Chapter 4
Every May, our school hosted an academic symposium featuring high school research from across the state.
The teacher Daphne Brown picked Winnie to present on stage.
Her topic was my neural cell regeneration project.
That afternoon, the lecture hall filled to capacity with visiting faculty from neighboring schools and professors from local universities.
Winnie took the stage in a crisp white shirt and black skirt. The slide deck was my template, and every single data point came straight from my experiments.
She spoke for fifteen minutes, gliding through the slides without a hitch.
During the Q&A, a professor in glasses in the front row raised his hand.
"Miss Clayton, there is an unexplained leap in your core hypothesis. You jump straight from the third dataset's premises into the fifth dataset's conclusions, bypassing validation for group four. Could you walk us through why you skipped it?" he asked.
Winnie's fingers tightened against the podium.
Only someone who had actually run the trials from start to finish could answer that.
She glanced back at the screen, clicked forward two slides, and clicked back.
"Uh, that was because group four showed significant volatility, so we decided to exclude those outliers," she said.
The professor pushed up his glasses. "Under which criteria? What confidence interval did you use?"
Winnie pressed her lips into a tight line, tiny beads of sweat forming across her forehead.
Silence fell over the room, leaving only the low hum of the air conditioning.
In the front row, Daphne leaned forward, ready to step in and bail her out.
That was when a clear voice cut in from the back. "Group four dropped two extreme outliers at a ninety-five percent confidence interval using Grubbs' test.
"Since the adjusted trend aligned with group three, group five was used directly for cross-validation."
Heads snapped around.
It was Freya.
She stood there with her arms crossed, her face totally blank.
Under everyone's gaze, she lifted her chin.
"I helped Luella proofread the paper. I know the data," she said.
The professor nodded and looked at Winnie. "Understood. Please continue."
Winnie froze for a couple of seconds before catching her breath. She directed a small, grateful nod toward Freya.
Freya didn't bother looking back.
*****
I waited for Freya by the building entrance after the session wrapped up.
Seeing me, she let out a snort.
"Don't thank me. I didn't do it for her. I did it for your project. That was seven months of your life, and I couldn't stomach watching her butcher it up there," she said.
"Freya," I called out.
"What?" she replied.
"How did you remember that data processing method?"
She looked away. "You ran me through it last year. Don't you remember?"
I remembered. I had only ever explained that methodology to one person.
It was her.
"Come on. Coffee's on me," I said.
She shot me a glare, but fell into step beside me anyway.
As we walked out of the school gate, I glanced back.
Up by the second-floor corridor window, Ethan stood watching Winnie.
Winnie walked past him; he said something, and she smiled, nodding.
I turned away, following Freya down the alley toward the coffee shop.
*****
In early June, the school held the final parent-teacher conference of the term.
Tiffany showed up.
So did Winnie's mother, Carly Clayton.
In my previous life, Winnie's family wasn't much better off than mine. Her mother ground away on a garment factory assembly line for over a decade.
Today, though, Carly wore a crisp new coat, her hair freshly styled.
After the main meeting, the homeroom teacher held a few parents back for private check-ins.
I waited in the hallway for my turn.
Through the half-open door, the conversation drifted out clearly.
Tiffany's voice was gentle but firm.
"Sir, Ella has great grades, but now that she's lost the direct admission, she needs time to adjust her mindset. I really don't think she should be competing in the national tournament this summer," she said.
The teacher hesitated. "But her registration is already submitted. Luella is the only qualified finalist representing our school."
"Send Winnie instead. As an Ashbourne commit, she represents the school's prestige far better. Besides, the competition theme matches her recent project, doesn't it?" Tiffany suggested.
Silence hung in the room for a long moment.
Carly chimed in with an eager, flattering laugh. "Exactly. Winnie is going to Ashbourne, so having her represent the school looks great on paper. Luella is such a sensible girl. She won't mind stepping aside."
I stood outside, fingers gripping the hem of my jacket.
Tiffany continued, "Ella hasn't been in top shape lately anyway. The extra pressure might break her. It's better for her to concentrate on regular admissions."
Suddenly, the door was pulled open from the inside.
Ethan stepped out, nearly running right into me.
He took a step back, saw me standing at the doorway, and his face darkened.
I stared back without a word, then turned on my heel and walked off.
Behind me, the homeroom teacher called down the hall, "Luella, wait! We need to talk."
I didn't stop.