ACT 1, SCENE 10

CLASS RANKS WERE RELEASED FOR THE FALL QUARTER.

A series of pings alerted all students of a new email from Westminster administration.

Aarav swallowed hard and opened the school app, fingers hovering over the small blue circle. His chest tightened and he bit down hard enough on his tongue to taste the metallic tang of blood. 

1 out of 213.

Around him, the whispers grew louder. They knew. Everyone knew. Waiting. Watching. Classmates spiraling around him like vultures. Vying for a hint of weakness, a moment where he slipped up, the day he'd tumble off the precipice. 

Aarav straightened his shoulders and stared straight ahead. Madison Aster's eyes burned into the back of his head. He clicked off the phone and slid it into his pocket. She was like a snake, lying in the grass, waiting to pounce on the valedictorian title. He gritted his teeth and pressed his twitching hands against the desk. 

He wouldn't be her prey. Wouldn't be one of the students she'd trampled over in her rise to the top. People like Madison—born into white old money—lived in a world preprogrammed for their success. Aarav's parents had arrived in the country with nothing and built a tech empire from the ground up, clawing at the shards of the American dream, breaking down the gates that barred them with nothing but sheer willpower. The dirt of their fingernails became shreds of the night sky, ripped away as his parents climbed their way to the top. 

Aarav couldn't afford to fail. Not when all eyes were on him, bidding for his downfall. No one knew how far he was willing to go in order to keep face for his family. Every sacrifice his parents had made carved deep into their household, a blood oath to always succeed. 

Succeed or die trying. 

Mistakes weren't allowed. Not when he'd been born with the opportunities his parents had fought so desperately for him to have. Aarav would do anything in the chase after the impossible expectations set for him. Contort his mind and body to fit into the picture-perfect life mapped out for him. 

From across the room, his eyes met those Iris. Her dark pupils mirrored his. They were one and the same. Cut from the same cloth. Swatches of fabric that didn't belong in the sea of white faces and European features. The bleeding crimson lines that marked mistakes where softer, less red when it came to others. But when ethnicity marked them as outsiders, the snickers readily spread when they slipped up.

Never enough. 

Because no one would accept that they'd made it on their own merit. That they'd beaten everyone else fair and square. They always had to have some trick, some secret hidden up their sleeve.

Aarav gritted his teeth and his fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his skin. 

Fuck all of them.

When the bell rang, he gathered his books and strode out the door without another glance. Iris fell into step beside him. Ranks one and three. She didn't have to ask and he didn't either. Despite the weight of competition, a comfortable steady silence settled between him.

Iris was different from most of them. Despite the cutthroat competitive culture of Westminster Academy, she was earnestly helpful and supportive. She'd climbed to the top of the ladder with nothing but determination—an impressive feat when the school bled desperation and cheating from every elite, expensive brick. 

Aarav still remembered the scandal of sophomore year when administration released GPAs but not ranks. Madison Aster and her posse had hacked into multiple school accounts to learn everyone else's grades. But thanks to her father, alumni and longtime member of the school board, she got off with merely a warning. Not even a slap on the wrist. 

Her words that day still stung, their poison seeping into his skin. The way she'd sneered when he asked if she'd checked his GPA. "Don't flatter yourself. You aren't competition."

Not enough. Never enough. She wasn't even threatened by him.

That moment only fueled him further, the spite serving as gasoline for his mind to run on. Aarav decided then that he would make himself a threat. He'd surpass Madison Aster at the cost of his own sanity.

. . .

Jackie stared up at the ceiling of the guest bedroom. She usually visited her father every couple weeks or so. Multiple times, she would've rather skipped the weekend and avoided the abrupt, awkward conversations with his new blond family. 

The divorce had driven a permanent wedge between her and Ba. No longer was she the bright-eyed girl of eight years who idolize everything he did. He was the man who'd left her and her mother. Who turned his back on them for the picture-perfect American family. 

She twisted the red hair ribbon in her hands, yanking it back and forth. Outside the shut door echoed the muffled screams of her step-siblings and Janet's exhausted scoldings. Her stepmother was cordial enough but between the honeyed words and plastered words was the unsaid truth they all knew: Jackie didn't belong. She was there to be tolerated, a consequence of Ba's old life. He'd moved on now—without her.

Jackie grappled for her phone and texted Aarav asking him to pick her up. God, she hated her father's place so much that she was going to study geometry. Willingly. Out of her own complete desire. 

She was desperate.

But thankfully, Aarav was punctual as always. Not that she expected anything less. He'd become something of a constant in her life, a steady presence that she could always rely upon. 

He stood before the driveway in a dark gray t-shirt and black jeans, leaning against the Lexus. His thick glasses glared under the afternoon sun. As Jackie drew closer, small smile formed. "Studying math on a weekend?" 

She shook her head and collapsed into the passenger seat of his car. "Don't question it."  

"Our usual coffee hangout is closed at this time. Anywhere else you want to go?" His fingers, long and calloused, tapped against the steering wheel. Smudges of black ink stained his dark skin.

"Your place?" Jackie bit her lip and picked at a nail.

Aarav nodded and started the car. As the cruised down the street and pulled up to a red light, he glanced over at her. "Why the different address? Your dad's place?"

"Yeah." She huffed and brushed her hair out of her face. "I hate it." 

"Understandable."

"Before they divorced, there were so many little things that would escalate into full-blown arguments." Shaking her head, she wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. 

"That's terrible. Sometimes my parents will fight, but I can't imagine what that's like." Aarav offered a sympathetic smile.

"Sometimes I'll forget about it. It'll feel like everything's normal. Except then I'll remember that there was a time when I came home to a house with a dad that never left or replaced me."

Jackie stopped and furiously wiped at her eyes before sitting up straight. "Sorry for the dramatics."

"I'm taking it you don't actually want to study math right now?"

"I guess not."

Aarav pulled up to his home, a towering gated estate so pristine it looked like it was a movie set. Jackie's mouth fell open. Even a decade's worth of her mother's old income wouldn't cover half the cost of such a place. He entered a passcode and the gates opened. She marveled at the perfect landscaping. Near the front was even a marble fountain, the water's melodic gurgling filling the air.

"You actually live here?" She followed behind Aarav, stunned at the sheer opulence at it all. There was yet another fountain off to the side, making her eyes widen. 

"Yes." Barely soaring his surroundings a glance, he opened the door and was immediately greeted by a girl half his size. She wore a polka-dot dress and had black hair pulled into pigtails with pink bows. 

"You're back, Anna!" She launched herself into his arms. With a laugh, he spun her around before setting her back down. Jackie raised her eyebrows, surprised at how warm he appeared—a stark contrast from his stern demeanor during rehearsals.

"Anna?" Jackie tilted her head at Aarav.

"It's Telugu," he explained. "Means brother."

"Aadhira, this is Jackie." He knelt down to look the girl in the eye." Jackie, this is my sister."

"Nice to meet y—"

The girl wrapped her arms around her waist, making Jackie raise her eyebrows, and looked up at her with large brown eyes. "We're friends now! And that means you and Aarav can come play with the rest of us."

Behind her was a pile of giant plush animals of all shapes and colors.

"You'll play, won't you?" Aadhira pleaded. "Or at least help convince Amma to buy me an elephant."

Aarav pulled Aadhira away with a gentle smile and patted her head. "We have to study math first but I promise another time, okay?"

"Fine," she whined. "But remember you promised."

. . .

6:47 p.m.

Jackie had spent the last two or three hours hunched over her geometry textbook in Aarav's room, marveling how the many theorems and formulas had finally managed to make sense with his help. She'd managed to understand more in a couple days of his tutoring than in weeks of class. She glanced at the crumpled pop quizzes she'd set aside earlier. Starkly contrasting with the white paper, the crimson ink made it look as though blood was spilled—the blood of her dying math grade. The upcoming test was her last chance to turn things around or else Jackie would be cut from the play.

Aarav tapped the edge of the book. "Focus. We're almost through."

"But my homework's finished."

"We should review to make sure you have everything down."

She stifled a groan, reminding herself that while Aarav was a stern teacher, he was taking time out of his busy schedule to help her. And besides, his study habits obviously worked considering that he was set to graduate as valedictorian. Or salutatorian if Madison or Iris overtook him. Even as a junior, she heard the murmurings of the upper class. People were making bets on who's come out on top by the end.

For the next hour, Jackie endured him quizzing her on multiple theorems and outlining different triangle problems. By the time they finished, she was confident about math—a feeling she hadn't had in a while.

"I think... that's everything," she remarked, still in wonder that she'd made so much progress. 

She looked around his room, which smelled distinctly of coffee. It had deep green walls and dark wood furniture. Tall shelves lined one side, filled with novels and textbooks all neatly organized and color-coded. It was spotless with not a speck of dust was to be seen. Except for the pile of clothes and books shoved off to the side. Two empty mugs were set on the edge of the dark oak nightstand. 

In the corner, partially hidden by the desk, was a black guitar case. A light layer of dust covered it with the smear of fingerprints.

"You play?" 

Aarav never seemed like the guitar type. But then again, you never knew with people. Jackie supposed she shouldn't have been surprised he played an instrument. He did have a high appreciation for the arts and the wealth to pursue it.

Aarav followed her gaze and then shrugged. "Sometimes."

"You never told me."

"You never asked." 

"Seriously though, that's so cool." 

"I'm not particularly good at it. I can only play a couple songs." He adjusted his glasses. "Besides, I mostly quit."

"Play a song."

"Not happening."

Jackie sighed and leaned back onto the bed. "So mean." 

She allowed her head to sink into the pillows, her hair fanning out against the green fabric. Green. He wore so much green, whether it was a blazer or a shirt. Speaking of which…

"Why do you wear the blazers so much?"

"Habit." Aarav shrugged. 

"Almost like my ribbon." Jackie toyed with the ends of her hair. It was bad for the health, but she was sure he'd heard that multiple times. Didn't need her to repeat it.

"I guess. You do wear it all the time." 

"Red's my favorite color. It's lucky." 

"Funny." Aarav smiled faintly. "Green's mine for the same reason." 

"Complementary colors. Opposite colors."

"Like Christmas."

Jackie giggled. "I don't celebrate Christmas." 

Being Vietnamese with a Buddhist mother, her winter break was filled with early celebrations for the upcoming lunar new year, complete with feasts and visits to the nearest temple. Tết typically fell between late January and early February depending on the moon cycle. No one had time off then. It was easier to celebrate a month ahead when everyone had time off. 

"I don't either." 

"I just like the pretty lights." She shifted upright to face him, setting her hands in her lap. "My mom and I used to drive through all the rich neighborhoods to look at their decorations." 

"My parents always thought it was a waste." He shrugged and cleared off crumpled papers from the desk. 

"We'll continue tomorrow." Aarav reached for his keys. "Come on, I'll drive you home."

Jackie nudged his shoulder, causing him to push her back, and both headed out the door with their laughter carrying out into the cool evening air.

"Hey Aarav?" 

"What is it?"

"Thanks. You didn't have to help me and you guys still did. You've really helped me understand math better."

Aarav shrugged, his expression neutral except for the hint of a smile on his face. A smile that sent a flutter of warmth through her. "It wasn't that big of a deal. You were about to be pulled out from the play, so I decided to tutor you." 

"Still though. You deserve a thank you. Everyone does from time to time, even for small actions."

. . .

Grades were updated every Sunday at 3 p.m. with the most recent exam scores and assignments posted online. His father was the first to comment on the drop in his chemistry average. A slip from a 97 to 95. Aarav had done everything for an A in the reputably hardest IB class at Westminster. The last shred of his sanity was hanging on by a thread.

Secure in his rank as number one, he'd grown complacent and lazy. Overly confident. Aarav knew he needed to get back on track or he would have to give up any hope of winning valedictorian. The thought of Madison Aster walking across the stage with the coveted stole dangling over her neck made his stomach twist. He gritted his teeth and dug his fingers into a page of his textbook. The paper crumpled beneath his force.

He wouldn't have cared half as much about grades if it weren't for the impossible expectations his parents set. Aarav was desperate—desperate to run all the way to the top, fingers clawing for the bar that kept rising higher and higher, clinging to the rungs of the ladder to keep from tumbling back down. 

Nothing stung worse than disappointment. When his father's eyes had darkened upon seeing his new scores, the pain carved deep into his bones. He had ultimately tied his self-worth to grades, his happiness to the high of academic validation. He was an addict with parents' praise as the drug of his choice. A single nod of acknowledgment infused him with temporary relief and when the high faded, he craved more. Aarav would do anything to bask in his parents' pride. 

So at 2 am, Aarav's bleary eyes squinted at the glaring computer screen, bright against the darkness of his room. He'd finished off at least three cups of coffee and only progressed halfway through his speech for the nearing debate tournament. As captain, it was his responsibility to lead the team to victory. A leadership position meant nothing if he didn't win. Nothing meant anything without winning. 

Neither parent would bat an eye if he came home without a trophy, no matter how hard he tried.

Aarav was half-asleep when his mother, having just arrived home from work, entered his room to check on him. She leaned over his desk as her hands slid a steaming cup of chai over. 

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, shining in the darkness of his lamplight. "Do you need any help?"

"I'm almost done."

Amma patted his shoulder. Even after she left, the ghost of her touch lingered on his skin. He enveloped himself in the shred of open affection, stretching it with memory to last.

Exhaustion meant nothing. Not when the reward was success. He couldn't afford to fall asleep now. He had to finish the debate essay. He couldn't mess up. He couldn't miss a deadline.

4:14 am.

But maybe he could take a break.

Aarav opened the bedroom window and nimbly climbed across the outstretched branches and into the treehouse of the Sinclairs' backyard. He settled into his usual position against the aging floorboards while his eyes adjusted to the darkness. A small black spider scurried across, its spindly legs brushing against his skin. 

He lit a cigarette and room a deep inhale. The old treehouse of his childhood was a sanctuary. The temple of friendship oaths obscured from view in the corner. Aarav sighed and exhaled a stream of smoke, the catharsis relaxing his muscles. The knot in his chest loosened.  

He'd barely been accepted into Westminster in freshmen year, having gained admittance off the wait list. Now surrounded by students with greater drive and ability and wealth, Aarav choked down the bitter taste of self-doubt. National academic decathlon winners and world-class athletes. Heirs to business empires and blue blood socialites.  

Everyone seemed to have it all together. So accomplished with prestigious internships. And here he was, trying to keep from splitting at the seams, clawing desperately to keep his head above water. He wasn't struggling. He had it as easy as they all did. Number one. He'd be the best. He was unbeatable. 

Aarav crushed the blunt beneath his shoe and dug around for another cigarette. He flicked the lighter on and off but didn't yet press the flame to the paper. What was even the point of all this? Just how far was he willing to go for his parents' validation? 

The flicker of blue danced before his eyes. He pressed it to the end of the cigarette and watched it sizzle and the ashes flutter to the floor. 

He didn't want to know the answer.