A Fool's College Admission

I tilted my head and looked at his face, twisted with anger.

“Are you upset because you want the spot too?”

The classroom went silent for one second.

Then everyone exploded.

“Oh my God. Did Mason seriously just ask Lucas if he wants it?”

“This idiot really has no fear.

“Lucas is fighting for fairness. Who would want an admission spot that someone supposedly slept their way into to get?”

Lucas’s face turned bright red.

He slammed his palm against a desk, his voice rising sharply.

“Me? Want it?

“I’ve ranked in the top three every year. Why would I need to use some disgusting backdoor deal?”

Then he turned toward the class and raised his voice.

“You hear that? Not only did he cheat, he’s insulting everyone who actually worked for this!

“For the sake of the class, we can’t let someone like him ruin the school’s reputation.”

He pointed at me.

“Mason, do you dare admit that you bought the answers for the competition?”

The class started chanting along with him.

Someone threw a chunk of eraser at me.

Then Ms. Turner, our homeroom teacher, walked in carrying a thick stack of papers.

She saw the whole scene.

But instead of stopping it, she slammed the papers onto the teacher’s desk.

“Mason, since everyone has questions, prove yourself.

“This is a newly released state Olympiad practice exam. It’s harder than the competition you won.

“If you can solve it, I’ll stop contesting your direct-admission offer.”

Lucas folded his arms, looking pleased with himself.

Everyone knew the exam was brutal. The final questions were at national-Olympiad level.

I walked to the front of the room and took the paper.

The second I read the first question, the formulas in my head began arranging themselves automatically.

Ten minutes later, I handed in my answers.

Every step was sound.

Every answer was correct.

Ms. Turner stared at the paper.

For a long time, she could not say a word.

She compared it to the answer key again and again, sweat beginning to gather along her hairline.

I turned toward Lucas, whose face had gone dark.

I remembered he had said he was helping me.

So I thanked him sincerely.

“Thank you, Lucas.

“If you hadn’t suggested it, Ms. Turner wouldn’t have given me a chance to prove I was telling the truth.

“You’re a really helpful classmate.”

Lucas shook with rage.

His finger trembled as he pointed at me.

He wanted to argue.

But he had nothing left to say.

Ms. Turner stared at me. There was no admiration in her eyes.

Only something cold.

“Mason, even if your grades are real, your behavior still needs to be evaluated.

“To make it easier for us to keep an eye on you, you’ll be moving seats.”

They moved me to the very back of the classroom.

The desk and chair were covered in sharp-smelling black ink.

Someone had scrawled one word across the middle of the desktop.

**FREAK.**

Lucas stood nearby, covering his mouth as he laughed.

A few boys from the football team walked past me, whistling loudly.

One of them was holding my competition binder, every page filled with notes.

“Oops. Slipped.”

He gave an exaggerated gasp.

Then he tossed it neatly into the filthy mop bucket in the corner.

The classroom erupted again.

I turned around and went to the faculty office.

I told Ms. Turner exactly what had happened.

She was grading papers with her head down.

She did not even look at me.

“Why did they throw yours away and not anyone else’s?”