CHAPTER TWENTY #2
There was a collective groan. I, myself, debated fleeing before I had the chance to get up on stage. There were eleven students in front of me. If I left at that very moment, no one would know. But something gave me pause.
“The winner,” Dr Graham said, “will earn a personal recommendation for the Dean's Merit Award. This will open many opportunities for you, including scholarships, paid fieldwork, and extra credit. Not to mention an exclusive dinner with the Dean and Dawnridge's Psychology Board."
A personal recommendation. For the Dean's Merit Award. For the scholarship. This could be my ticket in. If I had a recommendation, and my grades were good, how could they possibly refuse? I would have security. I would be able to breathe, knowing I was set on the right path.
Interest flooded the room as many students became more enthusiastic about the challenge.
One by one, students from both teams were called up to the stage to answer a question. Topics ranged from popular culture, animals, history, science, politics, sport, and, of course, psychology.
The first five players on my team had lost to a tall, dark-skinned male with short black hair, his lips pulled up into a polite smile with every correct answer that rolled off his tongue.
That same smile faded, however, when the sixth player on my team beat him, only to last one round before she too was booted off the stage.
As my turn neared, my stomach flipped erratically.
Sweat moistened my hands. Heat flamed my cheeks.
I needed a bathroom, desperately. Taking deep breaths, hands fluttering at my sides, I focused on my end goal and what winning would mean for me.
I needed to do this. For myself. And for Auden’s future.
Player eleven was eliminated and it was my turn to grace the stage.
I approached on shaky legs, doing my best to focus on my opponent and no one else.
She was a tall young woman with long black waves that rolled down to her elbows, black-framed glasses magnifying her brown eyes.
She had surpassed the last six players on my team, and she looked me up and down like she would surpass me too.
“Your question is…” Dr Graham started, reading from a card in his hands. “…how many ribs does a human skeleton have?”
“Twenty-four!” I answered instantly, my voice louder than I intended due to the adrenaline hammering through my veins.
“Correct!” Graham boomed, satisfaction flooding through me at the glower on my opponent's face.
I watched her walk off, one leg shifting from the other. This was it. If I could make it through every question thrown at me, I really could win that recommendation.
Each student from the right side came up and then went back down.
The questions seemed to be in my favour, answers pouring from my tongue before my opponent could even part their lips.
The recommendation was within my grasp. I was going to win.
I had almost dethroned every member of the right team when he stepped up.
He approached with an air of confidence I hadn’t seen in any of my previous opponents.
Hands tucked into his grey trousers, a sage knitted vest over the top of his white collared shirt, he stepped up onto the stage, his tall frame towering over mine.
His black hair flopped over his forehead, parting in the middle to reveal clear, smooth skin above his chestnut, oval brown eyes.
Bow-shaped lips pulled into a smile, he held out his hand to me and wished me luck.
Caught a little off guard, I shook his hand silently before averting my gaze.
“The question is…which planet in our solar system has the most volcanoes?”
My mind blanked and my opponent answered with a carefree, “Venus, Sir.”
“Correct!”
Heat climbed to my cheeks, every cell in my body forming a protest as I glared at my opponent—glared at the one responsible for snatching my win.
He gave me a wink and a smirk as I walked off stage, and my body only burned hotter.
I wanted to gouge out his eyeballs and slice the smirk right off his face.
Instead, I dumped myself into my seat with a scowl and watched my opponent beat every single person from my team as though the questions were designed purely for him.
“Well, it seems we have a clear winner,” Dr Graham announced with a pleased smile as he gestured to my tall, smiling opponent. “Can I get a round of applause for my first recommendation, Nathaniel Carrington!”
***
The first semester at Dawnridge was overwhelming.
Late nights cramming for exams. Early mornings skim reading the required articles for a nine am class.
Assignments submitted seconds before the midnight deadline.
Between work and study, I rarely had time for my art.
Sketchbooks lay abandoned on my bedroom floor; paint brushes dry from disuse.
But the intense study load was worth it.
I was at the top of every class—except one.
In Introduction to Psychological Studies, I was ranked second.
Ranks were exclusive to Dawnridge University.
To 'encourage competitiveness' that would lead to 'patterns of success.
' It only made me anxious. I needed to be number one, but there was one student who bested me in every assignment.
One student who buzzed around like a fly I could not squash.
Nathaniel Carrington.
And to make matters worse, he wasn’t even a psychology student. He was in his second year of medicine and had selected Introduction to Psychological Studies as an elective. He was electively beating me.
His hand was always raised to answer a question—a long, over-explained response that should have been five words at most—shifting in his chair to face the rest of us as though he were our teacher.
I often had the urge to tear his arm from his socket and slap him right across the face with it.
Instead, I took notes of every word that rolled off his tongue, underlining words I intended to find the definitions of so I could reassure myself I wasn't all that far behind.
I could be his equal, if I tried hard enough. No, I could be better.
You couldn't even best Alexander, and Nathaniel is smarter than him.
He laughed at Professor Graham's jokes, insisted on calling him doctor, and requested further reading material at the end of every class.
I remained behind, pretending to take extra time packing my bag, when I was really recording every title that Professor Graham recommended Nathaniel. I couldn't let him get ahead.
No one else seemed to share my disdain. He was popular, a swarm of wasps he called friends always around him as though he were a rare flower they needed to pollinate. Even those who weren’t a part of his friend group seemed to worship him, congratulating him on every success.
As part of our second assignment, we were required to respond to at least three students' discussion posts. And, of course, he chose mine to interrogate.
His condescending, and incorrect response contradicted every statement I made.
It wasn’t a requirement to defend ourselves in the comments, but I did anyway, dismissing all his counter arguments with evidence from multiple peer-reviewed articles.
If there was one thing I always insisted on being, it was right.
Unfortunately, Nathaniel appeared to share this mindset, for he responded once more, using his own ‘evidence’ to support his incorrect claims. This back-and-forth continued all night, the discussion board flooded with our repeated arguments.
In the end, Nathaniel ended our debate with: ‘Let’s agree to disagree. ’
We hadn’t spoken in person, not since he won Professor Graham’s personal recommendation.
I doubted he even realised that the Augustus Saint he had argued with on the discussion board was the same one he’d faced that very first day.
I probably never even crossed his mind, just a dark cloud being chased out of his sunlight.
He had certainly crossed mine, though. And it wasn’t even just about securing the Dean's Merit Award or the scholarship.
It was about knocking him off his golden throne; about making him sweat.
I wanted him to have to fight for that number one ranking, for everything else seemed to come to him so easily.
I watched him sit in the front row of every class, friends circling him like birds waiting to be thrown a bite of bread. They craved his attention, waiting for a smile or a laugh, or even just a glance.
A permanent scowl on my face deterred anyone from sitting near me. I did not care. I was used to not having friends. And the friends I did make were only temporary, so what was the point? I was not like Nathaniel. I did not need an ensemble of adoring fans.
I built a cage around my heart and gave no one the key.