Filed to story: Katy and Brayden Cooper Novel
The room instantly explodes into chatter and scraping chairs.
Allie and I shove our stuff into our bags, falling into the stream of students funneling toward the door. My head’s still buzzing with numbers and ideas when a voice cuts through the noise.
“Katy.”
I turn, already bracing myself and, of course, it’s Zhao Lan. He’s gliding down the aisle like he owns the place, dressed head to toe in something expensive that probably costs more than my dorm fee. And his smile? It’s still infuriating and condescending as ever.
“You planning to enter this thing?” he asks, stopping just close enough to block my way.
I square my shoulders because I already know where this is going. With Zhao Lan, there’s always one direction: straight into his ego.
“Why?” I ask, folding my arms as people bump past me. “You considering the same thing?”
He huffs like I just insulted him. “I’m not considering, I will. A million will fund my great post-graduation plans.”
I bite back a groan. If I had a dollar for every time Zhao Lan used the word great since freshman year, I’d already have a car paid off. I’m honestly shocked he hasn’t stamped it on a hoodie yet.
“You say that like you’ll win,” I shoot back. Allie snickers next to me, and Zhao Lan turns his laser-beam glare on her before sliding his eyes back to me.
“We both know I’ll win,” he says, smirking like he’s delivering gospel truth. “I’m the smartest person with the highest IQ at Cadston.”
This time, I roll my eyes so hard they nearly disappear into my skull. How can someone be.this obnoxious, this pompous, and still manage to have the most punchable face on campus?
And if you’re wondering why I’m always the unlucky audience for his ego trips-well, it’s because Zhao Lan and I have the same GPA. I still remember the look on his face freshman year when he found out I had a perfect GPA too. Worse for him, I’m a girl.
He looked like I’d slapped him across the face with a hardcover economics textbook. Ever since, he’s made it his life’s mission to dethrone me or sabotage me. Spoiler: he’s failed. Year after year, I’ve proven him wrong.
But Zhao likes to pretend history doesn’t exist. He forgets the two competitions I smoked him in, and just keeps running around claiming he’s the smartest at Cadston. Selective amnesia at its finest.
I step closer and give his shoulder a patronizing pat, like he’s a toddler throwing a tantrum, and his eyes flick to my hand with disgust.
“Zhao, it must be exhausting lugging around all that pride in your oversized head,” I say sweetly.”
Why don’t you invent something useful like a product for people with abnormally large, inflated, egotistical heads? That way you could finally contribute something original.”
I start to turn when his voice stops me.
“Can you even afford the application fee?”
My head snaps back, and he’s grinning with all thirty-two teeth on display. My jaw tightens, fists clenching. I can take his jabs at my intelligence, but this? This is where I draw the line.
“You are-“
“Listen, dipshit.” Allie barges in, nearly poking him in the eye with her finger. Her voice rings down the hall, earning a few stares. “When my best friend wins this thing, I’ll personally remind you of this moment. And mark my words, you overcooked potato, she will win. You don’t stand a chance.”
Before I can even process, she grabs my arm and drags me out into the hallway. I stumble after her, still gaping, as she whirls around like she’s hoping her glare will actually light Zhao Lan on fire.
I bite back a laugh. “You didn’t have to go nuclear on him. You know that’s just… him.”
“Ugh.” She shakes her arms. “He makes my skin crawl with every word that comes out of his mouth.”
“Just forget about him,” I tell her. “He’s lucky I might not even enter for the grant.”
Allie stops dead in the middle of the hallway, her eyes wide like I’ve just told her I’m dropping out.” Excuse me, what?”
“Realistically…” I lick my lips, lowering my voice as a group of students brush past us, “this is impossible for someone like me. It takes at least ten grand to make a working prototype and file a patent. The application fee is already insane. How am I supposed to swing all that?”
“I’ll pay for it,” Allie blurts out.
I gasp, then grab her wrist without thinking. “Are you crazy?”
“You mean, am I serious?” She sticks her bottom lip out in a mock pout. “Or aren’t you about to say I’m the best best friend in the world? That’s what you meant, right?”
I draw back, searching her face. “What about you? Don’t you want to enter?”
“Please.” She waves her hand, rolling her eyes dramatically. “We both know I’m not winning this thing. You’re the genius. I’m the hype squad. Helping you win is my own way of winning.”
My mouth just hangs open for a second. I can’t believe she’d actually do this for me and at the same time, I’m stupidly touched. Before I even think about it, I grab her and hug her tight.
“Thank you,” I whisper into her hair. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Don’t you dare cry,” she says, pulling back and mock glaring at me. “Or lose. If you lose, you’re doing the dishes till we graduate. I’m talking all the dishes, even the ones from the nasty Tupperware I keep under my bed.”
I choke out a laugh, wiping at the corner of my eyes. “You’re not even a real human, Allie.”
“I’m dead serious,” she says, looping her arm through mine and dragging me toward our next class.
“Now come on, before Professor Larkin locks the door again.”
“We should decide who’ll be first speaker,” Lucy, our debate president, says, tapping her pen on the desk. “Boston wiped our asses last time, and I will not be happy if that happens again.”
“That was only because Katy was sick and didn’t show up with us,” Jackson mutters, leaning back in his chair, and looking bored. “We never lose when she’s with us.’
I bite back a smile. Honestly, I’m not usually one to soak up compliments and I think constantly boasting about yourself is lame but sometimes… sometimes it feels good to be acknowledged.
And let’s be real: I haven’t lost a single debate since freshman year. That’s a lot of victories to my name.
Lucy clears her throat. “Okay, let’s do this. Ngozi also wants first speaker, so we’ll do a quick three-minute roundoff between them.”
I nod and glance at Ngozi. She’s sitting there, all calm and perfectly put together like she’s stepping onto a TED Talk stage instead of a cramped debate room.
Ugh. Typical. I already know she’s going to give it her all, even if it’s just three minutes, and probably make it look effortless.
Lucy flips through her book for debate topics, muttering under her breath, and then perks up.
“Pro-choice vs. Pro-life: should abortion be a woman’s choice or morally impermissible?” she reads, loud enough for the whole room to groan or cheer. “Now, let’s pick papers.”
Ngozi stands immediately, polished as ever, and I follow, dragging my chair back. Lucy scribbles on two slips of paper and folds them.
My stomach does a little flip and I whisper please, please let me get Pro-choice, I mean, duh. It’s not just about winning; it’s about principle. A woman should get to make her own decisions about her body, and if I can sneak in a killer argument to back that up, I will.