“Bet they're sweating over what to do now.”
“Serves them right. Who told them to go flaunting the SATs like that? That's Percy and Winston we're talking about!”
Norman and I trudged toward our seats, bags in hand, worn out.
Percival spoke up out of nowhere.:
“Vivienne, agree to one condition and drop the SAT bet, and we'll call the whole thing off.”
I turned back. “What condition?”
“Be my girlfriend after the SATs.”
The exhaustion drained straight off Norman's face.
Winston frowned and shot Percival a look.
Percival went on.:
“I'll handle all your prep before the SATs, and I'll help you nail the likely questions too. How's that?”
“Not a chance!”
Norman stepped in front of me, putting himself between us.
“Hey. I'm talking to Vivienne.”
“She's not agreeing.”
Norman's voice was cold.
Percival's smile turned to ice.:
“Let me put it this way. Once the results are out, I might let Vivienne off the hook. But you? You don't get that chance.”
“I don't need you letting me off anything.”
I frowned.:
“Nobody's decided who wins and who loses yet!”
Percival looked at me. “Vivienne, this is the SATs we're talking about.”
“Still no!”
His smile faded.
Norman and I took our seats in the front row.
And back to grinding against each other.
Soon enough.
The results came out.
The teacher walked into the classroom, buzzing.:
“This year's National Mathematical Modeling Competition, our school took home a gold!”
“No way! Seriously?”
“Those slots always go to college teams! And our high school actually……”
Norman and I stared the teacher down, dead still.
The teacher smiled.:
“Let's congratulate the team of Percival Dickerson, Winston Simmons, and Clive Finch!”
“Whoa, our two big guns, incredible!”
Percival and Winston curled their lips into a grin.
They looked over at Norman and me.:
“So? Want one last chance?”
“Except this year, the organizers added a grand prize above the gold.”
The teacher smiled.
“Care to guess which team took it?”
