Chapter 1. In Which I Cause the Apocalypse #3
Today, though, I might beat him for the first time solely due to circumstance. Luca is late, begging to be given a shot. A head judge would never leave halfway through my presentation, even if it’s to go back and fix the order of presenters—
Silently, Professor Hiller drifts away from me.
My brow lifts in shock. A pit forms in my stomach as my eyes follow his journey to Luca’s designated spot. The crowd isn’t far behind him.
Luca rushes to follow and clumsily sets his poster board on the easel.
“You’re a real one, Professor. I’m Luca Melendez, by the way, representing New York Long Island.
Today, I’m mad excited to discuss my project: There Is an I in Team: How Team Egotism Influences NHL Success in Professional Hockey. ”
Sports.
Of course.
I swipe my smoothie from its spot on the floor and bite at the straw to help release some nerves. More goo drips on my hands. The paper cup has nearly deteriorated since my anxiety-induced grip made it overflow. Awesome.
I take a deep breath. The professor will come back. I’ll argue that my three minutes should be reset so I can start from the top.
I try to listen in on Luca’s presentation, but the words get swallowed by symposium noise as he faces farther areas of his board, leaving me with meaningless bits and pieces. Team coordination. Adverse influence.
Professor Hiller’s straw-like brows rise, his cynicism morphing into total captivation. The crowd that Luca stole from me acts the same way. With me, they only seemed curious about what I might say and if it would live up to their expectation of the Prince Kid.
But now they’re enraptured by Luca. Rooting for him.
As Luca’s three minutes come to an end, Professor Hiller is nodding at his clipboard in approval, and his lip is curled in a way that no other contestant has likely seen today.
After a few obligatory formal exchanges with Luca, he starts to return to my board so that I can continue.
So that I can prove I’m still better than Luca to every other competitor. To Mom and Dad. To the world.
Yet Professor Hiller keeps walking past.
I lift a finger to catch him. “Excuse me, Professor, I didn’t finish my presentation.”
Professor Hiller slows his pace. “I heard enough.”
The world screeches to a halt.
I fight to stop the building pressure behind my eyes from turning into tears. “If you’ll just let me finish, I located thirteen new planets—”
“And what does that matter, at the end of the day, when you find yourself surrounded by these new planets and nothing else?”
“I’m sorry?”
“There is no passion in this work. Look around to those who are exhibiting such.” He flicks his gaze toward Luca’s designated spot. “Scientifically and mathematically, your work is impressive. Enough for second place, but not enough to beat out a presentation built from the heart.”
His words stun me into silence.
No passion. I’ve shown passion at these competitions since elementary school. Before any of these other contestants could fathom two plus two.
He’s wrong.
“I’m the Prince Kid” is all I can think to say back. I try to lace it with a threat, try to convey that my parents will find out about this, even if it’s pathetic. Anything to save me from the crushing disappointment that will be waiting for me when I see Mom and Dad after a loss this monumental.
Professor Hiller keeps walking away.
Laughter bursts behind me.
The audience Luca stole from my presentation, watching me again. Watching Professor Hiller leave me. Watching The Plan slip out of my fingers.
Because I try and try. All I do is try.
But I can’t keep pace with Luca.
And Luca has never had to try. His smile, his charm, his “chill” demeanor—it all makes him beloved. It cancels out his self-absorbed nature. He’s allowed to interrupt my presentation. He can arrive embarrassingly late. No pitchforks are drawn in the way they would be if I behaved like that.
Humiliation churns inside me, built up over the last three long years.
This is what I get. After working nonstop on this project for months to prove Mom wrong, to show that the planets and the stars do matter and that they can make The Plan happen.
After riskily disregarding every other summer internship to focus on this one chance to earn a spot at Harvard’s high school program.
Every part of my mind flashes white—blank—wiping away all the rules that hang over me like a heavy cloud, destroying all the control that media training has ingrained in me. I pick up my smoothie.
I take a step forward. Wind the soggy cup back.
And throw it at the back of Luca’s head.
Thick mush splatters across his hair. Chunks roll down his neck and into the collar of his hockey uniform. Drips land on his bright white shoes, permanently dyeing them pink.
Slowly, Luca turns around. For the first time, he looks me in the eye.
The crowds lock on me, too. So do their phones.
My hand remains in midair as every piece of me freezes, the weight of what I’ve done fully sinking through me.
If Luca didn’t know who I was before, he does now.