Chapter 2

Chapter 1: The New Track

The end of my sophomore year felt like being trapped in an oven.

The bulletin board in the main lobby was packed with students. The list for the advanced math track was plastered on the wall in bright, bold print. I stood on my tiptoes, pushing through the crowd until my bangs were plastered to my forehead with sweat. Finally, I reached the front.

My eyes scanned the list from the top down.

Advanced Math Section A.

My name was in the second row―Chloe Vance. It was written in neat, clear script. Then, my eyes drifted to the right, landing on the column labeled “Seatmate.”

Silas Sterling.

I froze.

It wasn’t just a second or two; it was a full five seconds of pure shock. Someone behind me shoved my shoulder and grumbled, “Chloe, you’re blocking the view!” I snapped back to reality and stumbled back against the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted to break free.

Silas Sterling. The school’s number one academic ace. Not just the top of our class, but the entire grade. For two years, since we entered freshman year, nobody had ever seen him smile. It wasn’t that he couldn’t; it was that his smile was a secret even his closest peers hadn't witnessed.

They called him the “Iceberg Prodigy”―a title that clung to him like a layer of permafrost.

“Chloe, have you lost your mind? You’re sitting with Silas?” Mia Reed, my seatmate for the past year, appeared from the crowd with a look that said I was doomed. “He barely says ten words a semester! Are you trying to turn into a human icicle yourself?”

“You don’t get it,” I said, hugging my textbooks to my chest while wearing a dopey grin.

Before I could explain, I was surrounded.

Tyler Miller―the class clown who thrived on drama―pushed to the front of the board and hoisted his phone up. “Alright, everyone! The bets are open! Will Chloe Vance win over the Iceberg in three months?”

His voice boomed loud enough for the whole floor to hear.

The odds for “Success” were fifteen-to-one.

The odds for “Failure” were slim at zero-point-eight.

Within ten minutes, thirty-nine names were on the list. Out of forty-two people, thirty-nine bet against me. Only three didn’t: me, the bookie Tyler, and that guy who slept in the back of the class.

Tyler took a photo of the betting list and blasted it into the grade’s group chat. The caption read: “Our brave warrior Chloe Vance is launching a full-scale assault on the Iceberg! What do you think?”

Within five minutes, over a hundred comments blew up the feed.

The top comment was from Bella St. James, the “it girl” from Section C. “Chloe’s got guts, but Silas... how do I put this? When he looks at people, he looks at them like they’re a math problem he’s already solved. It’s not hate, it’s just the look you give a mistake you’re annoyed to find.”

The second comment followed: “I once tried to hand him a love letter. He handed it back, unopened. There was a sticky note on it that said: ‘Don't bother. The answer is wrong.’”

The third one read: “Leave her alone. At least Chloe’s trying. What if it actually works?”

The fourth chimed in: “There is no ‘what if.’ Silas is the iceberg, and Chloe is the flame. When fire hits an iceberg, the fire just goes out.”

I stared at my phone screen, and to everyone’s surprise, I started laughing.

It wasn’t a bitter laugh; it was genuine. Because no one knew the truth―when Silas looked at me, he never looked at me like a wrong answer.

There was something in his eyes I’d never seen from anyone else. It was hard to define. It wasn’t burning heat or blinding intensity. It was like sunlight spilling through a window in the middle of winter―not scalding, but warm enough to make you want to stay in that spot for an entire afternoon.

But I couldn't say any of that out loud. If I did, I’d just become the school’s next joke.

Mia leaned in and whispered, “Are you really going to pursue him?”

I thought about it for a second and said, “I’m not pursuing him.”

“Huh?”

“He’s different,” I told her.

She didn’t understand. But I did.