Round one of the maths olympiad is hosted by Old Trafford Community Academy. Well, our round one; six take place today in different parts of the region, and the teams who place first will proceed to the second round on December tenth.

We wait outside the school hall. Considering the competition is held on Saturday and this is maths olympiad which no one gives a fuck about, the building is mostly apocalyptic.

I sit on a bench with Meira and Noah while Diwa stands in front of us and babbles on about strategy—"read all the questions through before you start solving" and other stupid nonsense like that. Apostolou, who's incensed to waste half his Saturday chaperoning pupils he loathes, is nowhere to be seen. He gave us no final words of encouragement about how if we lose we lose as a team.

The team from Old Trafford are gathered across the corridor, among them Asha Hodan who incrementally looks at me and loses her shit. To be fair, if the me who attended this school– well, if the me from three weeks ago, saw myself at a maths olympiad competition (on a Saturday, to say less), I would laugh too.

'Can you focus or has your prefrontal cortex been surgically removed?'

My eyes flit back to Diwa. In an extremely unique and unpredictable turn of events, she's glaring at me. She casts a glance at Asha over her shoulder.

'Why do you keep staring at her?'

I shrug. 'We've got history.'

'What, did you fuck her under a desk in the biology lab?'

My eyebrows rise to my hairline. 'No... That was specific—personal fantasy, is it?'

Diwa scoffs, unbothered by the accusation. She makes no attempt to hide her scepticism about my lack of having done the devil's tango with Asha.

'Not that kind of history,' I say with an eye roll. 'I'm asexual. Not planning to have sex ever, with anyone, cause I don't have a brain disease that makes me desire other people's bodily fluids.'

Diwa's eyes widen a fraction, softening their amber glow to reveal genuine shock.

'I thought you had sex with your maths teacher,' Noah says.

'Well, I didn't. I just did well in class—a mistake I'll never make again.'

The maggots in my gut write. Ahmed Cossa was the best teacher I've had in my life, the only teacher who might've actually cared about me. All he ever did was try to help me. Those rumours might've ruined his life.

You might've ruined his life. Does that make you happy?

Diwa studies me as though seeing someone new. Her attention flings from my clutter of piercings to my smudged eyeliner and settles onto the non-binary and aroace bottle cap pins I made for my jacket.

'You don't look asexual.'

'Right, I'll go transfigure myself into a fucking ant.' Closing my eyes, I sigh. 'If you must know, those rumours about me stabbing someone in my old school—that was her.'

'You stabbed her?' Meira whispers.

'No. She's the one who started the rumours. I've never stabbed anyone!' The scar on my thigh burns. 'Well, that's not entirely true but definitely not Asha Hodan.'

'Who–?'

Diwa cuts Noah off. 'As exhilarating as your history of violent crime is, could we please return to strategy because this competition is about to start in ten minutes?'

Noah sinks into himself, apologises for interrupting again but he really needs to go to the toilet. 'Sorry, I always have to pee when I'm nervous.' He tugs at my sleeve. 'Since you used to go here, can you tell me where the nearest one is?'

I point to the end of the corridor. 'There's one if you turn right, then right again.'

'Cheers, Cece. You're the best.'

I recoil, grimacing until I catch Diwa's probing expression. 'I might've got expelled after five weeks but, you know what they say, spatial memory's like riding a bike or whatever.'

Diwa don't crack a smile. 'Are you planning to hack it longer than five weeks this time?'

'Obviously. That's the only reason I'm here. '

When I look at her, my eyes have sharpened to match her vulture ones.

'Not like the company's a major catch.'

'Great to know I've such a reliable team.'

'Did you have a nightmare about failing your exams or do nerves always make you extra moody?' She opens her mouth to answer but I stand up, a head taller, and she falls silent. 'Why the fuck are you complaining? I'm here, aren't I? Wearing these stupid clothes too.'

'Oh, you're the best, Cece. Thank you for gracing us with your presence.' Her cloying admiration cracks to the usual distaste. 'D'you want a chufty badge for participating? Are you actually planning to participate or will you just threaten to stab Asha if she don't throw the competition?'

I scoff but the thought spiral has already started. What if I will? What if I will? What if I will? What if I will? What if I will? The image of the school hall bathed in blood spawns behind my eyes and the more I try not to think about it, the worse it gets.

I nail my hostility to Diwa. 'You reckon you're so much better than everyone else and no one likes ya cause we're just not on your level,' I mock. 'I'm not being funny, but have you considered that maybe not everyone else is the problem and you're just a stuck-up cunt?'

At that exact moment, the school hall doors open and a squat man wearing a "mistakes allow for thinking to happen" shirt smiles at us. 'We will begin shortly. Welcome inside, please.'

Notes

Chufy badge: Invisible badge of honour for doing something insignificant.

Throw the competition: Intentionally lose. Usually, this is done so that those who have bet on a certain team/person are guaranteed their money.