The hours turned into days, and before I knew it, it was the moment of truth. The calling of destiny. The day of doom.

In other words, the Junior Mathematics Tournament was upon me.

I woke up on Saturday morning to the welcoming sight of pouring rain, not to mention the cheerful sounds of Mom and Dad arguing in raised voices downstairs. A perfectly terrible start to what I was sure would be a perfectly terrible tournament.

Neither of my parents stopped to greet me as I shoved a piece of toast in my mouth and tried frantically to cram a few last-minute equations into my brain. Unfortunately, last-minute memorization was made slightly difficult by the fact that my parents were playing their new favorite game (Who Can Scream The Loudest In Mandarin?) only a few feet away from me.

“This is your fault as much as it is mine—” Mom accused.

“Oh, please. Who was the one who decided to let our son pursue a degree in advertising of all things, Mei?”

“We both did, not just me.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to anything!”

“Of course you did. You signed the papers! How could you even say—?”

I banged my math binder on the table until my parents stopped their shouting match to stare at me. “Good morning,” I said abruptly. “If either of you will be so kind as to notice the world, I have an important math competition to get to in half an hour.”

My mom and dad just stared at me for a moment, realization dawning on their faces. Then they glared at each other so simultaneously that it was a little creepy.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our daughter’s math competition?” they both shouted at once.

I spent the entire half-hour ride in the car listening to Mom mutter to herself about how she wish she’d married the rich fellow who had courted her years ago rather than my idiot father. My strategy the whole time was to stay as quiet as possible and give the occasional obligatory nod. Mom didn’t get angry often, but when she got angry, she got angry.

By the time we arrived at the doors of Jefferson High School, the tournament’s host for this year, I was looking forward to losing to Alexander compared to spending just one more minute with my mom.

“Good luck,” she practically snapped at me as I exited the car. “Make sure you win this time.”

It was never ‘try your best’ with my family—just ‘make sure you win’. And ‘don’t shame the family’. And ‘don’t make me beat you with the bamboo stick’. At least nobody couldn’t complain about the lack of variety.

Just as I figured this day couldn’t get much worse, I joined the check-in line and found Alexander Lin standing on my left.

The first thing I noticed (and had to grudgingly admit) was that he didn’t look half bad today. He wore a light blue dress shirt and his slacks were formal enough for the competition, but not so formal that they made him look about fifty.

Alexander smiled at me when he saw I was staring at him. Before I could run in the opposite direction, he tapped me on the shoulder.

“Hey,” he said after swallowing something he’d been chewing on. He held out a pouch of cashews to me. “Want one?”

“No, thanks,” I said a little frostily. “I don’t like nuts,” I amended.

“You know, taken out of context, that statement could have been a lot more scandalous.”

If Alexander hadn’t stepped forward to register at that time, I might have punched him somewhere nutty. Let’s just put it that way.

Anyway, Alexander got off lucky this time, because our paths only crossed as far as the registration table. After the tired-looking lady behind the table checked my ID and handed me a nametag, I followed the small procession of competitors into the cafeteria. There was a brief welcoming speech. The principal of Jefferson High explained all the rules. The participants pretended to be listening, when they were really learning how to sleep with their eyes open.

“…Without further ado, let’s have the ninety-fifth annual Junior Mathematics Tournament begin,” the principal finally said to enthusiastic snores from the audience.  “I wish you all the best of luck!”

The first portion of the tournament was held on the auditorium stage. As with every year, it was a team competition: two teams with five kids on each would face off in a jeopardy-style game that related entirely to math.

I hated this part. Every year, there was always some wise guy on my team who would buzz in even if he didn’t know the answer. Then he’d just stare at the other team for a few minutes while people who actually knew the answer but couldn’t say it (me) would silently concoct plans to murder him in his sleep.

This year, as we went around introducing ourselves, I noticed that it didn’t seem like I had a wise guy on my team. But I did have something even worse. Much, much worse.

“Hey, teammate,” Alexander Lin said, leaning against the podium and smiling at me. “Still angry about my nuts?” He arched an eyebrow suggestively and then broke out into laughter.

“Oh, ha-ha, Alexander. Very witty. Very witty and mature,” I said. While Alexander continued his round of self-congratulatory guffaws, I ignored him and faced the rest of my team. There was a small, mousy-looking Caucasian girl named Maxie who was muttering to herself off to the side. Two Indian boys whose names I’d forgotten already sat with their heads together, feverishly flipping through last-minute equations.

It was more or less what the opposing team looked like.

“I think we’ll beat them easily,” Alexander whispered to me.

“You think so?”

“Oh, absolutely. Especially with you on this team.”

I whipped my head around and gave Alexander a funny look. “Oh…um…thanks?”

“And me, of course.”

I knew the complimenting thing was too good to be true.

Anyway, as soon as the judges got settled into their seating panel in front of us, my team and I took our places behind the buzzers. Norman Gates, the man reading off the questions, took just a moment to rearrange his cards and explain the rules for anyone who might not have known how the competition would work.

As he talked, I took a moment to breathe deeply and remind myself that my reflexes and brains were just as sharp as ever. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Maxie was closing her eyes and focusing on breathing deeply as well. The two Indian boys were staring at their buzzers like they were the last pieces of chocolate on Earth.

Then the first part of the Junior Mathematics Tournament began.

“We will have Team One take pick the first question,” Norman said.

“Numbers for two hundred points,” shot off an unfamiliar Asian boy on the opposing team.

“Very well.” Norman cleared his throat. “This is what the square root of negative one is also known as.”

I slammed the buzzer before anyone else could. “What is ‘i’?”

“Correct! Team Two, you may now pick a category and a value.”

“Algebra for one hundred points,” I said.

“This is used to determine whether or not a graph is a function.”

This time, Alexander beat me to the buzzer by a fraction of a second. “What is the vertical line test?”

“Correct again. Next category and value, please.”

“Theorems for two hundred points,” Alexander rattled off.

“The theorem that states any polynomial of degree n has n roots.”

“What is the fundamental theorem of algebra?” I blurted out.

Alexander, who had his hand pressed on the button, shot me a slightly annoyed look. I responded to it with a sarcastic little smile. Two could play at this game.

It went on like that for a while. We’d settled into a pattern before I even realized it. I would answer one question, Alexander the next, then I'd show him up, and then it would be his turn. Occasionally, the opposition or someone on our team would jump in, but it was pretty clear who the real competitors were in this game.

Thanks to us, our team was up by a grand total of nine hundred points by the end of the game.

“Good work, guys,” I told the other three kids as we stepped off the stage.

One of the Indian boys just stopped and stared at me like I'd just sworn at him. “Good work?” he repeated.

His friend snorted. “What do you mean, ‘good work’? Good work blinking, you mean? Good work breathing? What was there even to do for us?”

“Yeah. You didn’t have to hog all the spotlight,” Maxie said bitterly as she stomped past me. “We know you know everything, but couldn’t you let us answer just a few questions?”

I felt my cheeks flame. “Of course I don’t know everything,” I said, my fists curling at my sides. “And anyway, why does that matter if we won?”

“Why does it matter?” Maxie repeated. She shook her head. “You know what? I’m done. I’ve got to get to my testing room for part two of this competition. So thanks for getting me into this round, at least.” She paused and gave me a cold look. “But next time, no thanks.”

Just as Maxie turned to storm away, I felt a hand land on my shoulder.

“Hey, that’s no way to talk to the girl who just saved your neck,” Alexander Lin said, frowning at Maxie.

“It’s okay, honestly,” I whispered, but he didn’t seem to hear anything.

“Who said my neck needed saving in the first place?” Maxie spat, looking like she was ready to face off against both of us. Then her eyes widened with realization. “Ugh. I get it now. You’re not really mad. You can’t stand that someone’s criticizing your precious girlfriend is all.”

Alexander and I both jumped a little part at that statement, suddenly realizing how close we’d been standing.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said firmly, “but I want you to apologize to her anyway.”

“What for?”

“What else?” Alexander shot back.

I was a little touched by the fact that Alexander was defending me, but the way he was glaring at Maxie like he wanted to throw her into a blender and crank it up high was beginning ot unnerve me. I didn't need that kind of thing on my record. It would look terrible on college applications.

“It’s okay, Alexander. Let’s just drop it,” I said, loudly and more insistently this time. Before Alexander could open his mouth and protest, I raised my voice and threw Maxie a pointed look. “Bye, Maxie. Good luck on part two.”

She squinted at me as though trying to figure out if I was being sincere or not. Then she shrugged and disappeared up the steps.

“You shouldn't just let people walk over you like that, you know,” Alexander said into the silence. He wasn’t looking at me.

“I’m touched by your concern, but she wasn’t ‘walking over’ me.”

“Are you kidding me? Let me ask you, did you see her getting all angry at me for answering half the questions?”

“Well…no.”

“No. I think that girl has it out for you.” Alexander’s eyes reflected concern in them as he stepped in a little closer to me. “Just…just don't let her cut you down like that next time. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said. “I think you're overreacting, but...okay.”

Alexander and I held each others’ gazes, just staring for a few tense moments. Then I broke the atmosphere by making up some excuse about looking for my pencil in the bathroom.

There was no pencil. Just in case that wasn't clear enough.

After that, I ran away and didn’t look back. Because truth be told, I’d gotten a funny feeling around Alexander when he had stuck up for me just a few moments ago.

And I didn't like it. Not at all.

*****

A/N - Please vote/comment to show your support for this story!

Also, sorry it took me a week to update this thing. I feel like I kind of hit a rut, but the good thing is that something very bad is about to happen. And I like writing about bad things happening. Which means you guys can expect a quicker update xD

In other news: I don't know who's read Heroes Deep Within (prequel to this book) or not, but you better mark your calenders for June 6th. It's gonna be featured on Wattpad! :D Just thought I would share. You know. Because I...Yeah. I never know how to end these things....