The classroom buzzed with low murmurs as students settled into their seats. The walls were lined with posters of literary greats—Shakespeare, Hemingway, Morrison—all staring down at the AP English students with the weight of a thousand pages of brilliance. Alex Dunphy sat at her usual spot: front row, third seat from the left. It was the optimal position for engagement and note-taking, not that she needed to prove herself.
The teacher, Mrs. Holloway, adjusted her glasses and clasped her hands together. "Alright, let's start with a debate. The Great Gatsby—classic American literature or an overrated melodrama? Who wants to begin?"
Alex straightened her back, raising her hand immediately. "Fitzgerald's novel is a masterful critique of the American Dream. Gatsby embodies the illusion of self-made success, chasing a dream that was never truly within his grasp. His downfall proves that wealth cannot buy happiness, and that the past is an illusion we can never return to." She finished with confidence, her voice sharp and precise.
There was a pause—just long enough for Alex to bask in her intellectual dominance. Then, a voice from the back of the room, smooth and amused, cut through the silence.
"That's one way to look at it," he said lazily. "Or maybe Gatsby was just a fool in love who didn't know when to quit. Nothing profound about it—just human nature. People chase things they can't have all the time. Doesn't mean it's tragic. Just... predictable."
Alex turned in her seat, already preparing her counter-argument, but the moment she saw the speaker, she hesitated.
Jasper Allister.
She didn't know him, not really, but she'd heard of him. He had a reputation—effortlessly smart, always just there in the background, barely trying yet somehow excelling. His black hair was unruly, pushed back just enough to look intentional, and his piercing blue eyes held a lazy sort of amusement, as if he enjoyed watching people react to him. He was slouched in his chair, fingers idly twirling a pen between them.
And then he smirked.
"You're an interesting one, Dunphy," he continued, tilting his head slightly. "A beautiful overachiever with all the right answers. But do you ever wonder if you actually believe them, or if you just say them because you're supposed to?"
The room went silent.
Alex felt heat rise to her cheeks, a mix of irritation and something she refused to name. She had spent years being the smartest person in the room. No one questioned her. No one challenged her. And certainly, no one had ever called her beautiful in the middle of a debate.
She squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. "And you? You just dismiss everything as meaningless because it's easier than actually forming an argument. If Gatsby's story is so predictable, then why has it endured for decades? Why do we still analyze it today?"
Jasper's smirk deepened, like he had been waiting for this. "Because people love a tragedy. It makes them feel better about their own lives. We look at Gatsby and think, 'Wow, at least I'm not that pathetic.'"
A few students chuckled.
Mrs. Holloway, who had been watching them with an amused expression, finally stepped in. "Well, it seems we have our first great debate of the year. Dunphy, Allister—excellent points, both of you. But let's save the intellectual dueling for tomorrow's discussion."
The class moved on, but Alex barely paid attention. Her mind was stuck on one thing.
Jasper Allister.
This was going to be an annoying year.
The bell had rung, signaling the end of AP English, but Alex Dunphy wasn't done. The words still rang in her ears—A beautiful overachiever. The sheer audacity. No one had ever called her that before, let alone in a setting where she was trying to be taken seriously.
She stormed out of the building, scanning the school courtyard with sharp eyes. It didn't take long to find him. Jasper Allister sat under the shade of an old oak tree, legs stretched out lazily, a notebook balanced on his knee. He was writing, his pen gliding effortlessly over the page, an air of complete ease surrounding him.
Alex marched up, casting a shadow over him.
"Don't ever call me beautiful again," she snapped.
Jasper didn't look up right away. Instead, he finished whatever sentence he was writing, tapped his pen thoughtfully against the paper, and then—finally—glanced up at her with that same insufferable smirk.
"Noted," he said. "Would you prefer 'stunning' or 'breathtaking' instead?"
Alex clenched her jaw. "How about you just don't comment on my appearance at all?"
Jasper sighed dramatically, closing his notebook. "Shame. It's not every day I meet someone who can go toe-to-toe with me in a debate and look good doing it."
Alex groaned, resisting the urge to throw his notebook into the nearest trash can. "Are you always this obnoxious?"
"Only when I'm having fun," he replied smoothly, stretching his arms behind his head. "And you, Dunphy, are very fun to mess with."
She folded her arms. "I don't see what's so entertaining about challenging me in class. What, you just enjoy disagreeing for the sake of it?"
Jasper raised an eyebrow. "No. I just don't like when people think they have everything figured out. Makes life boring."
Alex stared at him, frustrated yet intrigued. "So you disagree just to keep things interesting?"
"Something like that." He tapped his notebook. "Besides, you need it. You're too used to being the smartest person in the room."
Alex scoffed. "And you think you can change that?"
Jasper grinned, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, I know I can."
Alex huffed, turning on her heel. "You're impossible."
As she walked away, Jasper called after her, "You're welcome, by the way!"
"For what?" she shot back over her shoulder.
"For making your senior year more interesting!"
Alex didn't dignify that with a response. But as she stormed off, she hated the fact that—deep down—she knew he was probably right.
This was definitely going to be an annoying year.