A girl enters the library, slumped shoulders, eyes looking at the ground. Her hair, clothes, and makeup are raven black.

She waves to the librarian before making her way to the table across from me.

Her headphones are blasting metal music, the horrifying cacophony turning heads.

I make my way to tell her to turn the thing down, maybe remind her there are better fashion choices she could be making. But then I notice her ID badge.

In big, bold letters, it reads:

Sydney Nicholson

Grade 12

My heart drops. I return to my table before she notices me.

That girl is my competition for this years valedictorian. This prized title is awarded to the ones who’ve preservered, to the ones who dedicated their life to their grades and education. Students who dress like Sydney are the ones who don’t care, the ones who commit every act of rebellion in the book. They’ve never earned anything above a D, and are destined super seniors.

Yet this girl has broken the mold in the strangest way possible.

She heaves her backpack onto the table, gets out a laptop, and begins typing away. Her tongue sticks out as her mind locks into focus. The world around her fades down to whatever is on the screen.

I’ve been so convinced that I would win valedictorian, but as I admire her determination, I’m not even one paragraph into my essay by the time the library closes.