? I let out a dark chuckle. I was fully in my villain era now. You two want your names next to each other, right? Fine. I'll take first place and grant your wish! 2 At dinner, my parents, accustomed to my second-place finishes, praised me as usual: "Second place is amazing! Your mom and I never scored this high when we were in school. Don't put too much pressure on yourself." How could I not? I absolutely had to get first place. But at my level, hiring those expensive, gold-star private tutors wouldn't do much good. Suddenly, a car pulled into the driveway next door. My mom mentioned casually, "Ethan is back for the summer. Do you want me to go over and ask him for his old study materials?" Ethan Sterling. He was two years older than me. During his senior year, he swept the state academic decathlons and secured early admission to an Ivy League university. When he got in, let alone our school, even our neighborhood threw a block party. For a while, he was the absolute star of the town. Before I could speak, my dad said, "Ethan is a competition genius. His materials probably aren't suitable for our girl's standard curriculum, right?" The moment my dad said that, a lightbulb went off in my head. I jumped up from my chair. "Why are you acting so frantic?" My mom was startled. I sat back down, shoveled the rest of my food into my mouth at lightning speed, put down my fork, and announced, "I'm going to ask Ethan for his study materials." The gate to the Sterlings' yard was open. I walked right in, greeted Mr. and Mrs. Sterling on the first floor, and sprinted straight to the second floor. Ethan, wearing a white tee and baggy jeans, was slouching on the upstairs sofa playing a game on his phone. The lights were dim, and the glow of the screen illuminated his flawlessly sculpted profile. Honestly, I didn't like Ethan. From the first time I met him when I was ten, listening to our parents exchange parenting tips, I knew immediately—this guy was also a massive "try-hard." And try-hards never like people who are better at faking it than they are. Sure enough, all these years had only proven my initial impression right. He raised an eyebrow when he saw me. "Well, if it isn't little Riley..." Before he could finish his sentence, I dropped straight to my knees in front of him. Before I could even speak, Ethan, who had been lounging on the sofa, jumped up in shock. "Riley, why the hell are you kneeling?" I looked at him, absolutely serious. "Ethan, I heard you're home for the summer. I want to hire you as my tutor." Ethan came over to pull me up. "If you want to hire a tutor, just ask. Why are you kneeling? You're going to curse me, and if my mom sees this, she'll beat me to death." "It means I'm begging you," I blinked. "Kneeling on one knee is weird, so kneeling on both shows more sincerity." "..." "Ethan, can I book you for two months at market rate?" "...Don't word it like you're hiring an escort." "Oh." Ethan pulled me up and looked me up and down for a good moment. "I remember your grades being pretty solid. Why do you need me to tutor you?" I hesitated for a second, debating, but decided to be honest. "So you're telling me, since entering high school, you've been stuck in second place for two straight years?" Ethan looked at me in amazement, then gave me a genuine thumbs-up. "Honestly, impressive." "..." Was he mocking me? From what I knew, even though Ethan focused on advanced competitions, whenever he took the standard school exams, no one could ever pry him out of the number one spot. He had no weak subjects. "So you're here to learn the secret to getting first place?" My ears burned, but I nodded honestly. As expected, a fellow try-hard understands best. Ethan suddenly let out a laugh. "If you're willing to drop to your knees and beg me, it seems you really want that number one spot." People like us hate begging others. But Ethan didn't need the money. If I didn't beg, why would he agree to tutor me? And compared to the humiliation of begging, staying the perpetual runner-up would actually kill me. "So, will you teach me?" I looked at him eagerly. Ethan had a lazy smile on his face. It was the exact same effortless, carefree smile he wore during his senior year when he secured his Ivy League acceptance. Faking it without breaking a sweat. I was so incredibly jealous. 3 "Bring me your most recent exams tomorrow. I'll take a look," Ethan said. "I can't guarantee I'll take the job." That meant he would take the job. Try-hards always leave themselves a little wiggle room when they speak. The next day, I brought him my exams. Not just the recent mock exams, but the ones from the two previous grading periods as well. He flipped through all my incorrect answers. His first comment was: "Nice handwriting." "..." Of course it was. Since I was a kid, I knew how crucial good handwriting was. I used to fill baskets with calligraphy practice books, all just so that when people praised my beautiful handwriting, I could casually reply: "It's alright, I guess." It felt amazing. "You don't lose many points on careless mistakes. You're meticulous. For the standard curriculum material, you're getting almost perfect scores. Your biggest problem is the bonus and advanced questions. It's normal that you struggle with the ones that go beyond the syllabus." Ethan paused. He didn't say the second half of that sentence, but I understood. I couldn't do them, but Tristan could. That was where he had the edge. "Also, don't just focus on the STEM subjects. You need to pull your English and History scores up by 5 to 8 points. Maximize your points across the board." I glared at him resentfully. Did he think I didn't know that? Bringing English up by 5 to 8 points meant getting a near-perfect score. He said it like it was nothing. Ethan stared at my tense face and laughed. "Why are you looking at me like that? Didn't you hire me to boost your score? Doubting my abilities?" He was so full of himself. When would I be able to fake it as effortlessly as him? Ethan's parents were thrilled to hear I'd hired him as a tutor. Their reasoning? It would cut down on the time he spent addicted to video games. ? Addicted to video games, yet easily dominating as the academic god? I was so jealous I could cry. High school summer break began. I didn't have summer classes yet, so I practically moved in next door. During the weekdays, I would take pictures of my incorrect answers, send them to Ethan, and he would explain them all to me on the weekends. Actually, before I even sent him most of the questions, I had already spent hours figuring out the logic myself. On the weekend, Ethan asked, "Do you know how to do them now?" I nodded. "Yes." Ethan pulled out a piece of scratch paper with several handwritten problems on it. "Try these." His handwriting was elegant and sharp, perfectly balanced. I remembered a story: the calligraphy class my mom enrolled me in was actually recommended by Ethan's parents. I had never seen the problems on the scratch paper before, but they followed the same core logic as the advanced questions I had gotten wrong. Using what I'd learned, I solved the first two. I got stuck on the third one for a while, scribbling all over the paper, but eventually stumbled my way to the answer. For the last one, I burned through two whole pages of scratch paper. None of the approaches I tried worked. I finally put my pen down and looked at Ethan. "I don't know how to do this one." The guy next to me smirked. "It's fine. That's a college-level competition problem. It's normal that you don't know it." "..." What a blatant attempt to provoke me. 4 I stared at the problem for a long time, as if sheer willpower could reveal the answer. Ethan chuckled beside me. "Alright, going to let your personal tutor show his worth?" His long, elegant fingers gripped the pen and circled two key variables in the equation. He leaned in close as he explained, his voice falling right next to my ear as he turned slightly to look at me. The chaotic mess of my thought process instantly cleared up under his precise guidance. "You probably won't see this exact type of question on your exams, but consider it mental weightlifting." He then flipped back to the previous question I had solved. "My answer was right." I didn't understand why Ethan wanted to waste time on a question I had already conquered. Ethan smiled like a fox. "If you and everyone else can solve the same advanced question, how do you prove you're better than them?" I thought for a moment. "By having cleaner, more elegant steps?" "What else?" I drew a blank. "Riley, think about it. For a tough problem, what if others only know one method, but you know two, or even more?" Under my solution, Ethan wrote: [Method 2]. ? I had an epiphany. My eyes lit up as I looked at him. This was brilliant! So pretentious! I loved it! Immediately, Ethan showed me five other ways to solve that exact problem. Two of them required college-level calculus. But the way he explained it, I actually understood. "..." I was so jealous. By July, my summer break was officially in full swing. When the final semester grades were released, I was at Ethan's house doing practice tests. I checked my rank. Still second. Ethan glanced over. "Scores are out?" I gave a weak "Mhm." "Not bad. You're only 5 points behind first place. That's an improvement." The main reason nobody in school thought I could beat Tristan was that his total score was historically always a solid dozen points higher than mine. I acted completely unfazed at school, but in reality, I was grinding my teeth into dust. Ethan's words did not comfort me. Until he handed me a folder. "Here's your preliminary study plan. Grind through this summer, and we'll talk about competing next semester." "Who's competing?" Ethan nodded patronizingly. "Right, right, you're not competing. A soldier who doesn't want to be a general is a bad soldier, and a student who doesn't want first place is a bad student." "..." When you fail to achieve something for a long time, it becomes an obsession. That summer, I practically lived at Ethan's house, studying until my brain was fried. But Ethan treated his tutoring gig like a real job with actual PTO. Whenever he took a day off, I stayed home and did practice tests. Occasionally, classmates would ask me to hang out, and I would actually go. When the topic of prep classes came up, I would smile faintly. "I didn't sign up for any prep classes. I've just been binge-watching shows and playing video games lately." The binge-watching was true—I watched movie recaps on 3x speed. The video games were also true—Ethan insisted on "work-life balance" and dragged me into playing a few matches with him. My classmates' reactions were exactly what I expected: "Riley, why would you even need tutoring? You should just pack your bags for the Ivy Leagues already!" "It's so unfair how easy school is for smart people. My mom hired a top-tier private tutor for me, and I barely have the energy to breathe, let alone watch TV..." "What games do you play, Riley?" I told them the name of the game, and they looked thrilled. "No way, what a coincidence! We should squad up sometime." "Sure," I agreed with a bright smile. Crap. Now I had to find time to actually practice the game. 5 Ethan's tutoring style was very different from any tutor I'd had before. He was blunt: "Solidifying the basics is important, but the basics alone won't get you to the top. The problem types I'm showing you might never appear in your senior year, but they'll completely rewire your critical thinking skills." He didn't just tutor me in STEM; he took over my English and Humanities too. I studied in the second-floor living room of Ethan's house, using his personal desk that he had dragged out of his study for me. During the day, his parents were at work. It was usually just the two of us, plus the housekeeper who came by to cook. But Ethan would constantly tempt me, asking seductively, "Riley, do you want some junk food?" I seriously suspect that a significant portion of the tutoring money my mom paid him ended up in both of our stomachs via Uber Eats. While I solved problems, Ethan would sit behind me on the sofa, playing on his phone. When I finished, I'd turn around for him to grade them. I turned around once and found him fast asleep on the sofa. I crouched next to him, admiring his flawless skin, his sharp nose, and his thick eyelashes up close. "..." Jealousy came as naturally as breathing to me. After waiting ten minutes, seeing no sign of him waking up, I poked his arm. Ethan woke up, looking at me groggily. It took him a few seconds to process. "Finished?" He sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry. I was playing games until 4 AM last night. I'm a bit tired." Then he walked over to the desk, picked up my scratch paper, glanced at it, and immediately identified the mistake. I stared at him resentfully. He gamed until 4 AM, then woke up early the next day to earn money as a tutor? And he still had this much energy? Jealous. I spent my entire summer following Ethan's grueling routine. Driven by the desire for that number one spot, I forgot to eat and sleep. I went through every single past exam paper from the last few years. As long as it wasn't a purely subjective essay question, I secured every possible point. Before I knew it, the new school year started. I went back to school earlier than Ethan. He handed me a brand new study plan. "Your teachers have to accommodate the pace of the whole class. This plan is tailored specifically for you. Also, these are a few workbooks I picked out for you from the bookstore. Text me if you have any questions." I had to admit, Ethan was an incredibly dedicated tutor. He charged by the hour, but he constantly went into overtime and flatly refused whenever my mom tried to offer him a bonus. Senior year didn't shuffle the class rosters, so I was surrounded by familiar faces, but the atmosphere was noticeably more intense. The teachers constantly fed us motivational quotes like, "The game isn't over yet; any of you could be the dark horse." I had heard it all a million times. Until the first mock exam of senior year. I was laser-focused during every single subject. After finishing, I meticulously checked my work. Hiring Ethan as my tutor had definitely paid off. I could feel my problem-solving logic was infinitely sharper than before. On the day the rankings were posted, I suppressed the burning anxiety in my chest and casually strolled past the Honor Roll board. My eyes slowly drifted to the name in the number one spot. Riley Evans. First place! My very first number one rank in high school! The corners of my mouth crept up. I looked down at the second-place name. ? It wasn't Tristan? I scanned all the way down to tenth place. Tristan's name wasn't there. Something was wrong. 6 At that moment, I heard people talking in front of the board: "What happened this time? Riley is actually first. Where's Tristan?" "Tristan had a terrible fever on the day of the exam. He was absent." "No wonder. Otherwise, how could Riley ever get first?" "..." My rising smile froze completely. Before the rankings came out, I had imagined many scenarios. The worst one was remaining in second place. I never imagined that Tristan would be absent. Which meant, to everyone else, this first-place finish was basically handed to me by default. I was furious. Back in the classroom, friends congratulated me on getting first place. I acted humble on the surface, thanking them, but the second I got home, I turned into a miserable, brooding mushroom. Before bed, Ethan unexpectedly video-called me. I hesitated for a second but answered. The background was his college dorm. Ethan was sitting at his desk, wearing a headset. "What do you want?" I muttered darkly. The guy on the screen smiled at me. "Your mom said you got first place but you've been looking depressed all evening. She dispatched me to cheer you up. Why aren't you happy about getting first, Ms. Evans?" I pressed my lips together, refusing to speak. But Ethan was incredibly patient, and eventually, I spilled the whole story. Ethan was silent for a few seconds after listening, then said sympathetically, "No wonder your eyes are red from crying." "Who's crying?!" I glared at him. Ethan laughed again. "Riley, I asked around. You're nearly 20 points ahead of the second-place student. That proves you've made huge progress." "People are saying I won by default," I said, still feeling low. Although I was a try-hard who loved to show off, I had always backed it up with genuine, hard-earned ability. "Even if he hadn't been absent this time, you still would have gotten first place, and people still would have said it was a fluke." Ethan offered advice from the perspective of someone who had been there. "He missed one exam. He won't miss the second or the third. Your goal isn't just to get first place once. Over time, those doubting voices will disappear." Ethan's words calmed me down a bit. I knew the logic, but I had been obsessing over this ranking for two years and had dug myself into a mental hole. "Figured it out? If you have, go to sleep peacefully. You're too young to carry so much mental baggage." The call ended. I took a deep breath, lay down on my bed, and tried to sleep. Ten minutes later, I crawled out of bed and finished half a practice test at my desk before I could finally sleep peacefully. When I went back to school the next day, I maintained my persona as the effortless, aloof academic god. My homeroom teacher even called me into the office for a pep talk: "Riley, your state of mind this semester is excellent, but don't put too much pressure on yourself. If you run into any difficulties in your studies or your personal life, you can always talk to me." I knew the teachers also felt my first-place finish wasn't entirely legitimate, but just as Ethan said, we had a long road ahead. Time would prove everything. The next major exam after the mock was the city-wide standardized test. Tristan, in the class next door, had long since returned to school. As the exam approached, I accidentally overheard the boys in his class talking as they walked together: "Tristan, make sure you take back your rightful number one spot this time!" 7 A city-wide standardized test naturally included students from other high schools, allowing for a much broader comparison. The questions this time were brutally difficult, especially in Math and Physics. Even the English section included a lot of obscure, college-level vocabulary. Almost everyone walked out of the exam rooms sighing in despair. I, of course, realized the difficulty of the exam. And the results proved that my decision to hire Ethan as my tutor over the summer was entirely correct. After the exams were over, the teachers began reviewing the papers. Because of the difficulty, one class period simply wasn't enough time. When the math teacher finally got to the last question, half the grading results had already been released. "It's completely normal that most of you couldn't solve this problem. Getting the first sub-question right is already a great achievement. From what I know, the teachers grading this question had a very easy time. So far, there are fewer than five students in the entire city who solved it perfectly. Do we have anyone in our class who did?" In the dead silence, I slowly raised my hand. The math teacher nodded in satisfaction. "It looks like in the two classes I teach, only Riley and Tristan from the class next door managed to solve it. "Riley, come up to the board and walk us through your thought process." Under the watchful eyes of everyone, I walked to the podium and clearly laid out and explained the solution steps. When I finished calculating the final result on the chalkboard, I paused and looked at the math teacher. "Teacher, actually, I have another method that is much more elegant." The math teacher looked slightly surprised. "Go ahead." So, I began explaining the second method. This time, more students in the class showed expressions of sudden realization. The math teacher's gaze upon me was filled with even more admiration. I couldn't care less if people secretly called me a try-hard. When people think I'm pretending to be a genius, it means my performance was a success. It felt so good! Even before the official scores for all subjects were released, I had already estimated my score based on the answer keys. My ranking would depend on how everyone else performed. On the day the rankings were posted, I didn't rush to look at them immediately. Being too eager would ruin my aloof, unbothered persona. During passing period, while everyone else ran to check the brand-new Honor Roll board, I sat calmly at my desk, working on the practice book Ethan had given me. My desk-mate jogged back into the room, looking at me excitedly. "Riley, you're number one! Number one in the whole city!" She wasn't the only one. Other classmates came over to congratulate me. "As expected of our Queen Riley! You're insane! You beat Tristan by 2 points!" "With questions that difficult, scoring a 1580—are you trying to ascend to heaven?" "This is so satisfying! When you got first on the last mock exam, the class next door said you only won because Tristan was absent and got lucky. Let's see what they have to say now!" "..." I had a pretty good reputation in class. Firstly, because of my grades, and secondly, because of my willingness to help classmates with their questions. I was even the Class Representative for Academics. Now, facing my classmates who were genuinely happy for me, I maintained my persona and smiled faintly. "I guess I just had pretty good luck this time." That day after school, I walked past the Honor Roll board. Seeing the names of the little couple from the class next door nestled together right beneath my first-place spot, a mysterious smile graced my face. I had finally granted the little couple's wish. Going home, I hid under my thin blanket and rolled around on my bed in excitement. It felt so good! Getting first place is the best feeling in the world! 8 When I went back to school, I was still the hardworking, humble, and unbothered top student. Since we were in adjacent classes, I occasionally bumped into Tristan in the hallway. We obviously knew who each other were, but we weren't close—barely even acquaintances. For the past two years, he probably hadn't even considered me a blip on his radar, considering I had always been stuck beneath him in the academic rankings. Now, when we crossed paths, I occasionally caught him looking at me. It was the kind of appraising look reserved for a genuine rival. Satisfying. I naturally told Ethan about getting first place. After offering a few polite compliments, he asked for my exam papers and then asked, "How are you doing on those practice books I gave you before?" "I've finished most of them," I replied. "I bought a new set of exams. I'll bring them back for you this weekend," Ethan said. I was a bit taken aback. "Didn't the tutoring end a long time ago..." Giving me practice books right as the tutoring ended made sense, but what was the point of bringing me more exams now? Ethan chuckled. "Isn't this my first time being a tutor? I need to let you experience what premium after-sales service feels like." "..." I really need to learn how to act as effortlessly cool as him in the future. In a semester, there are only a few major exams with grade-wide rankings. After the city-wide standardized test, there was another mock exam. I didn't get first place that time. I missed it by exactly 1 point. My mindset was better than before, but I still went home and sulked for the entire night. Compared to Tristan's crushing dominance in the past, the current situation was much brighter for me. The nickname "Perpetual Runner-Up" was slowly detaching itself from me. When finals approached, I dialed my focus up to twelve. I double-checked almost every single question. Especially for the advanced questions, I only felt relieved when I used two different methods and arrived at the exact same answer. After that came winter break. Time passed much faster than I imagined. Just a few days into the break, it was my 18th birthday. My parents went all out decorating the house, ordered a custom cake, and prepared gifts. That day, the final rankings were released. First place, beating the second place by a full 5 points. My heart was soaring with joy. After asking for my opinion, my parents invited Ethan's family over for dinner. At the dinner table, the adults engaged in their usual round of mutual bragging about their kids. I was used to it. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ethan seriously focusing on his food. Good, he didn't let my dad's cooking go to waste. After eating the birthday cake, Ethan said he was taking me to his roof to set off fireworks. "You call these sparklers 'fireworks'?" I asked, delivering a soul-piercing question. "Why is a young kid like you looking down on sparklers?" Ethan smiled brightly. "Aren't they pretty?" "..." They were pretty, sure. But standing on a roof in the freezing winter wind at night made us look like complete idiots. Ethan lit a sparkler and placed it in my hand. "Make another wish. The day isn't over yet. Wish for whatever teenage dreams you have." The bright sparks danced in my hand. I reverently closed my eyes and solemnly made my 18th birthday wish. Click. A flash of white light went off. I opened my eyes to see Ethan pointing a camera at me, having just taken a picture. I had no idea where he pulled it from. "What did you wish for?" he asked. The sparkler in my hand hadn't burned out yet. I met his gaze, unaware of how bright my eyes looked in the glow of the sparks. "I want to be the State Valedictorian." That was my teenage dream. An incredibly ambitious dream. The sparkler fizzled out, but Ethan smiled, his eyes shining brightly too. "Alright, keep coming over during winter break. I'll keep tutoring you." I looked up in surprise. Before I could speak, he added, "Free of charge." After hesitating for a moment, I asked, "If you have free time, shouldn't you be looking for an internship?" Ethan looked at me, raising an eyebrow. "Did I not tell you? I'm in a combined Master's-PhD program. It's going to be a long time before I graduate." "..." So pretentious. I was dying of envy. As I was about to head downstairs, Ethan took the camera off his neck and, without any warning, hung it around mine. The weight of it made me freeze. "This is your birthday present. I hope you'll be a happy adult."
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