Chapter 3

The next morning, before heading to the second day of the competition, I made a quick stop at a corner convenience store. I walked down the brightly lit aisles and picked out a can of Volt-X, the exact same brand Ethan had given me. Then I went to a cheap accessory kiosk and bought a simple charm bracelet, a knock-off of the one Liam had tried to give me, for five dollars. I put them in my bag. A good general always has a contingency plan.

The competition venue' s cafeteria was a chaotic mess of stressed-out students. I found an empty table in a corner and sat down with a simple bowl of noodles. I was halfway through my meal when they found me. Sarah, flanked by her new clique of admirers, stopped in front of my table.

One of the girls, a sycophant named Maya, wrinkled her nose. "Ew, Sarah, what are you doing over here? This whole corner smells like poor people."

Another one laughed. "Seriously. Chloe, can' t you afford anything better than instant noodles? Oh wait, I forgot, you probably can' t."

Sarah just stood there, a small, passive smile on her face as her new friends tore me down. She was cultivating an image of a benevolent queen, too gracious to engage in such petty insults herself, but happy to let her court jesters do the dirty work.

I didn't look at them. I kept my eyes on my noodles and spoke directly to Sarah, my voice calm and even.

"Sarah, are you going to let them talk to me like that?"

My question hung in the air. The girls stopped laughing, surprised by my direct challenge. Sarah' s smile tightened. She was supposed to be the humble, kind prodigy. She couldn' t be seen condoning bullying, not openly.

"Oh, girls, stop it," she said, her tone a perfect blend of gentle chiding and theatrical exasperation. "Don' t be mean to Chloe. She' s trying her best." She then looked at me. "I' m sorry, Chloe. They' re just joking."

It was a masterful non-apology, placing her firmly on the moral high ground.

"Come on, everyone," she announced, turning on her heel. "My treat. Let' s go to The Crystal Room. I heard their new chef is from a three-star Michelin restaurant."

She led her flock away, leaving me alone in the noisy cafeteria. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed. It was a notification from Instagram. Sarah had just posted a picture of her and her friends at a lavishly set table in a five-star restaurant, champagne glasses raised. The caption read: Fueling up for another win! So blessed to be able to share my success with my amazing friends! #TechInnovators #GoodVibesOnly

The second exam was even harder than the first. The air was thick with tension and the sound of furious typing. When it was over, the hall erupted in groans and sighs of defeat.

"That' s it, I' m done. My brain is completely fried."

"Did anyone even understand that last algorithm? It felt like it was written in an alien language."

But once again, Sarah was the picture of calm confidence.

"Honestly, I wish they' d give us a real challenge," she said loudly, stretching her arms as if she' d just woken from a nap. "My fingers are getting bored."

The other students looked at her with a mixture of resentment and worship. She was untouchable, a goddess of code. That evening, to cement her image as a generous benefactor, she invited the entire group of contestants out for another expensive dinner.

From across the room, I watched her. I also watched her friends. While Sarah was holding court, I saw Maya, the girl who had insulted my noodles, discreetly typing a question into a search engine on her phone, her brow furrowed in concentration. She was looking up a basic coding principle, something anyone at this level should have known by heart.

It was clear. Sarah wasn't sharing her cheat codes. The answers Ethan was feeding her were for her alone. She wasn' t building a team; she was collecting followers who made her look good. Her generosity was a performance, and her friendships were a transaction. And I knew, with absolute certainty, that I was going to make her pay for all of it.