plugged from my cold, and I didn’t quite catch
what she said. I hesitated for a moment.
“I said, scan the QR code.”
Ethan stepped closer. “Dummy,” he said, his
tone familiar, as if nothing had changed. He
reached into my pocket, intending to scan the
code for me, like he always did. But the
passcode, which he’d always known, was no
longer working. He froze, speechless.
“Thanks,” I said, stepping away from him,
taking my phone back, and scanning the code
myself. After filling out the form and confirming
my registration, I practically ran out of the
office.
As I turned the corner, someone grabbed my
wrist, their grip tight, revealing suppressed
anger.
“Done playing games?” Ethan’s voice was
harsh, but his posture betrayed his unease.
“Ethan, let go.”
“Why did you lead Riley on, and then sign up for
the competition?”
“Is there a connection between those two
things?” I asked.
“Yes.” He stared into my eyes. “If you were
trying to get my attention, it worked.”
“The hot–and–cold act suits you.” He released
my hand, his usual arrogance returning. “Stay
away from him.”
“Why shouldn’t I talk to him?”
“I’ll go out with you.” He repeated himself, as if he couldn’t believe the words had come out of
his mouth. “Amy, I’ll go out with you.”
I’d liked him for so long, but even during our
most ambiguous moments, I never really
thought he’d actually date me. It had been a
gamble, a reckless pursuit with no expectation.
of a win. I just wanted to pour out all my pent-
up feelings, to lose spectacularly, but at least
have some closure. He’d strung me along,
enjoying my attention, but refusing to give me a
definitive answer. And now, finally, he was
offering me something, a reluctant concession.
I’d loved him so fiercely, so bravely, and in the
end, he couldn’t even face me with honesty. He
was the coward.
I smiled, a genuine smile this time, and said
calmly, “No, thanks.”
“Ethan, I don’t like you anymore.”
On the day of the competition, Riley called me
while I was backstage preparing.
“Nervous?” he asked.
“Kind of.” It was chilly backstage, and my cold
wasn’t completely gone yet. I pulled my coat
tighter.
“It doesn’t matter what your accent is like.
Language is just a tool.” His voice sounded
warm. “I think your English sounds beautiful.”
“Anything you say sounds beautiful,” he added. “Even if it’s gibberish.”
“You’re the one talking gibberish.” I laughed,
the tension easing slightly.
“Amy.”
“Yeah?”
“I just submitted my application to switch
majors.”
“I want to study what I’m passionate about, not
try to prove anything anymore.” He sounded
sincere. “Thank you.”
I didn’t reply, imagining his voice as warm as
his hand had been when he held it on the
mountain.
“Riley, let’s make a bet.”
“What kind of bet?”
“If I win first place, you have to grant me one
wish.”
“My phone’s passcode.” he blurted out. “I
haven’t changed it since that day.”
“Not that.”
“…Fine.” He agreed, then added, learning his
lesson, “You too.”
10:29
<
42
The registrar said I need to be in the top three of my original major to transfer.” he continued. “If I manage to transfer, you have to grant me a
wish, too.”
“Deal.”
I hung up. It was almost my turn. Ethan had just
finished his speech. The applause was
deafening.
“He was amazing,” a fellow contestant
whispered. “I’m glad I’m not after him. The
pressure would be insane.”
I walked onto the stage, passing Ethan as he
walked off. He looked at me, his eyes filled with
an emotion I couldn’t decipher. I didn’t bother
trying.
I stood on the stage, facing the crowd. The
bright spotlights made it hard to see the
audience clearly. The blinding light reminded
<
me of an afternoon in middle school. I’d been
called on to read aloud in English class. I
stumbled over the words, my pronunciation
terrible. The teacher stopped me and called on
Ethan. “Ethan, you read,” she’d said.
He stood up, effortlessly reading the passage,
his voice smooth and natural. Back then,
everyone in class knew I had a crush on him.
After he sat down, the teacher looked at me
coldly and said, “Someone like him would never
be interested in someone with your skills.”
I was made to stand in the corner for the rest
of the day. After that, I was too embarrassed to
speak English in public.
But today, I spoke into the microphone, my
voice clear and confident, every word a hug to
my younger, insecure self.
Ethan won first place, again. I came in fifth, not
enough to qualify for the finals. But just
<
42
standing up there and speaking English was a victory in itself.
Ethan didn’t show up for the award ceremony.
He went to the same chowder place where I’d bought him soup when he was sick, and posted a picture on social media. A single, lonely bowl of chowder, gone cold. But nobody paid attention to his post. Everyone was talking
about how Riley had outscored Ethan on his pre–med exams, breaking Ethan’s winning streak.
“No way, how did he do it?”
“Suddenly I feel motivated to study! For like,
three minutes.”
“It was a close call, though. He only won by one point.”
“I bet Ethan will beat him next time.”
But there wouldn’t be a next time. A few days
later, Riley successfully transferred to the
cybersecurity program.
<
Over the summer, pictures of him occasionally
popped up on the university’s social media
pages. He’d cut his hair even shorter for the
summer heat, which made his features look
even sharper. His eyes were bright and focused,
his whole demeanor radiating confidence and a
touch of defiance. Ethan was always the center
of attention, but now, people were noticing
Riley.
One day, he showed up at my classroom
building, leaning against the wall outside, his
long legs stretched out, waiting for me to get
out of class. Students by the window
whispered, “That’s Riley Foster from
cybersecurity. What’s he doing at the law
school?”
They got their answer soon enough. He was
staring intently at me, sitting in the front row.
DogWhisperer: “You’re too obvious. Wait
somewhere else.”
<
HappyPup: sad puppy face emoji
He obediently left. Fifteen minutes later, I
texted him.
DogWhisperer: “Class dismissed.”
HappyPup: “Be right there!”
He chattered excitedly about hot pot
ingredients all the way to his car. When I got in,
I noticed the sleeping pills were gone from his
glove compartment.
“I got you mango ice cream, too!” he said,
humming, then took my hand.
The sky was clear, the roads open. We’d be
home in half an hour.
