I clench the marker in my hand so tight it hurts.

“Pedro, did you do that on purpose?” Pimentel asks, peering over my shoulder.

I whirl around to look at her.

“He did!”

“Sorry,” he says, a hand on his heart, and the barely contained smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Seriously, Larissa. I didn’t mean to.”

“Liar!” I protest.

“Lari, he already apologized,” Pimentel says. “Now go on you two. You have one minute left.”

Trembling with anger, I rush to finish the part of the equation Pedro erased. I can’t believe this. He’s barely back and he’s already a nightmare.

“Now you know what it feels like when someone destroys your work, even if it was, like you said, an accident,” he whispers to me.

And before I know it, I’m running a hand over his equation and erasing part of it.

The cheering quiets. It’s like time stands still.

Pedro crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the whiteboard, like this was the reaction he was trying to get out of me all along. His eyes accuse: You’re vengeful. QED. Like it’s proof I tripped him Friday night.

Pimentel hurries over to us. “That’s enough. Pedro, you already got your two minutes under the spotlight. I’m taking you to the principal.”

“What about her?” he nods toward me, indignant. “She just erased my equation out of spite because she knew she was going to lose to me.”

I laugh. “I was going to win!”

“Guys, this was not a competition,” Pimentel says, already looking exhausted. “This was just a challenge for anyone interested in getting extra credit.” She scratches her head with a pencil as she examines our work. “Look, you would have solved it if you answered with this part of Lari’s solution and that part of Pedro’s. If only you helped each other, instead of all this fighting, the equation would have been solved.”

Helped each other?

“I didn’t know we could ask for help,” Diego whimpers.

“I’ll die before I ask for Pedro Molina’s help,” I say under my breath.

“What was that, Lari?” Pimentel asks.

“Nothing.”

Pedro glares. He heard me alright. I shoot daggers at him with my eyes.

The bell rings, and Pimentel goes to inspect my other classmates’ equations. They were also unable to finish it.

Diego drops down to his knees. “Please, Professora, I need this extra point! My parents are going to kill me if I can’t get my grade up!” Pimentel’s class sure has a way of leaving people desperate.

She sighs at his begging. “Alright, listen up. I have an idea. Class is over, but if you guys at the whiteboard could team up for a minute to put this solution together, I’ll offer you all the extra credit,” she says.