The Double ( or More ?) Life of The Fake Heiress

Mirabella had just capped her pen when the proctor’s cough echoed from above her head. She glanced us to find him pacing slowly away, hands clasped behind his back, his voice serious and firm as he announced, “One hour left, folks. If you haven’t finished, better hustle. If you’re done, double check your

work.”

The proctor was none other than the head of the math department. He remembered Mirabella from her stunning victory at the last international competition and was curious to see how she would handle the math in this current league contest. Would she surpass all expectations again, as she had last time?

So, as soon as the second round of exams began, he regularly descended from his podium, strolling nonchalantly past Mirabella’s desk, impressed and somewhat alarmed by her rapid progress. His reminders were meant to spur carefulness in her, but they sent a wave of panic through the rest of the students. They were only halfway through their exams and couldn’t believe someone had already finished Mirabella knew the score. She didn’t hand in her paper early to avoid causing a stir. Instead, she wanted until the last minute to leave the exam room.

After the second round of the contest, the gloom on the students‘ faces was even thicker than after the first. Eighty percent hadn’t finished their work.

Mirabella waited for Jenna under a banyan tree by the schoolyard, dressed in a black hoodie paired with ripped jeans and draped in a khaki coat that elongated her frame. Her hands were stuffed casually in her pockets, her head bowed, toe tapping on the ground–a picture of effortless nonchalance.

Vincent approached, noting that Mira’s demeanor was as composed as ever. “Waiting for someone?” he asked.

Hearing his voice, Mirabella looked up and hummed an affirmation, then took the initiative to ask, “Howd the test go for you today?”

“The first one was okay, but I’ve never seen the types of problems that were on the second. Probably didn’t do as well as I hoped,” Vincent replied slowly. His words suggested disappointment, but his demeanor didn’t reflect any significant distress, indicating he hadn’t done too poorly.

Mirabella nodded, her voice light. “This time, the questions were off the charts. I reckon everyone’s scores will be on the lower side.”

Vincent cast a sidelong glance at her, not taking her words as consolation. “And you? How do you feel about it?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, “I’d only bring you down if I told you.”

Vincent’s heart sank. Thanks, I’m already there.

“I’m gonna head out,” Vincent said, feeling a little suffocated.

Mirabella pulled her hand from her pocket and gave him a wave.

Not long after Vincent had left, Jenna arrived, her face the epitome of post–examn blues. With a chuckle, Mirabella playfully poked Jenna’s chubby cheek. “Hey, feeling roughed up, huh?”

Jenna tried to dodge the playful assault, complaining, “The second test wasn’t designed for normal people, you know. Four long problems, and I flat out didn’t solve two. The other two? Pure guesswork.”

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A smirk tugged at Mirabella’s lips. “Tough… really tough.”

Jenna sighed heavily. She wanted to ask Mirabella how she fared, but anticipating the superhuman level of her friend’s performance, she clamped her mouth shut. Asking was just inviting more defeat.