Never Underestimate Girl Math novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Stake

Peyton bets that the loser of the Whitaker Cup leaves Harlow, and Lou takes it with only one teammate.

The Whitaker Cup sign-up table stood in the atrium of Milledge Hall, and by noon there was a crowd around it.

I had not planned to go.

Hannah Troup dragged me there by the sleeve.

She was my roommate, a short girl with red curls and glasses, and she had been talking since breakfast.

"You solved question six in seconds flat," she said. "Seconds, Lou. The whole dorm is talking about it."

"It was a crate problem."

"It was a hundred and twenty thousand dollars."

I stopped walking.

The banner over the table said it plainly.

THE WHITAKER CUP. Four-person modelling teams. Winning team receives $120,000 and a guaranteed four-year award from the Foundation.

The Foundation that was reviewing my scholarship.

I stared at the number for a while.

My father's back had cost him a hospital bill he never talked about.

"There you are," said a voice behind me.

Peyton Whitaker stood at the edge of the crowd with Preston at her shoulder and six of her friends fanned out behind them.

She had fixed her face since yesterday.

She looked calm and pretty and very sure of herself.

"I heard you're thinking about entering," she said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I wasn't, until you said it."

People laughed.

Peyton smiled wider.

"My father's letter was a formality," she said. "He's very careful with the Foundation's money. But I'm sure we can settle it fairly."

She stepped up to the table and tapped the banner.

"One Cup. Your team against mine. If you lose, you drop out of Harlow, and you say so in front of all these people."

My stomach turned over.

"And if I win?"

"You won't." She tilted her head. "But fine. If you win, I'll kneel right here and apologize for everything."

The crowd made a low, delighted noise.

Preston grinned.

I looked at Hannah, who had gone pale behind her glasses, and then back at Peyton.

"Not good enough," I said.

Peyton's smile stalled.

"If I win, the review ends. In writing, from your father, with my award restored for all four years."

"Lou," Hannah whispered.

"And you kneel in this room," I said, "in front of everyone you invited."

Silence.

Peyton's eyes went to the crowd, and every phone in the room was up.

She could not say no.

"Done," she said, and the word came out hard.

"And you'll need a full team of four."

"Good luck finding three people who want to lose with you."

She walked off with her friends trailing after her.

The crowd began to talk all at once.

I picked up the pen on the table and signed my name at the top of the sign-up sheet.

My hand was steady.

Hannah took the pen out of my fingers and signed under me.

"I'm terrible at modelling," she said. "I'm good at statistics, and I'm very loud, and I hate her."

"That's a good start."

"It's a great start."

We had two.

The rest of the afternoon, we stood by that table and asked.

A quiet physics junior said yes after ten minutes.

A sophomore from the chess club said yes because Preston had once laughed at his rating.

We had four names.

Then the volunteer behind the table frowned at the form.

"Every team needs a faculty advisor of record," she said. "A professor or a teaching assistant. Someone has to sign."

I felt the whole thing wobble.

Every professor I knew had a Whitaker name on a building or a fellowship on a desk.

None of them would sign for the farm girl.

"I'll do it."

The voice came from behind me, low and dry.

I turned around.

He was leaning against a pillar with his sleeves rolled to the elbow, tall and dark-haired, with a thin scar through his left eyebrow.

He looked about twenty-six.

I knew him from the lecture hall, where he had stood in the back as the teaching assistant and never said a word.

He took the pen and signed the form without reading it.

Chase Gilmer.

"Why?" I asked.

He looked at me for a second too long.

"I watched you do question six," he said.

"Nobody in this building has ever solved it that way."

"I want to see what else you can do."

Hannah made a small choking sound.

Chase capped the pen.

"The math lab is on the third floor of this building," he said. "I'll leave it open tonight. Come at eleven."

Then he walked away.

I stood there with my pulse going for no reason I wanted to name.

I had a team, an advisor, and a bet in front of two hundred people.

And a man I had never spoken to had just told me exactly when to meet him, alone, after dark.

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