The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the exam hall, casting long beams across the polished floor. The faint scent of old wood and chalk dust clung to the air, mingling with the charged tension humming through rows of desks. I slid into my seat, the cool edge of the chair biting faintly into the backs of my knees. My fingers curled around my pen, the smooth barrel fitting easily into my palm. Around me, students shifted, whispered, shuffled papers—the collective rustle of anxiety filling every pocket of silence.
Evelyn sat two rows ahead, her golden hair catching the light in soft waves. She turned slightly, lips tugging into a practiced, easy smile as she caught someone's glance, but I didn't miss the tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth, the quick flicker of her fingers smoothing her skirt. Her eyes darted back once, landing on me for half a heartbeat before flicking away. Even from here, I saw it—the brittle tightness at the edge of her smile, the faint tremor under her calm.
Leo dropped into the seat behind me with a faint huff of amusement. "Morning, champion," he murmured, voice pitched low and edged with warmth. His foot tapped lightly against the leg of my chair, the brief contact a silent tether. "Sleep well, or were you up counting how many ways you'll annihilate the curve?"
A quiet laugh slipped from my lips, the sound startling even to me. "Didn't need to," I murmured, leaning back just enough to catch his crooked grin, feeling a flicker of warmth stir low in my chest. My shoulders relaxed by a fraction, the knot of tension in my stomach uncoiling ever so slightly.
The exam papers hit the desks with a series of soft thuds, each drop punctuating the air like a ticking clock. My heartbeat steadied, breath falling into a familiar rhythm as I scanned the first page. The numbers, the passages, the questions—they lined up neatly under my gaze, each one folding effortlessly into place like pieces of a puzzle I had already solved in my mind. My fingers danced over the paper, pen gliding in smooth, confident strokes.
Evelyn shifted again, a quick glance sideways betraying the first crack in her perfect mask. Her lashes flicked down, lips pressing into a thin line before smoothing out again as she straightened her posture. Amy, sitting a row over, chewed anxiously on the cap of her pen, fingers twitching at the edge of her paper. Her gaze flicked between the questions and Evelyn, panic tightening the corners of her mouth. A faint, helpless sigh slipped from her lips as her knee bounced beneath the desk, a rapid, restless tap against the floor that echoed faintly in the hush.
Across the room, the teachers' eyes swept back and forth, arms folded, their murmured instructions fading to the background as I bent over my work. My pen moved in smooth, confident strokes, each answer pouring out with calm precision. The murmurs faded, the sounds of scribbling pens and rustling pages wrapped around me like a cocoon, narrowing the world to the sharp edge of focus.
Leo's quiet exhale drifted toward me, and I felt, more than heard, the subtle scrape of his chair as he leaned forward just slightly. "Looking good," he whispered, the words a brush of air against my ear. I didn't glance back, but the faint smile tugging at my lips was answer enough, the curl of satisfaction warming at the base of my throat.
The clock ticked on.
Halfway through, I let myself glance up once. Evelyn's posture was immaculate, shoulders relaxed, head tilted just so—but her thumb worried at the corner of her paper, a tiny tremor giving her away. Her brows knit ever so faintly as her eyes skimmed a question, her lips pressing together before she exhaled, sharp enough to stir a lock of hair near her cheek. She lifted a hand to tuck it behind her ear, the motion graceful but a shade too quick.
Amy's foot jittered under her chair, and when her pen slipped, clattering softly to the floor, the startled squeak she gave drew a brief, sharp flicker of irritation from Evelyn's eyes. I caught it—a crack in the polished veneer, just long enough to carve a thin seam through her carefully stacked image. Amy bent hastily, cheeks flushed, fingers fumbling to retrieve the pen as her papers shifted and rustled. The faint scent of nerves—sharp sweat, over-sweet perfume—hung between them.
I bent over my page, pen dancing faster, the scratch of ink against paper a steady, relentless rhythm. The weight of the room faded, the tension of watching eyes fell away, and for those few minutes, there was only the puzzle in front of me and the smooth, sure motion of my hand.
By the time the final bell rang, the hall exploded into motion. Chairs scraped back, voices burst into anxious chatter, and the heavy atmosphere cracked open like a shell. I stacked my papers neatly, fingers brushing over the cool, smooth surface once before sliding them forward. My breath eased out in a long, controlled stream, chest lifting and falling as I stretched faintly in my seat.
Leo stretched as he stood, arms lifting over his head with a low groan of satisfaction. "Easy money," he murmured, flashing a grin as he raked a hand through his hair. "I think you broke the sound barrier, Hayes."
I lifted a brow, lips curving faintly. "We'll see."
As I turned to leave, a ripple of murmurs stirred through the crowd near the bulletin board. The rankings had already been posted. My name—sharp, clean, undeniable—sat at the very top, each letter a gleaming blade cutting through the thrum of whispers. My heart gave a quick, sharp beat, breath hitching for half a second before settling into a steady, satisfied rhythm.
The air shifted. I felt it before I heard it—the sharp suck of breath, the rush of feet, the sudden tidal pull of attention swinging my way.
"Lottie?" someone gasped, incredulous laughter bubbling through the words. "She beat Evelyn?"
"No way," someone else murmured, the awe soft but spreading like wildfire, rippling through the crowd like an electric current.
Amy hovered at the edge of the group, eyes wide and stricken, fingers clutching her phone like a lifeline. Her lips parted slightly, a thin, shaky breath escaping as she stared at the board. Evelyn's lips curved, the corners pulling up in a brittle smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her gaze flicked across the crowd, the faint sheen of sweat at her temple betraying the fury brewing just beneath her skin. One hand tightened on the strap of her bag, the leather groaning faintly under her grip.
I felt a sharp pulse in my chest—not quite triumph, not quite relief. It was something cleaner, fiercer, edged with steel. My steps carried me forward, calm and steady, through the thrum of voices, through the flood of glances ricocheting toward me like thrown pebbles. The brush of a shoulder here, a whispered gasp there, the quick turn of a head as I passed—each one carved the moment a little deeper under my skin.
"Impressive," Leo murmured at my side, his voice low and edged with amusement, his shoulder brushing lightly against mine. "You didn't just win. You rewrote the board."
"Enjoy this while you can," Evelyn's voice drifted toward me, soft and sweet as poisoned honey. I turned slightly, catching the glint in her eyes—the sharp flicker of fury masked behind velvet words. Her smile curved just a shade too high, her fingers tightening on the strap of her bag until the knuckles gleamed white. Her breath, when she spoke again, was edged with something brittle. "It's easy to win once, Charlotte. Let's see you keep it."
"Thanks," I murmured, voice silk-wrapped steel, eyes cool as glass. "I plan to."
A muscle ticked once at the corner of Evelyn's jaw. Amy's gaze darted between us, throat working in a hard swallow, fingers twisting nervously at the hem of her sleeve. The air between us stretched tight, electric, the quiet crackle of tension singing against my skin.
The sunlight outside cut sharp and brilliant across the courtyard as I stepped into the cool air. A breeze stirred loose strands of hair against my cheeks, the faint scent of spring grass brushing past, sweet and sharp. I drew in a breath, slow and deep, feeling the cool bite clear the last shadows of tension from my chest. The stretch of sky above was an endless blue, unmarred and vast, the light so bright it pulled a faint ache behind my eyes.
Behind me, I caught the faintest whisper of footsteps—Leo falling into step at my side, his presence a quiet anchor. His shoulder brushed mine lightly, a fleeting touch, and when I glanced at him, his grin was easy but his eyes sharp, bright with something unspoken.
"You think she's going to take that lying down?" he asked softly, amusement dancing in the curve of his mouth, his voice low enough to thread just between us.
"Not a chance," I murmured, lips twitching faintly, the corner of my mouth pulling up in a small, knowing smile.
Behind us, the buzz of voices rose, the murmur of Evelyn's name rippling through the crowd, a soft tide of awe edged with cracks of doubt. Amy's laugh drifted faintly, brittle and too bright, the sharp tremor in it like glass tapping against stone. The sound of it brushed against the back of my neck, a faint echo that stirred the sharp edge of memory.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, sharp and insistent against my hip.
Amy: "Congrats in advance… enjoy it while it lasts."
The words glowed sharp and cold against the screen. My fingers hovered over the message, thumb brushing the edge. A small, quiet laugh slipped from my throat, half bitter, half amused, the sound curling tight in my chest. The sting of betrayal barely had time to catch before resolve hardened over it like ice, clean and cold.
The game was changing.
And for the first time, I was the one holding the pieces.