Chapter 6: New Alliances, New Enemies

"Are you really going to sleep at Denny’s all summer?" Ben, for once, started the conversation—maybe he still felt guilty about the cheating incident.

His concern was touching. I shrugged, trying to play it cool.

"It’s hot now, so it’s fine," I dodged, planning to see a lawyer anyway.

He frowned, unconvinced. I could tell he wanted to help.

"How about I hire you for tutoring—$30 a session." He must have thought it over for a while.

I blinked, surprised by his offer. My heart warmed.

"Really, you don’t have to. The cheating thing wasn’t your fault… But honestly, I’m a great tutor!" I grabbed his hand excitedly. He glanced at my old test.

He tried to hide a smile, shaking his head.

I slapped my hand over it. "That 25 was just a fluke!"

He grinned, eyes sparkling.

"Alright."

He gave me his number, but I didn’t even have a phone. I went to Mrs. Hall for help, hoping she knew a lawyer.

Her office smelled like lavender and old books. I felt safe there, for the first time in a long while.

"Mr. Richards, my student is a minor—please help her as much as you can!" Mrs. Hall took my case as her own, running around for me.

Her advocacy was fierce, unwavering. I knew I owed her more than I could ever repay.

“When I get into Stanford, I’ll make sure they interview you!” I said gratefully.

She laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. I felt a surge of hope.

Mrs. Hall laughed. “I watched you get admitted here. High school is different from middle school. I don’t care which college you get into, as long as you try your best!” She thought I was joking—until the next day, when the results came out.

Her words echoed in my mind as I waited for the scores, nerves jangling.

“English, 142! Top ten in the county!” Mr. Douglas burst into the office early, excitedly announcing the news. Teachers crowded around to check, congratulating Ms. Sheridan when they saw the honors class.

The room erupted in cheers. I felt my heart leap into my throat.

Ms. Sheridan feigned modesty. "Oh, Nathaniel is just really good at English."

She preened, clearly expecting the credit to go to her star pupil.

She saw Nathaniel come in and clapped his shoulder. "Nice job! 142—rare even at Maple Heights High!"

Nathaniel couldn’t believe it—this test was tough. Maybe the grading was easy?

His confusion was almost comical. I bit back a laugh.

"I didn’t do that well…" He was habitually humble.

He ducked his head, shuffling his feet.

"If it’s not you, who else? Who in the honors class is that good at English?" Ms. Sheridan hadn’t even checked the name—just heard the class.

Her assumption was almost insulting. I braced myself for the reveal.

I heard the commotion from outside. Mrs. Hall led the way, and I followed confidently. Ms. Sheridan was pulling Nathaniel to check other scores when she saw me.

I felt the eyes of every teacher in the room. I stood tall, refusing to shrink.

"Nathaniel, 142, top in the grade!" she announced.

"Wait, Ms. Sheridan…" Mrs. Hall wanted to say something.

The room buzzed with confusion. I could feel the tension rising.

"No, Mrs. Hall, this was Maya’s idea! Our class can’t handle a star like her!" Mr. Grant had long resented me dragging down the average.

His voice was sharp, defensive. I rolled my eyes.

"Mr. Grant, can’t we let it go?" Nathaniel tried to mediate.

He sounded tired, defeated. I almost felt sorry for him.

What a show!

I couldn’t help but smirk. The drama was almost too much.

"Um, Mr. Grant, maybe you should check the scores!" Mr. Douglas stepped in. I’d already guessed the truth from Mrs. Hall’s smile.

The suspense was thick. I held my breath.

"English 142, Math 40, Science 40, History 30, Biology 29, Chemistry 30…"

The numbers tumbled out, each one a small victory.

Mrs. Hall broke the awkward silence. "Congratulations, Maya, your English is excellent!"

Her praise was genuine, warm. I felt my eyes sting with tears.

As for math, everyone knew Mr. Grant had messed me up. If you added in the time I lost, I’d have easily hit the next cutoff.

I shot Mr. Grant a look, daring him to argue. He looked away, embarrassed.

Mr. Grant went from pale to livid. “Impossible! She cheated!”

His accusation was weak, desperate. The other teachers exchanged glances.

"Mr. Grant! This was a custom mock exam—no answers online," another teacher whispered.

The truth was out. I let myself smile, just a little.

The teachers argued. Nathaniel stood there, crushed. "Mr. Grant, now do you see? I never asked Nathaniel about English, let alone seduced him! I can’t stand him—every second I see him, I feel sick!" Thinking of his coldness, my wasted years, my miscarriage, I was furious.

My voice shook, but I didn’t care. The truth needed to be said.

"Mr. Grant didn’t investigate, but Maya, don’t be upset. I’ll have him apologize!" Mr. Douglas remembered my entrance scores.

His voice was kind, almost paternal. I felt a lump rise in my throat.

"I don’t need an apology. I just want to transfer."

The words felt like freedom. I was finally breaking away.

Nathaniel staggered out, having lost first place in English for the first time. But this was just the beginning—I was going to knock him down, turn him from a small-town test ace to a small-town mistake collector!

I watched him go, feeling a strange mix of triumph and sadness.

I went to Ms. Sheridan. "Thank you for your help, teacher. Can I join the English competition?"

Her eyes lit up. I could tell she was proud, even if she didn’t say it.

Ms. Sheridan, having produced a top scorer, was happy either way. "Of course. I always knew you had potential!"

Her words warmed me. I felt seen, finally.

"But there’s only one spot, and you and Nathaniel are in the same class…"

The competition was fierce, but I was ready.

Mr. Grant, somehow hearing about it, dragged Nathaniel over to object. "One test doesn’t prove anything! Nathaniel has always been top!"

His voice was shrill, desperate. I stood my ground.

Ms. Sheridan hesitated, so I asked Mr. Douglas to bring the other English teachers for an on-the-spot contest.

The challenge was set. I felt a surge of excitement.

I’d threatened Nathaniel’s interests, and he was both hurt and resentful. "What did I ever do to you, besides that one time? Why are you doing this?"

His voice was small, almost pleading. I met his gaze, unflinching.

The English competition could earn extra points.

I let the implication hang in the air. We both knew what was at stake.

“It’s all for the school!” I shot back.

I grinned, letting the sarcasm show.

"You’ll only end up losing," he shot back.

His words bounced off me. I was unbreakable now.

Soon, other students gathered to watch.

The crowd buzzed, hungry for drama.

They sneered: "She gets first once and thinks she’s hot stuff. What a joke!"

"She used to be at the bottom and dares challenge the top student?"

"Who knows if she cheated!"

Their words rolled off me. I was used to being underestimated.

"Here’s a TOEFL speaking prompt. Read it and answer."

The teachers handed over the prompt, their eyes expectant.

TOEFL vocabulary is far beyond high school, but not grammar-heavy—perfect for me. Last time, I memorized the list for fun. Too bad Nathaniel never knew, only that he’d done competition training.

I took a deep breath, centering myself. This was my moment.

"Give up now, before you embarrass yourself," he warned.

His confidence was brittle. I smiled, letting it slide.

Nathaniel went first—confident, with vocabulary far above high school level. He handled all five sections well, and the teachers nodded.

His performance was solid, but I could see the nerves in his hands.

"Get off the stage! Don’t embarrass yourself!" Chloe jeered, her group laughing along.

Their laughter was sharp, but I ignored it.

"With those shabby clothes, you don’t belong in a competition!"

“No matter how you dress, you still look like you shop the clearance bin…”

I took the stage, speaking fluent English, using advanced vocabulary and local slang with ease. Working in fancy restaurants for years paid off. The teachers smiled—I knew I’d won this round!

Their nods were subtle, but I saw the pride in their eyes. I felt light, unstoppable.

Nathaniel, this time, I’ll break your wings. No way you’re getting into college!

I also managed to transfer to Mrs. Hall’s class. Everything was looking up, except for losing Ben as my deskmate. I promised myself I’d help him with math over summer break!

I missed his quiet presence, but I knew we’d keep in touch.

"Maya, the court has accepted your case. Since the ownership is clear, you’ll get a quick decision," Mr. Richards told me.

His voice was calm, professional. I felt a wave of relief.

"Please help me sell the apartment—I don’t want to live there anymore."

I let the past go with those words. I was ready to start over.

Right after I hung up, instead of seeing Ben, I ran into grandma and Evan. He was released after a few days with a warning, since he was underage and it was only an attempt. Two stout middle-aged relatives were with them.

Their presence was like a bad penny—always turning up when least wanted.

"You brat, drop the lawsuit! The house should go to the boy—why do you need it?" Grandma started with her usual insults.

Her words were sharp, but I was immune by now.

"Tell it to the court." I packed my books and tried to leave. Evan grabbed my bag, but I stared him down. His face quivered and he let go.

My glare was icy. He shrank back, defeated.

"If I see you again, I’ll beat you every time!" I threatened.

He flinched, but didn’t argue. The aunts looked scandalized.

The couple blocked my way. “Maya Brooks, right? We’re your grandma’s distant relatives—just here to mediate…” the heavyset aunt spoke up, acting familiar. “You go to school, we won’t stop you. When you get married, your brother will walk you out—we’re all family!”

Their fake smiles made my skin crawl. I sidestepped, refusing to play along.

They were just after benefits. Grandma was willing to sell me out for these distant relatives, all for the sake of the family name. Was I supposed to be grateful just for being allowed to go to school?

The injustice of it all burned. I stood tall, refusing to bow.

I felt a pang of sadness. "No room for negotiation. From now on, we’re strangers!"

My words were final. I saw the shock in their eyes.

The aunt tried to grab me, but I dodged and yelled, "Kidnapper!" Security soon arrived and kicked them out.

Their protests faded down the hallway. I let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through me.

Before they left, I told the aunt, "Don’t come looking for me again, or your son will never have kids. Try me. If you stop now, you’ll still get your share from grandma."

Her eyes widened, but she backed off. Sometimes, you have to fight fire with fire.

A few days later, Mr. Richards said the deal was done. Grandma and I each got half. The aunt bought the apartment at half price, and I suddenly had $45,000. As for how the aunt would treat grandma, that was her problem.

The money felt surreal. I ran my fingers over the check, barely believing it was real.

I heard the garage downstairs had been converted into a little room, but who for?

I shrugged. It wasn’t my problem anymore.

With the money, I bought a phone and apologized to Ben. "I didn’t have a phone before—sorry for missing our first tutoring session."

His reply was quick, his voice softer than usual.

"I was worried, so I asked the store for the security footage," he said, uncharacteristically concerned. "Besides your grandma, who were those people? You said you trusted me—can you tell me?"

His eyes were earnest, searching. I felt my walls crumble.

Facing Ben’s worried eyes, I gave in and told him everything.

The relief was immediate. He listened, silent and steady.

"Want me to help?" He was angrier than usual, not his usual cool self.

His fists clenched, jaw tight. I smiled, touched by his protectiveness.

I couldn’t help pinching his cheek. "I can handle it. After all, I’m almost thirty—he’s just a little brother to me."

He blushed, looking away. I felt a flutter in my chest.

I didn’t expect that little gesture to make him blush. "If you do that, I’ll get the wrong idea…"

His eyes were full of burning emotion—no way I didn’t feel it.

My cheeks warmed. I looked away, pretending not to notice.

But I still had things to do, so I played it off. "It’s senior year—no time for misunderstandings!"

He laughed, the tension easing. I was grateful for his presence.

To change the subject, I invited him to help me teach Evan a lesson. But Ben was in a bad mood that day, which led to…

"Let me go! Stop hitting me!" Evan screamed. As footsteps approached in the alley, Ben grabbed my hand and we ran.

We burst into the sunlight, breathless and laughing. The thrill of it lingered, a secret between us.

"Haha, that felt good! Thanks!" I leaned against the wall, out of breath. Ben’s eyes were bright, his usual calmness restored.

He grinned, hair tousled, cheeks flushed. I felt my heart skip a beat.

"After the SATs, once we’re in college, I want you to explain that ‘misunderstanding.’"

Uh… he still remembered?

I laughed, a little nervous. Maybe I wanted him to remember.

We set our tutoring schedule, and I rented a place, filling my days with study. Effort sets your floor, talent your ceiling. Getting into Stanford isn’t just talk. I slept only 3–4 hours a night, studying nonstop.

The exhaustion was bone-deep, but I was driven by something bigger than revenge—hope.

Summer ended quickly. On the first day back, I gave Ben a farewell gift. "We won’t be deskmates next term—here’s a present."

He looked up and tapped his test paper. "I didn’t get you anything."

I smiled, ruffling his hair. "Getting into a top university is the best gift you could give me!" I smiled like a proud mom.

He rolled his eyes, but I saw the pride in his smile.

"So old-fashioned!" He ruffled my hair.

The gesture was gentle, affectionate. My cheeks warmed.

The next day, I found Ben in Mrs. Hall’s class.

He grinned, sliding into the seat beside me. "My dad’s donating another building—might as well use the privilege." He opened a math test. "These two are tough! Another set you bought with your own money?"

His tone was teasing, but I could see the gratitude in his eyes.

I was hooked. "Let me see how I do."

I grabbed the test, eager to prove myself.

Math rewards time—you get what you put in. Away from Mr. Grant’s class, Ben and I thrived under Mrs. Hall. It was a regular class, moderate difficulty, but Mrs. Hall let us self-study and gave us extra help in the evenings. It suited me perfectly.

Her support was steady, unwavering. I felt myself growing, lesson by lesson.

I watched my grades climb, getting closer to Nathaniel. Ben improved steadily too.

We celebrated each small victory, high-fiving over test scores and shared snacks.