Page 6 of Strictly Against Policy

There were several times during our freshman and sophomore years when I had considered being friends with her. She was intelligent—and I knew that from the moment she had raised her hand, as rapidly as I had done, to answer questions during Biology. It was a morning class . . . No one was that enthusiastic about Biology so early in the day. And because like drew to like, I wanted to be her friend. If not, then at least her study buddy.

But Lina was a lone wolf who was fine with her pack of one.

I offered to help her study many times throughout our first two years of high school together. Often it was whenever she would get 90% on pop quizzes or exams, which was surprising. It was highly unusual for her to score so low. With me being the victor when she underperformed, I always offered to help her study, or I invited her to group studies with me and our classmates.

It was meant to be a truce. It wasn’t just for show, or an opportunity for me to be pompous or act like I was the better than her. It was genuine and sincere, and so was her response.

Her reaction was always the same: her expression was rigid and icy, with a frown on her face, and a raspy-but-definitive ‘No.’ Such a stark difference to her attitude most of the time. When she scored highest or walked out of our classrooms with the best grades, her chin was tipped high, and she was all cocky smiles and bright eyes.

I took the hint that she wasn’t looking for a friend or a study buddy after my tenth attempt—she had just gotten a solid B+ for an exam in AP Chemistry—and I settled for being her rival instead. Although I couldn’t deny the deep hurt I felt since I saw camaraderie in her.

We always wanted to be the best student, and we both shared the same interest in pursuing a career in medicine. We even volunteered at the same hospital and crossed paths consistently for years over weekends and summer breaks. It would’ve been nice to be her friend. To exchange tips on how to get into various medical volunteer programs and discuss which colleges to attend.

But that kind of relationship was a firm nope from her.

We were in a competition all four years of sharing advanced classes together—from racing to answer questions in AP European History to getting the best scores on all our exams in AP Calculus.

We were academic rivals to the very end.

‘You should still be proud of yourself, Jonathan,’ she had said softly, pausing in front of me as confusion raced through my mind. There was such a contrast between her cocky, triumphant expression and her unusually gentle words that, for a moment, I thought I was class valedictorian. Then, she continued running her mouth. ‘Second place is still quite an impressive feat. Congratulations.’

I didn’t know if her words were meant to be encouraging or condescending, but it only solidified how much I disliked her. I never liked the way she wore her smug smirk, flaunting her perfection around any chance she could: her answers, her scores, her grades.

Or her perfectly robotic composure—intact even when Daniel Song called her a ‘frigid bitch.’ This was in AP Calculus, after she had flat out refused to help explain antiderivatives to him when he asked. Kindly, too. She was the only one who aced the pop quiz that day.

I tried to be amiable throughout high school with her, but that moment with Daniel just proved the one thing I never liked about her: she liked to win.

And so, did I.

Just in different ways. She liked to win and rub it in other people’s faces. I liked to win and still be kind about it.

I remembered tugging my mouth to mirror hers, angling my head to the side as I continued to stand in front of her. ‘Thanks,’ I retorted. Fiery agitation burned my chest as I puffed it out with a deep breath. ‘Congrats to you, too, by the way. It must feel nice to know having good grades is the peak of your personality.’

Nothing anyone could say or do ever disturbed that frigid nature of hers.

She didn’t blink once as her mouth pulled tighter and she shrugged. ‘What can I say? I love being the best. It’s as simple as that.’

I opened my mouth to explain to Shoua and Anthony why I didn’t like Lina. “It’s not that she’s a bad worker. She’s a perfectly capable pharmacist. What bothers me is that she’s always so damn . . . whatever she is. Robotic. Rude. Dry.” But my elaboration fell flat.

Neither my cousin nor childhood friend seemed to empathize with me. Instead, they continued to arch their eyebrows higher.

“If your previous pharmacy manager hired her, then she couldn’t possibly be that horrible,” said Anthony.

I crossed my arms across my chest as the muscles of my neck tensed. Heat crackled across my entire body. “Does it ever occur to you that there are some people who are better as interviewees than they are as actual employees?” I asked pointedly. “That’s Lina Lee.”

Shoua tipped her head as she hummed. “But you’ve been saying the same thing about her for ten years, ever since high school. It’s also the same thing you’ve said the last twenty times you’ve brought her up since you started working with her a week ago.” My cousin showed me no sympathy with the shake of her head. “If anything, it sounds like you’re on a power trip.”

I gawked. “I am not on a power trip!”

Anthony was grinning wide and fascinated. “Look, you know how I finally decided to get my wisdom tooth taken out? Well, Shoua and I went in to grab pain meds and antibiotics the other day. We ended up talking to her since you were busy. I’ll be honest, she’s not as bad as you’re saying. And she’s nice!” he insisted.

“She’s not nice,” I muttered through gritted teeth.

Anthony shrugged, sipping on his can of coke. “She’s not fake.”

I parted my lips, ready to argue, but Shoua spoke up first. She placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Jonathan, we get it. You don’t like her. But I think the way you’re treating her at work is prejudicial and biased.”