The Enemy Hypothesis: A Brazos High Novella

by Sparling, Amy

  “What if Janelle and Annabel are working together? What if it’s all fake?” I say as I pace back and forth in the small storage closet. “What if they just want us to go run off and tell someone and then the principals will investigate and find out that Annabel is totally innocent and we get in trouble for making up rumors? They’d kick us out of the contest for this. Then the car will never be mine.”

  “You mean the car will never be mine,” he says in this insufferably playful way.

  I scowl at him. “I don’t want you to win the car but I definitely don’t want someone who is cheating to win the car.”

  “Look,” Mark says, running a hand through his silky black hair. I really wish I had kept my eyes on the floor so I wouldn’t have seen that just now. It’s such a sexy move it should be illegal. “I’m just as paranoid as everyone else, probably more so now that I’m in the top five but… Janelle looked sincere. I think we should trust her.”

  “How well do you know her?” I ask.

  “Not at all. I didn’t even know her name until just now.”

  I groan. I know Janelle from class but we aren’t really friends. She hangs out with the band and none of her friends overlap with mine. “Then what makes you think we can trust her?”

  Mark shrugs. “She had photo evidence, and she seemed like she wanted to help.”

  “Yeah but everyone wants to win,” I say, continuing my pacing from one end of the closet to the other. I get about ten steps each way, but it’s better than standing still. “People are going to do crazy things to get points—or to demolish the people at the top. We’re prime targets right now.

  I reach the wall and turn around, only to be stopped by Mark standing right in front of me. He puts his hands on my shoulders. “Breathe,” he says.

  But he’s so cute it’s hard to breathe under normal circumstances. It’s even harder to breathe now, when I’m in the middle of a freak out and can practically visualize that car slipping from my grasp. I stare up and look into his dark eyes. For a few moments, I totally forget to breathe.

  Mark’s lips turn up into the smallest little smile. “Inhale,” he says softly.

  I do, slowly pulling air into my lungs.

  “Now exhale,” he says a moment later. His hands are still on my shoulders and we’re standing so close in such a small space. My heart is positively going wild.

  With great concentration, I manage to exhale without going into full on hyperventilation mode. “Again,” Mark says. I breathe in and out a few more times and it does actually help me a little. I don’t feel like I’m on the verge of panic anymore, but I’m not exactly happy about this whole thing.

  “We should tell on her,” Mark says. “We can do it anonymously.”

  “But what if it’s a trick?”

  Dropping his hands from my shoulders, he scrunches his face up in disbelief. “Eh… that’s a long shot.”

  I suddenly miss the warmth of his hands. But I will not think of that. I swallow. “I don’t want to risk it. If we tell, and it really was a trick and Annabel and Janelle were partnering up to take us out of the competition, then we’re over. We’ll be kicked out and we won’t get the car.”

  “Okay, but what if Janelle was telling the truth?” Mark says. “What if, no matter how many volunteer hours we put in, or how many nice things we do, we’re still always five thousand points behind her?”

  “As much as I want to believe that, I can’t,” I say after a moment of thought. “I just have to trust that the best person will win. After all, the video said it’s a special algorithm. There’s no way it got hacked.”

  “Everything can get hacked!” Mark says, throwing up his hands. “I’m giving you the opportunity to do with this with me and share the glory, but if you don’t believe it, then I’ll tell. And I’ll get tons of kudos when everyone finds out that I outed a cheater.”

  “You can’t tell anyone!” I say, glaring at him. “Janelle knows she told both of us. If it’s a trick then we’re both going down.”

  Mark rolls his eyes. “You are—” he starts, but then he lets out an annoyed sigh and shakes his head. “Whatever.”

  “I’m what?” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “What am I, Mark Caputo? Please tell me.”

  “It’s nothing,” he says, walking toward the door. I hate it because this conversation is not going anywhere, but I still don’t want him to leave.

  “Tell me,” I demand.

  He opens the door and then turns back to me. “I was just thinking it’s too bad you’re my competition because in any other circumstance, I would have totally asked you out.”

  And then he leaves.

  Just like that, he walks out and closes the door behind him.

  I stare at the door for a long time. I can’t believe what I just heard. What he said. It’s really messing with me. I almost call Jules a dozen times and tell her what Mark said, hoping she can help me translate it because maybe I interpreted it wrong.

  But… he said he wanted to ask me out! Holy crap. Why, oh why is that stuck in my head now?

  And then it hits me. He’s lying.

  This app has transformed the entire student body at Brazos High School. We’re all playing this phycological game and pretending to be nice to each other. Mark Caputo is playing the game as well. He’s saying whatever it takes to get into my head and trip me up so he can prevail and win that car.

  This is war, and he is my number one enemy who just tried to trick me.

  I can’t believe I almost fell for it.

  Ten

  MARK

  Abby and I don’t speak for the next two weeks. I think I catch her looking at me during accounting class a few times, but every time I try to smile or get her attention, she looks away. Every morning I wake up and check the app. Both Abby and I have slipped down and risen up in the scoreboard multiple times over the last two weeks. Everyone in school has changed their position on the board. Everyone except Annabel. She’s still in first place and hasn’t left that spot since the first day the app opened. And no matter how many good things I do, or how many free makeovers Abby gives in her cosmetology class, Annabel remains about five thousand points in the lead.

  I can’t stand knowing that a cheater will win this contest. I also don’t want to make Abby hate me forever by going behind her back and telling the principal about the cheating freshman. But time is running out, and we need to do something. I keep hoping for a way to find Abby alone and talk to her again, but she avoids me at every turn.

  This weekend marks exactly one week left to win the competition. On Friday, I get called into the office with nine other people, including Abby and Annabel. At a quick glance I can tell we’re the top ten people on the current scoreboard. The principal introduces us to some dude wearing the same polo shirt the guy from the Un-bully video had worn. Luckily, it’s a different guy and this one isn’t as cheesy when he talks to us. He gives us all permission slips and tells us that the top ten students on the scoreboard are invited to visit the car dealership that’s giving us a car tomorrow. The permission slips are for the cameras. Apparently they want content of us picking out which car we’d get if we won so they can use it for future promotional videos and put it on their social media.

  I really want to go, if only to spend time with Abby at a dealership, but that means I have to tell my parents what’s going on. I head to the restaurant just before the dinner rush to tell them about the contest, the app, and the prize.

  Mom’s curiosity is piqued when I mention the car. “Can you sell it for cash? Or just take the cash instead of the car?” she asks.

  “The rules say we can’t get cash instead, but I guess once it’s ours we can sell it.”

  “That’s good,” Mom says. “But what makes you think you’ll win?”

  I think of Annabel and her five thousand point lead. I’m currently around twenty-five thousand points and Abby is not too far ahead of me. But Annabel is at thirty thousand. Everything Janelle said has bee
n true—never once has Annabel slipped in the ranks, but everyone else has.

  I shrug. “I might not win. But I’m in third place right now.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen my parents as excited as they are when I tell them the news. Luckily Julian is busy waiting tables so he doesn’t hear this conversation. He’d no doubt find some way to insult me about the achievement.

  “So can I go to the dealership tomorrow?” I ask, handing over the permission slip. “It’ll mean I have to miss the lunch rush at work, but—”

  “Of course you’re going,” Mom says. She swipes the paper from my hand, signs it quickly, and then shoves it back at me. “You have one week to win this car so we can sell it. The money will help us tremendously.”

  “Or I could just keep the car?” I suggest.

  My parents both roll their eyes. Dad gets pulled away by his assistant manager, leaving my mom to answer. “Your car is better than some cheap free car,” Mom says. “You’ll win the free car and we’ll sell it for cash.”

  * * *

  When I arrive at the dealership, I see Abby getting off at the 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 be posted online. There are too many people around us, including Annabel herself. We have to pose for several photos and then answer some questions as a group about how we’ve worked hard to defeat bullying and what we’ve learned so far this month. Everyone lies. We don’t bother saying anything about how all these nice activities are just fake, just ploys to get kudos. Instead, we go along with it, all smiles and friendly words that reinforce the Un-bully initiative.

  When we’re finally done, I try to break away and talk to Abby again, but she’s walking with Rinah and a couple other girls. I call her name, but she doesn’t hear me.

  Roy walks up, bringing the strong smell of his cologne with him. “You sweet on her?” he asks in a thick southern accent.

  “What?” I say, louder than I should.

  He chuckles and smacks me on the back. “Well, that answers my question. Definitely sweet on the girl.”

  “No I’m not,” I say, glancing around to make sure no one is listening.

  He just laughs even harder. “Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

  Eleven

  ABBY

  This competition has me paranoid. Ever since it started, the school has become this different type of ecosystem. Sure, some people don’t care about winning a car or they don’t want to put in the effort to win. Others even thought it would be fun to try to have the lowest score possible. Some students have even been so apathetic abo
ut the whole thing that they just go on with life as usual, not caring one bit about the app. But the people who do care have made everything so stressful.

  Every morning I wake up and wonder if I still want to do this. I haven’t had five minutes of peace and quiet since this month started. At school, I have to be “on” all the time—giving so much of myself to make everyone reward me with kudos. After school, I’m volunteering, taking my sisters to all their activities, and dealing with their back-talking and general little sister annoying traits. An hour or two (or three) before bed, I’m on social media leaving comments and interacting so everyone remembers to keep giving me kudos.

  And the worst part of all? No matter how many kudos I get, Annabel Johnson has about five thousand more. If her score was exactly five thousand more than mine, I’d feel more confident that she was cheating. But it’s not. Every day, it’s some random number more that averages to about five thousand more than mine. Sometimes 4952 more, sometimes 5013 more. But never 5000 exactly. That’s why I can’t risk tattle-telling on her when it might get me in trouble, despite the fact that Janelle’s tip has caused me so much stress I am now walking around feeling like there’s a massive ball of stress in my chest.

  It’s Sunday today and I haven’t thought of any volunteer work to do. The animal shelter is closed to volunteers today, I’m all out of lashes and makeup to do free makeovers, and I have no money to buy more, and I’ve fulfilled every homework assignment I agreed to “help” people with. So today is going to be my day to relax. After all, tomorrow starts the final week to win that car, and I’ll be busier than ever.

  If I don’t give up first. I’ll just have to visualize that gorgeous red Jeep at the dealership. Earlier this month, the idea of winning a car was exciting enough. I hadn’t even thought of what kind of car I wanted. I thought just any car would be perfect. But then I saw the Jeep. It’s beautiful and sporty and has all these new high-tech features that I didn’t even know cars had. I love it. I want is so bad. That’s why I haven’t given up yet.