Every single class that Rachel and I have together goes exactly like it had in English. She answers every single question right. Oftentimes, before the teacher even asks it. It’s weird. It’s weirder than weird. But the worst part is that no one seems disturbed by her sudden braveness or knowledge. In fact, the teachers seem to love it. Even our classmates—the very ones who, just days earlier, pretended she didn’t exist—go out of their way before or after class to talk to her. To ask her how she knows everything.

I hear her answer as I push past everyone after our final class, history—no one makes space for me as they crowd around her desk. No one seems to notice I exist.

“You can thank Samantha for that,” Rachel says when some girl asks why she’s never raised her hand before. “Because of her, I’ve learned how to stand up for myself. I’ve learned that if you want something, you have to be willing to do anything—anything—to get it. No matter what.” Rachel looks at me. “And now that I know what I want, I think I’ll follow her lead and take it.”

In the back of my mind, I can hear the splash of water as I shoved her into the lake.

I don’t wait around to hear what else she has to say.

I run.