Cyndi weaved her way over to the lunch table, dancing around feet stuck out to trip her and bending around hands eager to smack her tray into her face. A sickening stench permeated the air of the cafeteria. The air was hot and stifling, which didn’t help the smell. Kids screamed and laughed at deafening volumes. She barely made it to the table, where she set her tray down next to Tara’s, who was already seated and talking to her friends.

“Hey, Cyndi!” Tara sang as she sat down. Cyndi managed a smile as Tara’s other friends shot her death stares around Tara. Cyndi wasn’t very popular in school. She was very shy, and shy wasn’t exactly “in” at the moment. Tara started to say more to Cyndi when the loudspeaker interrupted.

“May I have your attention please. To those who entered the Glitter Art Contest, please come to the art room to find out who won first, second, and third place. Thank you.”

“Ooh, I entered!” squealed one of Tara’s friends, Jasmine. “I can’t wait to see the look on Bridget’s face when she finds out I crushed her!”

“I wanna see that!” agreed some of the other girls.

“Whatever. You guys go on, I’m gonna finish eating,” said Tara, who was considerably nicer than them, and had no interest in watching a young girl’s dreams be crushed and smeared on the floor.

“KK!” they said, and left. Tara turned back to Cyndi, but was again interrupted as Jake, Kevin, and Roger meandered up to the table and sat down. Cyndi’s eyes widened. No one but Tara knew, but Cyndi had a huge crush on Jake. His long brown hair that he was always flipping out of his big green eyes, his adorable freckles. . . .

“Hey, Tara,” said Jake, ignoring Cyndi. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, y’know, okay,” said Tara.

“Heard you aced the math test. Just wanted to congratulate you.”

“Oh, why thank you, Jake!” Tara said happily.

“Hope to see you around. Bye,” he said, and Jake and his gang ambled back to their table.
Cyndi watched them go with a sinking heart. It seemed Jake liked Tara, the way he smiled at her, the way he talked to her. Cyndi could never hope to compete with Tara. She was shy. Tara was energetic, lively, kind, popular. Everybody adored her. But nobody knew Cyndi. She was the quiet girl. Sure, she teemed with brains and talent, but she concealed it, not wanting to draw attention to herself. And now she would never get Jake to like her.
Tara was studying Cyndi. “I think he likes me,” she said.
“Ya think?!” Cyndi snapped, depressed and irritated. “I always thought he didn’t like me, but . . . now I know he doesn’t.”
“Do you know why he likes me?” asked Tara. “Because I’m smart. He could like you if he knew you had brains, too!”
“Well, he doesn’t, and he never will. So it doesn’t matter.” Cyndi went back to chewing her sandwich, not really tasting it. Which was actually a good thing when it came to school food.
“Oh my gosh, I just got an idea!” Tara said, even though she had, in truth, thought of it a while ago. “You can win Jake over. Cyndi, enter the contest!”
“How many times do I have to tell you? NO!” Cyndi said. “No. No.
No. No. No. I’m not doing it.”

“The Brain-a-thon contest is your big chance! You win, and he’ll know you’re the smartest girl in school.”

“But what if I don’t win?”

“How could you not win? But even if you did, would you be any worse off with Jake? It’s not like he knows you now.”

Cyndi sat for a minute. The fumes from her cafeteria sandwich were making it hard to think. “Lemme sleep on it,” she said. “This is a big decision.”

“Okay,” Tara said calmly, inwardly smiling. Let Cyndi think all night about Jake liking Tara instead of her. She would have to enter. “Well, I gotta go to the library. Enjoy your. . . .” She squinted. “Are those ribs?”

Tara left, leaving Cyndi alone at the table. As she sat, choking down her sandwich, she thought excitedly about the contest, and the promise it brought.

“Word has it Cyndi entered the Brain-a-thon contest. You hang out with her, Tara, you would know: is this true?”

Tara smiled. “Yes, it is true. Amazing, huh? I’m so proud of her!”

“Save it! I don’t know why you’re happy about this. That Cyndi girl is so lame, she’ll just embarrass herself. Why did she even enter in the first place?”

Tara’s smile was replaced by a scowl. “First of all, Cyndi is not lame. Second of all, she entered because she is the smartest girl in the whole school. Yeah. She just doesn’t flaunt it . . . like some people. You ain’t gonna win this year, Tiffany, so prepare to be humiliated.” Tara was rather satisfied with her smack talk.

Tara had been so involved in her argument, she barely noticed the soccer ball being dribbled back toward her, in the defense. She challenged the offense player, slide-tackled the ball away, and blasted it up the field. She was the star defensive player in PE, which wasn’t actually that impressive given that not a single person had seen a real soccer ball before today. At least, that’s what it looked like based on the amount of skill they demonstrated.

“Cyndi isn’t smart,” spat Tiffany. “And I’ll prove it. Tomorrow, have her meet me before school in the library. We’ll see how much she knows.”

The bell rang, and Tiffany stalked back to her friends. Tara flipped her blonde pigtails back and skipped over to hers. She talked cheerfully to them, not mentioning what had happened. She changed out of her PE clothes as fast as she could, then barreled over to Cyndi’s classroom. Cyndi was just coming out as Tara arrived.

Tara had to pause a moment to catch her breath.

“Tara, what is it?” asked Cyndi nervously. Tara held up a finger to tell her to wait a second.

“Okay, Cyndi. Tiffany wants you to meet her in the library tomorrow, before school. She wants to test your knowledge. I know you’re probably a little nervous,” she added, seeing the look on Cyndi’s face, “but this is a good opportunity to scare her. Show her what you can do!”

Cyndi took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. “Okay, okay. I can do this,” she said, more to herself than to Tara. “What’s her test going to be like?”

“I don’t know,” Tara admitted, “but whatever it is, you can handle it. I believe in you,” she finished with a smile, and a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Cyndi gave a weak smile.

Cyndi looked in the mirror. She had barely gotten a wink of sleep all night. She had gotten nervous before, but it had never been as bad as it was now. Purple bags stained her rosy cheeks. Her pool-blue eyes shimmered with nervous tears. Even her violin-red hair reflected her mood, tattered and knotty under her wrinkled cat-eared headband. She left the house and biked to school, feeling trapped by Tara’s agreement with Tiff to have her knowledge tested. There was no way out of it, she was sure, she had thought all night about it. Feigning sickness was not an option, she would miss school, and, plus, her mom would kill her if she found out. She couldn’t think of anything that would work. Obviously she could just not show up, but that would destroy the little pride she had left, especially when Tiff shouted of her cowardice at school. Cyndi was so preoccupied with her situation, she steered too close to a tree. Her foot caught, and she flew into a bush. Luckily.

Cyndi looked up and realized she had, somehow, made it to school in one piece. She parked her bike and locked it. The library was open for kids who came early, so she went in, and immediately her eyes found Tiff. She sat reading a book, looking annoyingly innocent. Cyndi’s irritation temporarily blocked out her fear, and she walked up to Tiff with her head high, sitting in the seat across from her to announce her presence.

Tiff looked up. “Oh, you’re finally here!” she said. “Why, don’t you look . . . pretty today,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Cyndi’s nerves had returned full blown, but she managed to keep her cool. “Yeah yeah. Just give me the quiz, I’ve got better things to do than sit here and listen to you.”

Tiff’s eyes narrowed with surprise, but she just laughed. “Ooh, aren’t you a bad girl,” she said, a murderous glint in her eye. “Fine. You think you’re so smart? Then let’s hear you tell me what the definition of odontophobia is!”

What? What did she say? Cyndi’s brain seemed to shut off. How she had managed to walk into the library and actually say something witty was a mystery. Her tongue was sandpaper in her mouth, and her heart was beating in her throat, making it impossible for her to speak.

Tiffany smirked. “Yep. That’s what I thought. But, no matter! I’ll let you try again. ‘Feed me, and I shall survive, but give me drink and I shall die. What am I?’”

“The Wicked Witch of the West,” muttered Cyndi grumpily, realizing too late that it was a bad time to sass Tiff. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t focus, it was as if her nerves were eating her brain!

“Ha, ha, very funny,” growled Tiff. “But three strikes, and you’re out. What is the square root of 65,536?”
Cyndi sighed. Maybe she would know if she wasn’t so nervous. This test was stupid, anyway. How could Tara expect her to overcome her fear of public speaking? She was just getting up when she saw Tara. She was plopped in front of a laptop, typing so fast her fingers appeared blurred. But what Cyndi noticed was Jake, sitting across the room from Tara, but staring at her.
Cyndi could feel the blood rise in her face. Why did Tara get all the guys? Why did Tara get to set Cyndi up to fail, and not even feel bad? Cyndi wanted to punch her pillow. But, then again, with Tiff right in front of her . . .
“The square root of 65,536 is 256. The answer to the second one? It’s fire. And odontophobia is the fear of teeth.”
Tiff looked as though Cyndi really had punched here. “But --
how -- ?”

Cyndi allowed a sly grin to creep onto her face. “Watch out, Tiff. I’m planning on winning this thing.”

Cyndi turned and walked pompously out of the library, casually slinging her backpack over her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jake talking to Tara.
Chin wobbling, heart breaking, she celebrated her victory over Tiff’s quiz.

“What? You figured out the square root of sixty-five thousand, five hundred and thirty-something? Cyndi! You prove again and again that you are the smartest person I’ll ever hope to know!” Tara beamed.

Cyndi smiled, holding back the flood of tears pushing at her eyes.

All day, she had hidden her emotions, and gone out of her way to avoid Tara. But she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t home. Tara knew she had no life.

The weather had turned grim. Ominous grey clouds threatened rain at any moment. Lightning flashed through the fog. Thunder growled in the distance. Cyndi wished it would rain, so that Tara wouldn’t notice if she cried. She wasn’t sure if she could mask her misery much longer.

“Cyndi, what’s wrong?” asked Tara knowingly. Huh. Perhaps she hadn’t been hiding her forlornness so well.

“You!” Cyndi burst out. “You’re what’s wrong! You keep on letting Jake flirt with you! If this keeps up, you two will be dating before the contest even starts, and then it won’t matter if I win!”

Tara looked hurt. “Do you really think I’d date my best friend’s crush?”

Cyndi didn’t let up. “I used to think not, but you keep on encouraging him to talk to you! He’s not going to like me, even if I win, if he decides to like you!”

“We’re just friends! I know for a fact, he doesn’t like me.”

Cyndi was not impressed. “Oh yeah? How?”

Tara bit her lip. “Because . . . he likes Tiffany.”

“WHAT?!” Cyndi shrieked.

“Shut up!” yelled someone from next door.

“You shut up!” Tara shouted back, before turning back to Cyndi. “He asked me to get Tiffany’s number so he could call her. And guess what I said,” she said, the faintest traces of a smile sneaking onto her face.

“What?” asked Cyndi suspiciously.

“I told him I would get her number after she won the Brain-a-thon. He wanted it sooner, but he’s agreed to wait. And then, when you win, I’ll ask him if he wants your number instead!”

“No,” moaned Cyndi halfheartedly. “That’s embarrassing.”

Tara raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, okay,” Cyndi gave in with a smile. “But,” she realized, “We still don’t know if I’ll win.”

“No,” Tara corrected, “you don’t know if you’ll win. I do.”

“You know what? I am going to study every free minute I have until February. Then I’ll feel more prepared.”

Tara was unconvinced. “Cyndi. That’s four months away.”

But Cyndi was not about to change her mind. Tara went home worrying about Cyndi. She would not be able to keep studying for four months! Her brain would explode. But maybe, for once, she would let Cyndi solve her own problem. It would be nice to relax for once, and not have to worry about helping Cyndi. Anyway, Cyndi would realize soon enough that she couldn’t study every available moment. And if not, Tara could always give Cyndi a gentle push in the right direction. But for now . . . she could finally relax!

Tara had never been more wrong.

Soccer was over, and basketball had begun, along with a new trimester. The good news was that Cyndi had been transferred to Tara’s PE class. The bad news was that Tiffany was also with them.

Tiffany, shockingly, hadn’t acted irritated or bratty when she discovered Cyndi had gym with them this trimester. In fact, she seemed to be suppressing happiness. Maybe she was willing to accept Cyndi now that she realized she wasn’t a dimwitted loser! Tara felt hopeful that Tiffany had turned over a new leaf.
Half-court games were Tara’s favorite, so she was thrilled to hear that that was what they’d be doing. Her team, which consisted of Cyndi and her friend Jen, played against a team of three boys. In the court next to them, the basket side-by-side with Tara’s, was another game. Tiffany and her two friends, Lauren and Darla, played on it.

“Here, Tara!” yelled Cyndi, and passed the ball to her. Tara caught the ball and a boy from the other team hopped up in her face, tripped over her foot, and fell to the ground with a crash.

“Hey, man, you okay?” the guy’s friends asked. Everyone gathered around him as he rolled over to reveal a bloody gash on his knee. Tara swallowed vomit; she couldn’t stand the sight of blood. She was forced to turn around, and decided to watch Tiffany’s game while the members of her game fixed the boy up.
Lauren shot the ball, and when it missed, Tiffany snatched the rebound from the air. When she tried to shoot it back up, the other team doubled up on her. She glanced around frantically, but her teammates weren’t open. Darla darted around and yelled for the ball. Tiffany faked a pass to her, fooling the other players into giving her space. Then she turned and threw the ball, hard, toward the sideline.

The sideline Tiffany happened to be throwing the ball at was the one where Tara’s team was playing. Time seemed to slow as Tara realized that the ball was a second away from hitting Cyndi in the head. She dove and caught the ball in her fingertips. The impact with the concrete knocked the wind out of her.

“Oh my goodness, are you alright?” Cyndi gasped. Everyone swarmed Tara, forgetting the boy with the big bloody gash. Tara tried to roll over, but stopped when a jolt of pain emanated from her wrist. Tiffany’s team marched over angrily.

“Hey, so, can we have our ball back?” Tiffany said, irked. She snatched the ball and prowled away. Tara was confused. Why would Tiffany be mad that she had caught her ball? It was like she had wanted the ball to hit Cyndi . . . .

Tiffany’s motives suddenly dawned on her.

Cyndi had been in the library from the moment it opened. She poured over math books, science books, history books, English books. . . . But alas, there was not much she hadn’t already studied. She ended up checking out a book on Einstein; maybe she would be inspired to take on a new way of thinking based on his theories! Einstein had always been her role model, and had inspired her to think for herself and to use her imagination to find answers. She knew who she was, and to protect her identity, she hid her personality so that people wouldn’t judge her.
One of her favorite quotes was, “We can’t solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.” It encouraged her to take a new angle on problems.

Cyndi was leaving the library when a bookshelf toppled over. It slowly leaned over, like someone had pushed it then changed their mind. It gave Cyndi just enough time to jump out before it crashed to the ground. She tried to lift it back up, but it was too heavy. Luckily, Tara and Tiff were on the ground behind it, like they had tripped, and Cyndi convinced them to help. Tiff, of course, didn’t want to help, and for some reason, Tara looked about ready to kill her. Had they been arguing about something?

They set the bookshelf upright again, and Cyndi hustled out of there as fast as she could. If Tara and Tiff were going to fight, she wanted no part of it.

She went to her first period classroom and read her Einstein book. She loved Einstein’s theory of relativity -- but the book made it sound way too complicated. She wanted to write her own book someday, explaining her thoughts in a simple way. It would help preserve her thoughts when she was gone. But if she was to win the competition, she had to focus. She began to compose a math worksheet. She multiplied ten nine-digit numbers together, and made it her goal to finish them before the bell rang; she had about three minutes.

Sadly, she only got through seven before her time was up. She resolved to work on it until she could reach her goal.

Her first class was math. Luckily, they were having a test and were given the whole period to finish it. Normally, she would take her time so she wouldn’t get bored, but now she needed to practice. She finished the quiz in five minutes and turned it in. Then she went back to making worksheets.

By the time she lay down to sleep, she could multiply twelve nine-digit numbers in three minutes. But she had wasted a whole day. She had to start working harder if she were to win the contest!
Cyndi tried to get out of bed to work on a science experiment, but she realized she couldn’t. Her brain was so tired, it gave her a headache. Sometimes, Cyndi’s headaches could get so bad, she couldn’t move her own limbs. And now was one of those times. She accepted the fact that she needed rest, and allowed herself to drift into oblivion.

Cyndi continued to do this every day for months. Tara couldn’t stand to see her stagger into school each day like a drunken zombie, exhausted from overwork, but she was too busy to help her. Tiffany, it seemed, had been thoroughly intimidated by Cyndi the day she had tested her; she had been trying to knock her off ever since. First the basketball, then the bookshelf, then the bat (long story). . . . Tara had to constantly keep an eye on Tiffany, without her noticing that she was there. She was already getting more evasive, and it was taking all of Tara’s efforts to keep her from hurting Cyndi. And she didn’t want to tell Cyndi, either; she was looking for excuses to drop out already.
Speaking of which, Tara also had to deal with Jake. She kept sending him toward Cyndi, but honestly, the girl was guy repellant. She would present boys with a creeped-out look until they walked away, or she would run off, or she would look in the opposite direction and pretend not to see them. It was like she was trying to send them away. Tara accepted that she was just shy and afraid they would hurt her, but even so, she was running out of ways to get them together.
Between Tara’s body-guarding and Cyndi’s studying, the two barely spent any time together. But they were so busy, time flew by, and before they knew it, it was the day of the contest.

Tara waited for Cyndi backstage. She was anxious; what if Cyndi forgot everything? Cyndi was no good under pressure. If she failed, she would lose her confidence until college!
The contest was getting nearer and nearer . . . if Cyndi didn’t show up soon, she would be disqualified! Eventually, Tara snapped and ripped open her phone.
“Cyndi! Where are you?” she hissed through her phone.
“Um, I’m . . . sick,” said Cyndi meekly. “Sorry, I can barely talk, I’m gonna hafta cancel. Sorry.”
“Cyndi! Just how dumb do you think I am?” Tara growled. “I know when you’re lying and I know you’re not sick and I know that if you do not come here in five minutes you’ll be disqualified and I know that I will drag you here if I have to to make that not happen!”
Cyndi gulped. “I’m sorry, Tara. I just can’t.”
And she hung up the phone.
Tara swore. “C’mon, Mom, we’re goin’ to Cyndi’s!” she said, seizing her mom by the sleeve and dragging her toward the car. Tara’s mom started to say something, but apparently changed her mind. She knew about her daughter’s crazy schemes, and had learned the hard way it was better to not get involved.
Tara checked her watch. Cyndi lived close to the school, where the contest was, but they still had to hurry if they were going to get back in time. Tara took out her key to Cyndi’s house and barged in without knocking. She found Cyndi lying on the couch, holding a tub of ice cream and surrounded by tissues. Tara scooped her up (Cyndi gave a yelp of surprise) and lugged her out to the car, plopping her unceremoniously in the backseat.
“Mom, lock the doors!” Tara cried as she hopped in. Tara’s mom did so without hesitation and began driving back to school.
“Let me out, let me out!” screeched Cyndi. “I cannot go! I am going to humiliate myself in front of Jake!”
“Cyndi, listen up,” Tara’s mom said briskly. “You are a bright young girl, and you can beat that girl, what’s her name . . . oh yeah, Tiffany, any day. Okay? Believe in yourself!”
Cyndi slouched in her seat.
When they got back to school (“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” ushered Tara), they ran from the car like it was on fire, and into the school as though being chased by rabid dogs. They burst in just as a man bellowed Cyndi’s name for roll call.
Cyndi panted. “Here. . . . I’m here.”
Tiffany glowered at them like they were dog doo she had stepped in.
“Okay, juveniles, the competition will be starting very soon, so be prepared to go on at any moment!” he said grumpily.
Cyndi started shaking. “I - I can’t do this,” she pleaded to Tara. “I just can’t!”
Tara smiled reassuringly. “Yes, you can. Forget the crowd. Just pretend I’m the only one there. You can do this, Cyndi. You have a gift. Just forget your fear!”
Cyndi smiled. “Thank you, Tara.”
“Okay, runts, you’re on!” the man announced. “Go! Out on stage! Now!”
Cyndi took a deep breath. “I’ll go back out to the audience,” Tara said. “Just look at me when you need to calm your nerves.”
Cyndi went onstage with the other girls as Tara slipped back into the crowd. Cyndi watched her go, making sure not to lose sight of her. She went up to a big electronic podium. There was one for each of the ten kids competing. Everyone in the whole school was watching, as were parents. Everyone would see how the competition went. But no pressure!
Cyndi glanced at Tara for reassurance. Tara smiled encouragingly.
Cyndi glanced down at the podium. There was just a keyboard, for her to type her answers to the questions.
“Okay, time for your first question!” announced the cheesey host excitedly. “The subject is math! ‘At the Local Harvest restaurant, Rick bought a bowl of vegan chili for $6.25 and a cup of coffee for $1.35. Basing each percent on the total cost of the chili and coffee, Rick left a 12% tip and paid 8% sales tax. From a $10 bill, what is the least number of coins (using only pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters) Rick could have received in change?’”
“Can you say it again?” asked a boy.
The host smiled. “No sir! Try to remember the question!”
The boy paled.
Cyndi thought about the problem. She tried not to think about all the eyes staring at her, glancing at Tara every few seconds for reassurance.
She knew the answer. She was just so scared . . . she couldn’t think. Tara was nodding firmly at her. Cyndi took a deep breath, and Tara smiled. Cyndi knew the answer. She knew the answer. She typed it and sent it.
After all the answers had been received, the man smiled. “Now, as you know, this is a single elimination contest. If anyone missed this question, they are out of the Brain-a-thon!” he said cheerfully. “The people who are moving on to the next round are . . . Dave Carson, Tiffany West” -- Cyndi cringed -- “Hailee Faye, Zack Green, Joe Henderson, and Cyndi Smith! Congratulations! The correct answer was seven.”
Cyndi smiled inwardly. She had made it past the first round! She had tamed her nerves long enough to think. As long as she could continue doing that, she might actually be able to win!
“Next question! Ooh, this one’s a spelling question! It’s going to be a toughie! Spell ‘iridescent.’”
“Definition please?” asked one of the boys.
“Iridescent: shining with many different colors when seen from different angles.”
“Thank you!”
Cyndi thought hard. Under normal circumstances, she could have spelled the word in her sleep! But now, with everyone staring at her. . . .
She poked at the letters on her screen to help her think. HUGDHB. Messing around helped calm her nerves. She grinned at Tara, who smiled back.
She typed the word: iridescent. She sent it and held her breath.
“And we have all the answers!” grinned the host. “Let’s see who is moving on and who is going to say goodbye!” He looked at the messages that had been sent. “Dave Carson, Hailee Faye, and Zack Green!”
Cyndi felt her heart drop. She had lost. She hadn’t even made it to the top three. She had gotten out on the second round. How was this possible?
But then, looking around, she realized that Dave, Hailee, and Zack were out! She, Tiffany, and Joe were still in!
Tiffany slinked over to Cyndi. “Oh, are you scared?” she whispered sweetly. “Well, you should be. Because I am going to kick your butt, Ms. I’m-Afraid-To-Talk-In-Front-Of-Anyone!”

She swept aloofly back to her podium, taking Cyndi’s confidence with her.

“And our next question! You are to find all the grammatical errors in this sentence!”

A huge projection lit the wall behind us. The sentence was: I sat on the couch because its more comfy then standing on the cold floor

This was a bad one. When Cyndi got nervous, she had trouble focusing. She would have to very carefully comb through the sentence to make sure she fixed everything.

The obvious one was the period at the end. But that couldn’t be the only one. Cyndi scanned the sentence again, then (ah-ha!) realized that the wrong “its” was used. And the wrong “then.” And the word “comfy” wasn’t formal, and there should be a comma before “because.” Something was still off . . . oh! The tenses were wrong! “Sat” should be “sit!” “I sit on the couch, because it’s more comfortable than standing on the cold floor.” That was it!
Cyndi submitted her answer.

Joe didn’t make it past that round; apparently he forgot how to decide whether “its” or “it’s” was correct.

It was down to just Cyndi and Tiff.

Tiff and Cyndi survived seven more rounds. “‘What is the square root of 65,536?’” the host asked.

By this point, Cyndi was freaking out. She could barely breathe, everyone was watching . . . and yet that question sounded so familiar. Where had she heard it? She glanced toward Tara, whose expression was unreadable. No help there. Where had she heard it?

Tiff. Tiff’s quiz.

Cyndi typed her answer in. She looked over at Tiff, who was biting her lip. Cyndi watched her exhale, and type in a number.

“Okay, that’s all of them!” grinned the host. Even after so many rounds, he still wasn’t beaten down. “If one of you missed this question, the competition is over! Now, let’s see. . . .” Cyndi held her breath. “Ooh! One of you got it wrong! And that means the winner of the Brain-a-thon this year is . . .” the host paused for dramatic effect, “Cyndi Smith!” The crowd just sat, stunned, in their seats for a moment, before the auditorium erupted in deafening applause. People cheered and whooped, and threw flowers. One of them snagged Cyndi’s skirt. It wasn’t the best feeling.
Tiff’s face flushed. She stormed off the stage, fuming, as the audience cheered and clapped for Cyndi. How could she have lost? Cyndi couldn’t perform in front of people. And yet she had somehow beaten her. This was not going to end well for someone. . . .

“Tara, I did it, I won!” yelled Cyndi, ecstatic.

“I know, I’m so proud of you!” Tara squealed. “And I think someone else is too. . . .”

Cyndi turned to find Jake right behind her. “Oh! Hi, Jake,” she mumbled nervously.

Jake smiled. “Good job, Cyndi.” Cyndi held back a shriek. He knew her name! “I was really impressed tonight. . . . Do you wanna go, um, go see a movie Saturday?”

Cyndi smiled warmly at him. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

Jake looked relieved. “Awesome! Well, see ya there!” And he ran off.

Cyndi danced over to Tara. “He asked me out!” she sang. “You are the best friend I could ever have! I am so glad you did this for me,” she smiled.

Tara shrugged, but couldn’t resist smiling. “It’s just what a good friend would do. I just wanted you to come out of your shell.”

“And you picked an excellent way to do it,” Cyndi said. “Thank you for persuading me to try,” she said.

The two friends left the auditorium together.