“If this is real, then Maggie’s basically our guardian angel!”
“Of course it’s real! Come on, it’s Maggie. You know how connected she is—she’s practically on her way to becoming a celebrity after the exams!”
“What about the people who said they weren’t going? Hurry up and get off the bus so the rest of us can split a bigger cut!”
I quickly opened my phone and saw the message Maggie had sent to the group—a reward poster for someone named Axel Burton. The poster looked slick and convincing. If I hadn’t known from my past life that Axel was never in danger, I might’ve believed it myself.
When everyone says Maggie has “connections,” what they really meant was that she cozied up to a few people from the nightlife scene. She’s good-looking and she used that to land a cheap local gig in a sketchy poker app commercial.
The rumor mill had already turned that into: She’s a model. She’s about to sign with a major talent agency the moment she graduates.
The classmates who were hesitant before got completely blinded by the promise of money now.
Seeing the mood shift, the driver took his chance—sped up, cut off the cars following us and turned down a side road.
He beamed, clearly pleased with himself. “A reward that big? Man, today must be my lucky day. Not only did I get to drive a bus full of future college stars, now there’s a cash prize in it too!”
“This shortcut goes straight to the outskirts—30 minutes round trip. You’ll be back just in time. By the time you get that reward money and get into Sky University? You’ll be living the dream!”
The whole class couldn’t contain their smiles anymore. You could see it on their faces—they were already fantasizing about their perfect futures.
But something about the driver’s sudden change in route, his over-the-top enthusiasm… it made my stomach twist. I glanced at my watch. Only 25 minutes left until the exam started.
I couldn’t wait around any longer. Without thinking, I stepped forward and knocked hard on the panel separating the driver from us. “Let me out. Now. I don’t want to save anyone and I don’t want the money.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the driver’s ID badge. Brook Doyle.
Doyle? The same last name as Maggie?
A chilling suspicion was starting to take shape in my mind.
No wonder that in my past life, I needed to call the police before this entire mess finally stopped. Maggie was insistent on dragging the entire class into skipping the most important exam of our lives to go "rescue" someone. Turns out she and the driver knew each other from the start. That’s the only way they could’ve pulled this off so smoothly, manipulating the whole class like it was nothing.
The driver must’ve sensed something had changed in me, because he didn’t respond and hit the gas and sped up instead. The testing center was getting farther and farther away.
My voice trembled with panic. “Let me off the bus. Now! Or I’m calling the cops!”
Maybe they could afford not to care about the college entrance exam—but I couldn’t. My family wasn't rich. I was the first in my family to even have a shot at getting into Sky University.
My relatives always said my parents were lucky to have such a smart, responsible daughter. But I was not a genius—I just worked harder than anyone I knew. The mountain of practice problems I’d finished could fill a room. The pens I’d used up, the calluses on my fingers, my worsening eyesight, my receding hairline—every bit of it was earned. My mom waking up at 4 a.m. to make me nutritious breakfasts. My dad driving me to school every day, rain or shine.
The exam was my whole life. The culmination of everything I’d fought for. I had to deliver the perfect answer sheet.
When the driver still refused to stop, I snapped. I pulled out my metal compass from my bag, the sharp end pressing against his throat. “Let me off. Now!”
The entire bus went silent. Everyone froze, stunned by how far I was willing to go.
Someone said, “…Maybe we did go too far. If he wants to get off, just let her.”
Cold sweat dripped down the driver’s face. He slammed the brakes.
Maggie shot me a furious glare and snatched my phone. “You can leave, but I’m keeping this. Don’t want you calling the cops.”
We were nearly in the suburbs now. The streets were empty, cars nowhere in sight. Without my phone, I’d have no way to call a cab or even get help.
With only twenty minutes left, there was no way I could run to the exam center in time.
My expression hardened. “No. I won’t call the cops. I promise. I don’t care what you’re all planning—I just want to take my exam.”
