Everyone Thought I Was Just a Pretty Face

The whole school knows me as the vapid school belle who's nothing but a pretty face. During homeroom, I'm busy curling my bangs. Between classes, I'm busy reapplying sunscreen. If my uniform has even one wrinkle, I refuse to wear it. If my backpack feels too heavy, I refuse to carry it. Even during monthly exams, I apply lip gloss first, then wait for the final bell to turn in a blank paper. The top student in our grade, Sasha Lane, can't stand me. She often mocks, "Being pretty does nothing for you if you never apply yourself in your studies. On a real exam, you'd probably worry more about fixing your makeup than reading the questions." Then the National Scholastic League kicks off, and the school's foundation gives us an ultimatum. My high school, Greenwood High School, has come in second place in the league ten years in a row. If we don't win the championship this time, the foundation will pull out, and all 2,000 students will be out of a school. The catch is, the league requires every school's final team member to be picked at random. And this time, they pick me. The moment word gets out, the students at the neighboring Brookstone High School lose it. "They're actually sending the airhead who turns in blank tests? Greenwood might as well shut down now." In the final round, Brookstone takes nine questions in a row. Greenwood's three strongest competitors are eliminated one after another. Sasha fills three pages of scratch work and still can't crack the final ten challenge problems. There are only 30 seconds to go. The principal grips the school's charter so tightly that his knuckles have gone white, and the teachers look ready to panic. Brookstone's team captain can't resist taking a shot. "Greenwood still has a beauty queen, right? Send her up. At least you'll lose with a pretty face onstage." The whole auditorium bursts into laughter. The noise gives me a headache, so I put down my lip gloss, take the buzzer, and tap in a few answers. A second later, the system starts chiming nonstop. The scoreboard goes wild, and the lights for all ten questions turn green. We get a perfect score. Chapter 1 I was standing at the back of the line at morning assembly, reapplying my sunscreen, when the foundation's ultimatum was announced. The September sun was so harsh that it was hard to keep my eyes open. I held up a small mirror and carefully checked the sides of my nose. "This side isn't blended." I handed the mirror to my deskmate. "I need to add a bit more, or my face is gonna be two different shades." Every head around me snapped toward me. The dean of students, Mr. White, stood on the assembly platform, still clutching the foundation's notice. His lips twitched. In the end, he just couldn't hold it in. He said, "Geraldine, the foundation just gave us their ultimatum. If Greenwood doesn't win the National Scholastic League this time, we're losing all our funding next semester. Over 2,000 students might not have a school to come back to, and you're worried about a tan?" I looked up. "Morning assembly is school-mandated. It's not like I'm banned from wearing sunscreen just because the foundation's gonna cut us off, right?" Mr. White's face turned red with anger. Sasha Lane snatched my mirror away, her expression ice-cold. "Enough already. If she gets even the slightest sunburn, she'll complain about it all day. Let her finish, or she's just gonna whine later that her face hurts." With that, she squeezed out a blob of sunscreen and smeared it right onto the tip of my nose. I hurriedly dodged. "Easy there. You'll rub my face raw." "Shut up." She glared at me. "Settle down for just five minutes, will you? The teachers are all busy trying to save the school. No one has time to orbit around you." I stepped back into place in the line. For all her trash talk, I knew she couldn't stand seeing me suffer. Last week when it rained, she shoved her umbrella into my hands and ran back to the school building without it, getting soaked. Then, with that same cold expression, she said she just didn't want to listen to me complain about my freshly curled hair going flat. The principal, Mr. Brown, stood on the assembly platform, too. He clearly hadn't slept all night; his voice was shot. The foundation had been funding Greenwood High School for ten years. The cafeteria, the dorms, the scholarships, and most of the teachers' salaries all depended on that money. But the sponsorship agreement made it clear that within those ten years, Greenwood had to win the National Scholastic League at least once. For nine straight years, the championship had gone to our rival, Brookstone High School. This year was our last shot. If we lost, the foundation would pull out, and Greenwood would have to shut down for lack of funds. The teachers argued for ages over what to do. Some suggested cutting all the humanities programs and pouring everything into the STEM team. Some wanted to bring in retired competitors as emergency coaches. But no matter what plan they came up with, they couldn't get around Brookstone's powerhouse team that had taken the title nine years running. Right then, the competition coach, Louis Coolidge, hurried onto the platform and set a packet of papers in front of Mr. Brown. "Mr. Brown, the committee just released the official rules." Everyone immediately straightened up. Mr. Brown asked, "Can our three starters still compete?" "Yes." "Any major changes?" "The first three rounds are the same. They just added a final lightning round." Several teachers exhaled in relief. Sasha was the top of the grade and handled the all-around questions. Joe Wells had once taken first place in a national physics competition. Chris Zeller had consistently ranked among the top three math students in the entire city. They'd been training together for two years. As long as they performed at their usual level, Greenwood actually had a shot. But Louis still looked grim. Sasha could tell something was wrong and asked, "Is there more to it?" "Yeah." Louis flipped to the last page of the packet. "This year, every team has to have four competitors. The school chooses the first three, but the last one is randomly drawn from the senior class by the system." Mr. Brown's stomach dropped. "Who did we draw?" Louis didn't answer right away. He lifted his head, his gaze traveling past the whole student body until it landed on me. "Class 7, senior year, Geraldine Walker." The tension that had just started to ease snapped tight again in an instant. Mr. White went pale, and Sasha shot to her feet. She said, "We need a redraw." "The committee already announced the results. No substitutions are allowed," Louis said tiredly. "She's never answered a single question on any of the monthly exams!" "I know." "She doesn't even fill in the multiple-choice bubbles!" "But rules are rules." The big screen by the athletic field was showing the league's official livestream. When Brookstone's team heard the draw results, they burst out laughing. Someone even grabbed the mic and deliberately asked, "Greenwood's feeling pretty confident, aren't they? They're even sending a pretty face who turns in blank tests." Their captain, Hugo Jensen, drawled, "Guess being pretty is a talent, too. Even if Greenwood tanks, at least their promo photos will look good." The livestream chat was full of laughing emojis, but none of our students joined in. They just stared at me, their gazes heavy enough to be suffocating. The foundation representative snapped his folder shut. "If Geraldine competes, Greenwood keeps its shot at the championship. If she refuses, it'll be treated as a voluntary forfeit, and the sponsorship agreement ends immediately. Please confirm your final roster by midnight tonight." Mr. Brown's hand clenched around the registration form. "Geraldine, we're not asking you to score any points. You just need to show up, sit in the last seat, and keep your hands off the buzzer. Can you do that?" Everyone was watching me. I slowly closed my compact and said, "I'm not participating." Chapter 2 "Geraldine!" Mr. White was so anxious that his voice cracked. "The tuition for over 2,000 students is at stake here. This isn't the time for you to throw a tantrum!" "I'm not." I lowered my head and checked my phone. "The competition starts at 8:00 am, but I don't get to school until 8:30 am every day. The time doesn't work for me." Louis said, "You can just wake up earlier on that day." "My face will be puffy if I don't get enough sleep." "Is that more important than the school's survival?" "They're equally important." Mr. White clutched his chest in frustration. Sasha didn't rip into me, though. She picked up the competition rules and flipped through them. "Does she have to be present throughout?" "Yes." "Can she just sit through the first three rounds without answering any questions?" "She can." "And in the final round?" "If the other three team members have been eliminated, she has to step in." Sasha frowned. "If we can stick it out until the final round, she won't need to do anything." Louis blinked in thought. "In theory, yes." Mr. Brown said, "As long as she's willing to compete, I can arrange for everyone to adjust to her schedule. We'll have breakfast sent to the lounge, and we'll put her seat somewhere out of the sun." Louis frowned. "Mr. Brown, you don't have to spoil her like that. This is a competition, not a beauty pageant." I twisted open a bottle of mineral water, took a sip, then set it back down. "It's too cold." A few of the teachers' faces darkened at the same time. Sasha finally snapped. "Geraldine, can you please get your priorities straight? On a normal day, nobody will call you out when you complain about the wrinkles on your uniform, that the classroom's too sunny, or that a light breeze will mess up your bangs. But this time is different. If the foundation pulls out, many students won't even be able to finish senior year." I said softly, "If I do compete… I won't necessarily make you lose." Sasha didn't expect that. "What's that supposed to mean?" I opened my mouth, then just shook my head. "It's nothing." I didn't explain further. I wasn't actually an airhead. As the Walker family's sole heiress, I'd been forced into one lesson after another ever since I was a child. My schedule had been so packed that I practically had to squeeze in time to breathe. Two years earlier, I'd finally managed to transfer into Greenwood High School with Mom covering for me. To avoid being dragged back home to take over a multibillion-dollar family empire, I'd started handing in blank tests on purpose and playing the dunce. But this competition would be broadcast nationwide. The second I showed what I could really do, Grandpa would track me down. At that point, forget a carefree life—I probably wouldn't even make it past Greenwood's front gate. If I said any of this out loud, everyone would just think I was bragging to make myself look good. It wasn't time for that yet. Louis checked his watch. "We've only got two hours left before we have to submit the roster. If Geraldine doesn't sign the form, Greenwood won't even have the right to step onto the stage." Mr. Brown was quiet for a moment. "Try the organizers one more time. Ask if we can swap her out, or at least let the fourth member just sign in without actually participating." Louis nodded. "Got it. I'll call them right now." He stepped aside to make the call. Mr. Brown didn't push me anymore, but the entire student body remained where they were out on the field. Not a single one walked away. Chapter 3 An hour later, the organizers finally replied. No substitutions or no-shows were allowed, and the fourth contestant had to be present the entire time. Their notice came with the foundation's final confirmation letter. Greenwood would only stay in the competition if the roster was submitted by midnight. If the deadline was missed, the funding would be stopped. Once the news spread to every class, everyone blew up. The doorway was jam-packed with people when I returned to my classroom. Evie Snow stood in my way, her eyes red. "Geraldine, my mom's raising me and my younger brother on her own. Without the financial aid, I'll have to drop out next semester." The boy behind her spoke up quietly. "My dad was in a car crash last year. Everything we had went into his treatment. I'm only one semester away from graduating. You don't even have to answer the questions. Just sit there. Please?" More and more people crowded around. Some were panicking, and some were terrified. Some just stared at the curling iron in my hand and muttered, "The school's about to go under, and she's still fussing with her bangs. I know she's always been high-maintenance, but can't she compromise this once?" Sasha stepped in front of me. "That's enough. The drawing was random; she didn't choose this. Even if the school loses its funding, the blame shouldn't be pinned on one student." Evie's tears spilled over. "But what else can we do?" Sasha fell silent. If there had been any other way, she wouldn't have spent the last hour grilling everyone on every contest rule for me. Mr. Brown pushed through the crowd. In just one hour, he looked like he'd aged another few years. He said, "Geraldine, we've reached out to everyone we can reach, but the organizers refuse to bend the rules." His voice was hoarse. "I'm the principal. I can't just stand by and watch over 2,000 students get kicked out of school." I nodded. "I get it." He looked away and didn't try to talk me into anything else. Sasha picked up the registration form, but she didn't hand it over just yet. Instead, she turned to Louis and said, "On the day of the competition, make sure her uniform is properly pressed. And make sure the waiting area is away from the AC vent. The lounge needs a mirror, a humidifier, and warm water." He was taken aback, but he still started mentally taking note of it. Sasha, on the other hand, grabbed a pen and paper. I watched as the list grew longer. "You're being pretty thorough." Her pen paused. "I don't like you, but you were picked at random. It's not like you're trying to screw the school over." She unzipped her bag and shoved a bottle of sunscreen into my hands. "Take this. The lights at the venue are harsh. The last thing we need is you throwing a fit about touching up your makeup and sunscreen halfway through." The box dug awkwardly into my palm. I looked over at Louis. "When do they release the last ten questions?" "Once the final round starts." "Do they all go up on the big screen at once?" "Yeah." "And anyone can answer them?" "The fourth contestant only steps in after the other three get eliminated." He frowned. "Wait. Why are you asking all this?" "I just need to make sure those last ten questions all show up on the screen at the same time," I said. "The rules spell it out pretty clearly." "I want it in black and white." His expression darkened. "Dozens of schools are waiting for this thing to start. The organizers aren't gonna roll out the questions early just for you." Sasha pushed the registration form back to him. "She's not wrong to ask." Louis looked over at her. "What part of this is right?" "She's a contestant. She has the right to confirm the rules." Mr. Brown hesitated, then nodded. "Have the organizers send over the official procedure." Louis tightened his grip on his phone. Soon, a schedule stamped with an electronic seal popped up on the big screen. During the final round, the ten tie-breaker questions would be released all at once, with a 30-second time limit. For each correct answer, ten points would be awarded. And for each wrong one, ten points would be deducted. I skimmed it, then flipped my compact shut again. All ten questions appearing together made things so much easier. Chapter 4 On the day of the competition, the organizers double-checked the roster to make sure there were no issues. The buzzers were also inspected on the spot by teachers from every school for defects or problems. Hugo sat at the station next to ours and lazily glanced my way. "Oh, you actually came." I nodded. "Yeah." "I heard you usually sleep in till 8:30 am. Aren't you tired, being up this early today?" "A little." "Do you even know how to use the buzzer?" "I just press the option I want, right?" He laughed. "More or less." Several of Greenwood's teachers sighed in frustration. Meanwhile, I asked seriously, "Can I reapply sunscreen during the competition?" "You can't leave your seat once the round starts." "What about lip gloss?" "No." Sasha cut in, her voice firm. "That's enough." As if she were afraid she might change her mind, she simply took my makeup bag away. "I'll hold on to this. You can put on whatever you want after the competition." I lowered my head and didn't argue. The first three rounds began soon after. In round one, Joe buzzed in first on three questions in a row. On the fourth, he got too aggressive trying to close the gap, missed twice in succession, and was eliminated. Chris managed to earn 20 points back for Greenwood, but Brookstone deliberately snatched up the math questions he was strongest at, forcing him to buzz in on a biology question outside his comfort zone. The light flashed red, and Greenwood lost another contestant. That left only Sasha and me. Before she went up, Sasha handed me a bottle of room-temperature water. "Don't be nervous. Just sit here. That's all you have to do." I looked down at my seat—my neatly pressed school blazer, a compact mirror, a hydrating face mist, and even a white school cap to block the glare from the stage lights. Everyone thought I was a pain, but they'd still remembered every one of my ridiculous habits. I flipped the mirror facedown on the desk. "What about you?" "What about me?" "Are you scared?" Sasha paused. "Yeah." She looked up at Greenwood's crest. "I've spent three years here. I don't wanna graduate and come back someday to find my school gone." With that, she walked onto the competition stage. The final round began, and Brookstone took nine questions in a row. Joe and Chris were already out; Sasha stood alone onstage, three full pages of scratch work spread in front of her. She still couldn't solve the final ten challenge problems. Greenwood was 90 points behind, so the only way for the school to make a comeback was to get all ten right. Hugo took off his headset and leaned back in his chair. "Stop trying. Even with 30 minutes, you probably wouldn't be able to solve all ten questions." Sasha ignored him. She stared hard at her scratch paper, gripping her pen so tightly that her hand had started to shake. Below the stage, the foundation representative pulled out the funding termination agreement. Mr. Brown clutched the school charter, his knuckles white. Mr. White's eyes were red-rimmed as he asked, "Can't you give us one more chance?" The representative shook his head. "Ten years was the deadline. The agreement takes effect the moment the competition ends." Muffled sobs started coming from the audience. Evie clamped a hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. At last, Sasha entered an answer for the first question. A harsh red light flashed—she was wrong. Greenwood had lost another ten points. She stood in the middle of the stage, her shoulders trembling. "I'm sorry. I promised everyone I'd win this, but… I can't." Hugo glanced at the countdown. "One minute to go. You've already lost, Sasha." Then he deliberately turned toward me. "Greenwood still has its school belle, right? Send her up. You're gonna lose anyway. Might as well do it while looking pretty." The Brookstone section erupted in laughter. "Go on up, Geraldine!" "There are four choices per question. You're bound to guess one right!" "Maybe if she touches up her makeup first, the answers will magically appear!" Sasha whipped around. "Shut up!" She defended me, her eyes red as she glared at Hugo. "Whether she can answer the questions or not, you don't get to humiliate her." He laughed. "Then admit defeat." The countdown on the big screen kept dropping. 30, 29, 28… Mr. Brown shut his eyes. "Forget it. You guys did your best." Mr. White moved to stand in front of me. "Don't let them bait you. You lose ten points for every wrong answer. If even Sasha can't solve them, there's no point in you going up there. It won't change anything." I looked at the ten questions filling the screen. There were words and numbers everywhere, and honestly, they looked intimidating. But it only took me a few seconds to scan from the first to the last. The first question could be solved just by changing the order of operations. The second practically gave away the answer in the wording. The third looked even more familiar—I'd solved the original version when I was 12. They'd only changed a couple of numbers. The rest weren't much harder. And when I looked at the three pages of calculations Sasha had written, they just felt needlessly complicated. Hugo was still laughing. "Why aren't you looking in your mirror anymore? Don't tell me you actually wanna attempt the questions." I hadn't planned on giving him the satisfaction, but the Brookstone section was getting louder and louder. The noise was giving me a headache. At this rate, they were going to ruin the bangs I'd just fixed. I set down my mirror, slipped the pink hair tie off my wrist, and pulled my hair into a quick ponytail. Then I stepped around Mr. White and took the buzzer from Sasha. "Lemme borrow this." "Geraldine, you—" She didn't get to finish speaking. I looked at the screen and casually tapped in a few answers. A second later, chimes rang out as the silent scoreboard came alive. One by one, all ten challenge questions lit up green. Every answer was correct. Not a single point was missed.