<b>Chapter </b><b>22 </b>
<b>Jade’s </b>POV:
I approached Mrs. Hanson’s desk with mypleted AP Calculus exam<b>, </b>watching her face twist with thinly veiled contempt. Twenty–five minutes–not even a third of the allotted time. Most <b>students </b>were still hunched over their papers, frantically working through the <b>first </b><b>few </b>problems.
I walked out of the silent exam room, feeling the weight of her stare on my back. In <b>my </b>former life, I’d calcted missile trajectories and sniper bullet paths in my head while running <b>at </b>full speed<b>. </b><b>AP </b>Calculus was child’s y byparison.
With nearly two hours to kill before I’d normally be heading home, I made my way to the school’s athletic field. The afternoon sun felt good on my skin as I started my workout routine–push–<b>ups</b>, sprints, and core exercises. My body was getting stronger every day, the muscle memory from my previous life gradually returning.
After a solid workout session, I showered in the locker room and changed back into my <b>re </b>clothes. As I was walking through the school’s main exit, I spotted Emily and her friends of the building, having just finished the exam.
out
“Look who finished early,” she said loudly enough for me to hear. “Probably couldn’t answer a single question.”
Her friends snickered, nudging each other as I approached.
“ying withputers and making a few bucks doesn’t make you smart,” Emily continued, eyes narrowing as I passed by without acknowledgment. “Mom’s going to flip when she finds out you failed again.”
One of her friends leaned in. “How does she even have money for those clothes? That’s definitely Calvin Klein.”
Emily’s smile tightened. “Who knows? Maybe she’s stealing. Mom says there’s no way she could <i>be </i>making that much from someputer stuff.”
I kept walking, their voices fading as I left the school grounds<i>. </i>Their opinions meant <b>less </b>than nothing to me.
Max was waiting by the kitchen table when I arrived home, his eyes bright with excitement.
“You’re back early,” he said, checking the time. It’s only 4:30. How was the test?”
“Easy,” I replied, setting my backpack down. “Finished in twenty–five minutes.”
Max’s eyes widened. “Twenty–five minutes? That’s- He shook <b>his </b>head, then broke into a <b>grin</b><b>. </b>“Actually, that doesn’t even surprise me anymore. Listen, I’ve got news. Big news.”
“What is it?” I asked, opening the refrigerator to find something edible among Linda’s collection of expired condiments.
“Princeton University reached out,” Max said, his voice dropping to an excited whisper despite us being alone in the house. “The Dean of Admissions and Edward Sheldon both contacted me through Reddit. They want to offer you early admission and a full schrship.”
I closed the refrigerator door. “Based on that physics problem I solved?”
Max nodded enthusiastically. “Edward Sheldon himself said your solution was revolution been working on it for months, and you solved it in thirty minutes! They’re practically b have you visit campus.”
I leaned against the counter, keeping my face impassive. “I’m not interested.”
“What?” Max’s smile faltered. “But… it’s Princeton. One of the best universities in the world.”
“I don’t care about physics,” I said tly. “I don’t want to spend my time with a bunch of old professors doing boring research.”
Max’s shoulders slumped slightly, but he recovered quickly. “You don’t have to major in physics. You could-”
“I’ll still apply to Princeton,” I interrupted.
Max studied my face<b>, </b>trying to understand. What I couldn’t tell him was that Princeton’s location was perfect for my real n. The strongest East Coast branch of the Shadow Organization operated less than thirty miles from Princeton’s campus. It was time they got a taste of their own medicine. C4 made a particr sound when it detonated–a sound I was looking forward to hearing again.
“Whatever you decide, I support you,” Max said quietly.
My expression softened slightly. “Would you want to go to Princeton?”
“Yes, but I want to earn it myself,” Max replied, his eyes sincere.
I reached out and gently ruffled his hair, an unusual disy of affection. “I’ll see you at Princeton,
then.”
Later that evening, I passed by Max’s room and noticed him staring at hisputer screen, his finger hovering over the keyboard. He was looking at messages from Edward Sheldon and the Princeton admissions office. After a moment of hesitation, he typed a brief response:
“Thank you for your interest, but we’re not in a position to ept at this time.”
He hit send before he could change his mind, then blocked the ounts. Within minutes, new messages appeared from different ounts–Edward trying again. Max ignored them all.
I stepped away from his door, a small smile ying on my lips.
80
A weekter, the AP Calculus exam results were posted outside the mathematics department. Students crowded around, searching for their names.
“Orion got a 98!” someone announced, and a small cheer went up from his friends.
“Ashley dropped to 103rd ce,” another voice said, followed by hushed whispers about the video
scandal.
I spotted Emily pushing her way to the front, her finger tracing down the list until she found her name. “87,” she muttered, disappointment evident in her voice. “That’s not right. I should have scored at least in the 90s.”
I scanned the list but couldn’t find my name anywhere. I checked twice to be sure, then stepped back from the crowd, keeping my face expressionless. Emily caught my eye as she walked away from the board, a smug smile spreading across her face.
“Can’t find your name?” she asked. “Maybe they don’t list zeros.”
I ignored her and walked away. I had more important things to worry about than her petty jabs.
“Mr. Peterson,” I said, my voice cutting through the ssroom chatter as the teacher prepared to begin the day’s lesson. “I didn’t receive my AP Calculus exam results.”
The ssroom fell silent. Mr. Peterson adjusted his sses and looked at me with barely concealed disdain.
“That’s because you received zero points, Ms. Morgan.”
Murmurs rippled through the ssroom.
“Zero points?” I repeated, keeping my voice perfectly calm. “Why?”
“Because, Ms. Morgan,” Mr. Peterson said, his voice hardening, “the proctors and I agree that no student couldplete that exam in twenty–five minutes without cheating. Especially not a student
with your… academic history.”
I felt my eyes narrow slightly. “I didn’t cheat.”
“You didn’t show any work,” Mr. Peterson countered. “You wrote down answers with no calctions, no problem–solving steps. Just answers. That’s impossible.”
“Not for me.”
The ssroom was dead silent now, all eyes moving between us.
“We’ve confiscated your exam,” Mr. Peterson continued. “The Academic Integrity Committee will review your case tomorrow. Until then-”
“I can solve the problems again,” I interrupted. “Right now. Different methods, same answers.”
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