“Exactly. You see patterns. I see people. We’re a team.”

Instead of reporting him, she grabbed the trophy, cleaned it, and placed it back in the case before morning assembly. Then she sent Rahul a text: “Trophy’s back. No questions. But you’re joining my quiz team tomorrow. Winners aren’t born, they’re trained. – HQ”

“Because his left foot points toward the exit every time someone mentions security cameras. He’s planning an escape route. In chess, that’s called ‘prophylaxis’—preventing your opponent’s move before they make it.”

She slammed a notebook on the lab table. “It’s a lockdown. Someone in this school took it. Chris, you’re with me.”

He smirked. “You once said I was ‘useless in real life.’”

“That’s what teammates are for.”

Maya—known to everyone as “HQ” because she ran the student council like a five-star general—had a problem. The annual inter-school quiz trophy had been stolen from the display case. Without it, the farewell assembly would be a disaster. And HQ did not do disasters.