The Enemy Hypothesis: A Brazos High Novella

bus stop across the street. I wish I had her phone number so I could have offered her a ride. All of this not talking and carefully avoiding each other sucks. I’m trying to tell myself it’s because we’re competitors and we can’t be friends because of it, but I laid out my feelings in that storage closet and she just ignored me. I told her that under different circumstances, I’d want to ask her out. That’s a big deal. I guess it’s not so big to her.
That same guy from the other day at school is here along with one cameraman. We each get partnered up with a salesperson who walks us around the lot and helps us choose our dream car, the one we’ll get if we win. My salesman is a gray-haired man named Roy who looks about as old as my grandfather. He spends the first ten minutes telling me about how he’s worked here for forty years and he knows everything about cars. I wish I could tell him that it doesn’t matter what car I get—that the only thing I’m interested in is the resell value of the car. But of course, I don’t, because that would be awkward.
We make our way around the dealership. I really like a black Toyota truck with black wheels, so I decide that’s the one I want. It looks more fun than my Lexus. I didn’t even get to pick out my Lexus because my parents chose it for me, saying they wanted me to drive around in something nice that represented the family. The cameraman comes around and films me talking to the polo shirt guy (I forget his name) about the truck I’ve chosen. It’s so weird talking with a camera in my face, but I think I manage to get through it without saying anything that makes me look stupid.
I keep an eye out for Abby and I finally find her standing next to a red Jeep. Casually, I make my way over there and eavesdrop on her conversation with the polo shirt guy.
“So what made you choose this car?” he asks, pointing his microphone at her.
“It’s beautiful,” she says, glancing adoringly at the Jeep. “Plus it’s big enough to haul around my three younger sisters.”
“Wow! You have three sisters?” he asks.
She nods. “And they have a million places to go. Winning this car would mean not taking public transportation anymore.”
“The good news is you’re in second place,” he says, turning to smile at the camera. “Keep practicing kindness and you’ve got a good chance to win the car of your dreams from the Un-bully team!”
Abby’s fake smile fades away as the guy talks. Can’t say I blame her. As long as Annabel is cheating at this competition, Abby will never be able to win.
After our individual interviews next to the car we choose, we’re all brought into the large lobby with glass walls and fancy sports cars parked on shiny marble floors. We get to meet the owner of the dealership and some of the top ten students are star struck. This guy is on TV commercials after all, and his dealership is the second largest one in the state. I think it’s a little lame, and like he’s parading us around his dealership just to make himself look good on social media. But I am a fan of the free pizza they give out.
I grab a slice of pepperoni and meander my way toward Abby, who is eating cheese pizza and talking with Rinah, who is currently in sixth place. “If we don’t win a free car, at least we get free pizza,” I say with a smile.
Rinah laughs. “It’s pretty good pizza, too!”
Abby looks over but doesn’t say anything. Ugh. I hate this. I want to be her friend even though I shouldn’t. I want to be more than that. Even though I shouldn’t.
The cameraman and the guy from the app make their way around to each one of us for a quick interview. Rinah, Abby, and I are at the back of the group, so we’ll go last.
“Ugh, I don’t want to do this,” Abby says, staring nervously at the person being interviewed just across the lobby.
“Camera shy?” I ask.
She shrugs. “It’s just awkward. It’s not like we’re going to win anyway.”
She shoots a scowl toward Annabel, who is all smiles as everyone fawns over her for being the month’s reigning queen of the competition so far.
I take a step closer to Abby, lowering my voice. “You know we could still say something.”
Her eyes dart up to mine, and instead of her usual contempt, I see… sadness? “I think about it every day,” she admits, lowering her voice so much I can barely hear it.
“So why don’t we say something?” I prod.
She shakes her head, her gaze still at Annabel. “Because I wouldn’t win anyway.”
“You’re in second place,” I say. “If we get her kicked out, you’ll win.”
She shakes her head. “Not for long. You’re only a few points behind me, and I’m exhausted. I don’t know how you do it, Mark.” Her eyes flit to mine. “I’ve been busting my butt for three weeks. I barely sleep because I’m too busy volunteering, or helping, or writing essays.”
“You’re writing essays?” I say, eyes wide.
She shrugs. “Technically I’m editing them, but everyone sends me the worst possible drafts, knowing I’ll make them much better. All for some stupid kudos. I’m killing myself here, and I can’t keep it up. I don’t even care who wins the car anymore.”
My heart breaks for her. She’s been doing so much more than I have. The volunteering, the free makeup stuff. All I’ve done is talk to more people, leave friendly comments on social media, and volunteer at the animal shelter a few times a week. I don’t know why I’m even in third place. I definitely don’t deserve it.
Before I can say anything, we’re rounded up again for a group photo that will