I sat in Mr. Peterson’s advanced calculus class, staring blankly at the whiteboard. My mind wasn’t on derivatives or integrals—I needed money, and fast. Without cash, half the things I needed to do were impossible. My skills as Shadow were essentially useless without proper funding.

I could hack into some accounts—my abilities as “X” remained intact—but using those skills too soon might draw attention from unwanted sources. I needed to lay low until I’d fully adapted to this new life. Perhaps some small-scale gambling? Or maybe some discreet “problem-solving” for wealthy clients with legal gray areas…

“Ms. Morgan!”

I blinked, finding Mr. Peterson looming over my desk, his face twisted with irritation.

“Since you find my lesson so boring that you’re daydreaming, perhaps you’d like to enlighten the class with the answer to this problem?” He gestured dramatically to a complex multivariable calculus equation on the board.

The classroom fell silent. Everyone knew Jade Morgan was the class dunce in mathematics. This was Peterson’s way of humiliating me, a punishment for not paying attention.

I glanced at the problem, then at Peterson’s smug face. The equation was laughably simple to someone who had calculated bullet trajectories accounting for wind speed, distance, and the curvature of the Earth.

“Ms. Morgan, we’re waiting. Or would you prefer to continue being a burden to this class’s GPA?”

I stood slowly, walked to the whiteboard, and picked up a marker. With quick, confident strokes, I not only solved the problem but expanded it to show an elegant solution method that hadn’t been covered in class yet.

I turned and handed the marker back to Mr. Peterson, whose mouth hung slightly open.

“The approach in our textbook is unnecessarily complicated,” I said evenly. “This method is more efficient and provides deeper insight into the underlying mathematical principles.”

The class sat in stunned silence. Peterson sputtered, his face reddening.

“That’s… that’s correct. But this approach isn’t in our curriculum.”

“Then perhaps your curriculum needs updating,” I replied, returning to my seat. “And as an educator, you might want to consider that humiliating students isn’t an effective teaching strategy.”

A few students gasped. Others looked at me with newfound respect. Peterson cleared his throat, clearly flustered, and mumbled something about “lucky guesses” before hastily moving on with the lesson.

After school, I spotted Max ahead of me on the path home, dragging his bad leg slightly as he walked alone. He hadn’t waited for me. I quickened my pace to catch up.

“Max,” I called out.

He turned, surprise flashing across his face. “Oh. Hey.”

I fell into step beside him. “Why didn’t you wait for me after school?”

Max looked away. “Didn’t think you’d want to be seen with me. Especially after…” He trailed off.

“After what?”

“After I couldn’t even stand up for myself against those guys. They were saying stuff about you, and I tried, but—”

“What guys?”

“Just some football players. It doesn’t matter.”

We walked in silence for a bit, Max’s limp more pronounced after a full day at school. I noticed how he occasionally winced when putting weight on his left foot.

“Are you really going to take the college applications seriously?” Max asked after a while, changing the subject. “You’ve never seemed to care before.”

“Yes,” I replied simply.

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