Page 23 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

Brody’s chuckle is an icy thing, one of the first times I’m reminded that Brody comes from wealth and speaks like someone who can afford to not give a fuck. “I think you’re tantrumming like a spoiled toddler. Nothing more tiresome than that.”

Arjun’s face darkens with anger. He tilts his head toward me. “We have a weaker Team A because your boy prioritized chicks over clicks.”

“You spend an entire day working that out?”

Arjun, as usual, doesn’t deign to reply when I’m the one insulting him. Lucas packs up his laptop and looks pointedly away from Arjun when he tells us, “We should go practice.”

“You should,” Arjun says.

Lucas turns toward Arjun; even though Lucas is still sitting, he actually looks down at Arjun, because the height difference is that extreme. “You should work on not insulting your teammates. Carrying on about me while Dmitry and Xinzhe are standing right there? It’s not a good look.”

Arjun puffs out his chest but has the grace to look a little discomfited. Lucas continues, lowering his voice. “I chose Lorelai because she’s good. But Dmitry and Xinzhe are also adept coders. Focus on your teammates, not mine.”

“Don’t tell me how to run my own team.” Arjun’s eyes are narrowed, his face flushed. Perhaps because Brody and I are the talkers, Lucas’s insult quite obviously cuts deeper.

Lucas doesn’t avert his gaze; his quiet voice is authoritative. “Then know better. Do better.”

Arjun doesn’t reply, but it doesn’t seem to matter. When Arjun finally turns toward his teammates, Dmitry’s clearly decided to take out whatever anger he’s feeling . . . on us. The former Russian champion looks right at me, his voice loud enough to carry, as he announces, “Don’t worry, Arjun. They’ve got a community college transfer, a girl, and whatever the fuck Brody is. It won’t even be close.”

Dmitry says the words community college as though the very concept is an insult, and I’m about to retort when I catch sight of Lucas’s face, which has drawn tight. Lucas never has a problem defending me, the girl, but he’s been consistently sensitive (overly so, really) about the fact that he’s from a working-class background, that he spent almost three years at Pasadena City College before transferring.

Brody grins broadly. He comes forward and drapes an arm around me and stretches another meaty forearm across Lucas’s skinny shoulder. “Yeah, my guy’s from community college—all that means is he had none of your fancy tutors and he’s still kicking your ass. And Lorelai—” Brody looks over at me. “Shit, you’re a girl? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I smile, because trust Brody to lighten the mood. “I guess we’re fucked.”

It’s Lucas who gets us back on track. “Time to practice.”

I should leave it, I really should, but I just can’t help myself. Even though we’ve been consistently losing, even though it’s 90 percent bravado, I tilt my chin up. “I promise to do everything in my power to make sure it’s not close.”

Because I haven’t been able to find a paying job outside of the Pizza Palace (and the shifts have sucked during what’s become a slow couple of months), because Brody’s attitude toward attending class is casual (“I mean, I go when there are tests?”), and because Lucas has clustered all of his classes to optimize practice time, we start meeting nearly every day, even if it’s just for a quick bite between classes. We work steadily through practice problems and learn one another’s relative strengths. Lucas and I take turns assigning homework designed to shore up weaknesses. Lucas focuses on implementation and efficiency. I expand my theoretical foundation and read articles on Stack Overflow before falling asleep each night.

And Brody—well, he’s good about making jokes when we’re stuck (“Remember, nerds, ‘the enemy gate is down’”), does any homework we assign him, and reminds us that breaks are, apparently, necessary.

“This beautiful face comes with a price, guys. Dark circles ruin my entire vibe.”

“You went out last night,” Lucas reminds him.

“Stranding us,” I second.

After Brody canceled, Lucas texted to see if I wanted to practice without Brody, but I used my family as a shield. While he and Brody had met a couple of times when I’d been working, and though Brody and I had also studied together without Lucas (mostly because Brody had “forgotten” a month-long essay assignment and needed help), I’d been very careful to never be alone with Lucas.

“Guys?” Brody’s wearing his petulant look. “Last night was about getting laid. Tonight is about team bonding, which is a thing.”

Lucas is silent for a moment. During competitions, his mind works at warp speed, but when he speaks? It’s best measured via geologic time scale. “What if you’d ended up on Arjun’s team? Would you have wanted to bond with him?”

“Oh, I would’ve one hundred percent dipped. No way I would have lasted on Arjun’s team. I’m only here as long as it’s fun.”

I want to laugh, but his words also spark the tiniest bit of anxiety: most people wouldn’t quit after making it onto the second-best team at Caltech, but Brody’s always been a wild card, and trying to replace Brody this close to regionals would be disastrous. “Don’t you need awards to apply to law school?”

“I need to level up my vocab because the verbal section is gonna be the fucking death of me, but my GPA’s stellar, I won the National Science Award twice, got the Zeigler Award last year, and I spend winter breaks volunteering with my family’s foundation. I think I’m good.”

Lucas’s face gives nothing away, but Brody notices my shock and grabs his crotch in response. “I’m way more than a big dick, Lorelai. Hop on if you wanna ride sometime.”

And there it is. I roll my eyes dramatically, because we both know he’s not serious. Brody gets enough girls without needing to hit on me. Also, I’ve been around him enough to know he’s smoother . . . when he’s actually trying.

“No one here is interested in your penis,” I say. “I’m here for the prize money.”

“Same.” Lucas talks like he codes: Less is more. Simple is elegant.