"Do you know the defining characteristic of the last eight or nine Student Council Presidents at Midtown High?"
"What?"
"They were all 'Specialty Students'—athletes."
"..."
Gwen looked at Locke and explained, "The presidents from the past decade or so... well, in terms of actual knowledge, they were average at best. The school has been desperate to change that. Think about it: Midtown High spends a massive amount on scholarships every year to headhunt academic geniuses, yet the face of the student body is always someone who uses muscle to beat brains. Do you think the board is happy about that?"
Locke shook his head. "Not a good look."
It was the same old story. People get fooled by the "happy education" narrative of the public system, but you only have to look at the structure of Washington D.C. to see the truth. Every single person in power holds a Master's or a PhD. Some are so competitive they hold multiple doctorates.
Look at Tony Stark. He's a billionaire, yet he still holds three PhDs. Even Pepper Potts—don't think she's just a pretty face. Her academic credentials are top-tier. You don't become the executive assistant to the Chairman of Stark Industries with just a nice smile and no brain.
In this country, "happy education" is pushed to make the masses easier to govern. The "involution" and sheer intensity of elite education are far beyond what most people realize.
While other schools might not care who the Student Council President is, Midtown High prides itself on elite education. They are constantly trying to break into the top two high schools in the nation. Publicly, they preach a balance of well-roundedness, but fundamentally, they want the school's leadership to represent academic excellence.
"But what does that have to do with a math competition?" Locke asked.
Gwen smiled. "You can view the Spring Academic Decathlon as a 'Board-sponsored' platform for a specific candidate. It's designed to let them secure a massive wave of votes through academic victory."
Locke raised an eyebrow.
Well, well. He thought high school elections were clean, but it turns out the referees are personally blowing the whistle for their favorites.
"Wait, if that's the case, why haven't the brainy candidates won lately?"
"Well..." Gwen looked at him with a twinkle in her eye. "Because the previous candidates weren't you."
Locke: "..."
The reason was simple. Midtown High is elite, but the "Super Scholars" are still a minority. Most students are still average. While there are plenty of kids who value grades, they are outnumbered by the "Looks Matter" party and the "Jock" party. That's why the brainy kids kept losing.
But as Gwen explained, Locke was different. He didn't just have the academic base; he had the "Looks Party" locked down. If he went to the pool and showed off his physique, he'd probably snatch the "Jock" votes too.
Locke was intrigued. Not because of the title, but because of the competition.
"Even if it's a 'sponsored' platform," Locke mused, "the candidate can't be the only one going to the competition, right?"
Gwen nodded. "Exactly. The team is almost always composed of the candidate's supporters. There was a major incident a few years back where a candidate tried to use their brain to beat muscle. They were favored to win the English Decathlon against a public school in Queens, but they lost because one of their teammates was a 'pretty boy' scholar who choked. Losing to any school is fine, but losing to Queens? The 'urban-rural fringe'? Please."
She continued, "After that, the school decided that the Spring High School League representatives would be nominated by the candidate. Unless, of course, you're willing to just be a team member?"
"No!" Locke shook his head immediately. He was a "Roman," not a beast of burden.
Locke wanted the task rewards from the Spring Decathlon. But if he, the "shining flower," was expected to be mere "greenery" for someone else? He'd pass.
"Student Council President?" Locke thought for a moment and looked at Gwen. "You really think I can win?"
Gwen smiled warmly. "I'll help you."
Locke navigated the traffic and finally pulled into the school parking lot. He chuckled. "Give me a day to think about it."
"Of course," Gwen nodded. "But only a day. By tomorrow, the faster candidates will probably already have their posters up."
Locke: "..."
...
In the parking lot, friends they hadn't seen in a while were already waiting. Mary Jane, Jessica Campbell, Betty, Flash, Cindy, Kahn, and Kim.
The moment Locke and Gwen stepped out, the group surrounded them.
Kim pulled Gwen aside and winked at Locke. "Not bad, Locke. I always thought you were just a 'paper tiger' playing the tough guy, but I guess I was wrong."
Locke asked with a polite smile, "Kim, do you have any plans to visit Paris this year?"
Kim blinked. "Paris? No. Why? Are you inviting me?"
Locke looked incredibly sincere. "You really should go. I heard this summer is a 'fantastic' time to visit Paris."
If Kim's father, Bryan Mills, wasn't a problem, Locke wouldn't just invite her—he'd charter a private jet to send her there. A girl with such a "sweet" tongue was always a delight.
Kim looked at Locke's smile and whispered to Gwen, "Gwen, is your boyfriend hitting on me?"
Locke: "..."
Gwen: "..."
'Hitting on you?' Locke thought. 'More like I'm worried my cover will blow. Given your dad's personality, if he finds out I have any connection to 'Peerless,' he won't stop until he digs everything up.'
Inside the classroom, the atmosphere was typical for the first day back. Students were chatting away, showing off where they went for Christmas or what adventures they had.
Locke sat in his seat, contemplating the topic Gwen had raised in the car.
Student Council President.
Academic Decathlon.
The two seemed inextricably linked. To get into the competition, he had to be a candidate; otherwise, he was just a background character. He refused to be a background character.
But he hated losing. He didn't want to break his "undefeated" streak. He didn't actually care about the position of President itself—while it was a bonus for college, his grades were already good enough to pry open the doors of any university in the world. People who think universities care about "social skills" usually just don't have the grades to impress them otherwise.
Take his old neighbor back in Texas, Sheldon Cooper. No teacher liked that kid, but his grades were so legendary that the principal treated him like a saint. Because of Sheldon, the school received massive state funding and his scores single-handedly raised the school's average.
Locke leaned over to Gwen, who was already in study mode. "Let's do it. The election."
Gwen took off her headphones and blinked at him. "What?"
"Student Council President. I'm in."
"You've decided?"
"Yeah." Locke nodded. To gain something, one must pay a price. A bit of risk was fine as long as it was manageable. If he could lead Midtown High to a "Grand Slam" victory in the Spring High School League Knowledge Competition, the presidency was practically guaranteed.
As for what happens after he becomes President? That wasn't hard. A few extra meetings, banging on a few tables—it wouldn't take up much of his time. If it got too annoying, he could always resign and hand it over to someone else. He just didn't want to work for anyone else.
Gwen saw his resolve and nodded. "Okay. Let's plan during lunch. Since we're doing this, we need to catch up on the timeline."
She had a feeling Locke wasn't doing this for the title, but if he wanted to participate, she was all for it. It would be great experience for her too—acting as a campaign manager and leading a peer to victory.
"Gwen."
"Jessica?"
Jessica Campbell, sitting behind Locke, had just returned from the hallway. She turned to Gwen. "Do we have new students again this semester?"
Gwen nodded. "Yeah, six."
Locke knew about the transfer students—Gwen had mentioned it in the car—but he didn't know the specifics since they had gotten distracted by the election talk.
Jessica paused. "Six?"
"Three in our class," Gwen confirmed, "and three in the other class."
Jessica looked skeptical. "But I just passed the office and only saw one. Where are the other two?"
"One is from Texas, like Locke," Gwen explained. "And the other two are siblings. I think they transferred here from Sokovia."
Locke looked up sharply.
***
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