Chapter 3

The color drained from Chad's face, then flooded back as a dull red. Brittany looked like I'd accused her of stealing office supplies.

I held their gaze for a moment longer, then let my eyes drift towards the scenic vineyard in the distance.

Okay, Ava, reel it in. Don't terrify them on day one. Much.

But they weren't ready to de-escalate.

Brittany, recovering her voice, sputtered, "Well! My brother is way more talented than Leo! Everyone knows he was robbed for that *Starfleet* role! He's a real actor!"

"Oh," I said.

She took a deep breath, puffing up. "And my championship was for the Golden State Spirit Classic! It's, like, super prestigious! Way better than being... whatever you are. Or your brother, the pretty-boy space cadet who can't act his way out of a paper bag!"

Golden State Spirit Classic. I vaguely recalled my ten-year-old niece mentioning it. She'd won her age group a few years running before moving on to more serious gymnastics.

"That's nice," I said.

Brittany looked like she was about to explode. "And what do *you* do, huh? Besides stand around and criticize people who are actually, like, achieving things?"

Chad put a restraining hand on her shoulder, though he looked equally furious. "Britt, calm down."

"No, I want to know!" she insisted, shaking off his hand. "What gives you the right to judge us? What have *you* ever won?"

The cameras were, of course, eating this up. I could practically hear the producers salivating in the control van.

I considered my answer. I could mention the pro-bono work. Or the Wall Street grind.

Or...

"Well," I said, tilting my head slightly. "I was invited to the National Policy Debate Tournament of Champions once. Had to decline, though."

Brittany scoffed. "Debate? Seriously? That's not even a sport!"

"It clashed with the Yale Invitational Mock Trial tournament," I continued, as if she hadn't spoken.

Chad, ever the opportunist, jumped in. "Mock trial? So, you're like, a pretend lawyer? How'd you do? Did you even place?" He was trying to regain control, to paint me as an arrogant amateur.

I gave him a small, polite smile.

"Oh, I won. Best Attorney. They also asked me to stick around and judge the undergraduate brackets the following year."

I paused, then added, looking directly at Chad, "It's funny, that runner-up spot you're so proud of for *Starfleet Academy*? Being second best out of, what, a dozen serious contenders? That's about as impressive as the number of 'championships' Brittany's competition probably hosts in a single season."

Silence.

Even the buzzing drones seemed to hold their breath.

Chad's jaw was working. Brittany looked like she'd swallowed a bug.

A production assistant scurried over, headset askew. "Uh, Ms. Hayes? Mr. Hayes is back with your water."

Leo reappeared, blissfully unaware, holding a bottle of water. "Here you go, Ava."

"Thanks, Leo." I took a sip.

Later, I saw one of the junior PAs frantically typing into her phone. A few minutes after that, hushed whispers started among the crew.

Someone had apparently googled "Ava Hayes Yale Mock Trial."

The online forums, I later learned, were already buzzing. My name, previously unknown, was suddenly linked to a rather legendary run at the Yale Invitational a few years back. Under a slightly different version of my name, a common practice for collegiate competitions to avoid pre-tournament bias.

The narrative was just starting to get a little more interesting.