Sharon getting smarter
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 8
by
copier
· original author:
an188
The rest of the school day unfolded in lazy, golden slowness—the kind of Thursday where teachers seemed to move through molasses and the clock refused to cooperate. Sharon and her squad drifted from class to class like a pack of elegant predators, claiming the back rows, the prime hallway corners, the unspoken VIP zones of Havenridge High.
In English Lit, they spent most of the period dissecting boys instead of Shakespeare. Tammy pointed out a junior with acne scars and whispered, “Like, total zero. He looks like he lost a fight with a pizza.” Sharon smirked, sipping chocolate milk from a carton she’d smuggled in. “Pass. I only date upgradable models.” Lily added her signature dry cut, “He’d need a full system restore.” Megan giggled behind her hand, eyes flicking to Sharon every few seconds like a compass needle.
In the hallway between periods they cornered a nervous sophomore girl carrying too many books. Sharon stepped in front, blocking her path with casual menace. “Cute backpack. Did you raid the lost-and-found from 2009?” The girl stammered something and scurried away. The four of them burst into laughter, high-fiving like they’d won a championship.
All the while, Sharon kept drinking. A swig of chocolate milk here, a long pull from a plain milk bottle there. She told herself it was just a craving—probably because of the stupid experiment—but every swallow felt better than the last. Rich, creamy, almost euphoric. She didn’t notice how her jeans, already snug that morning, now sat comfortably against slightly rounder glutes and firmer thighs. She didn’t see how her biceps, when she absentmindedly flexed while laughing, carried a subtle new curve of definition. Her skin glowed a shade brighter; her waist nipped in a fraction tighter. The changes crept in sip by sip—toned arms, sensual curve to her hips, a quiet sharpening of cheekbones—yet so gradual that even her mirror-obsessed self chalked it up to good lighting or “just feeling cute today.”
But something else was happening faster.
In AP History, the teacher droned about the causes of the French Revolution. Normally Sharon tuned out, doodling crowns in her notebook margins while Lily quietly fed the group answers. Today the lecture landed differently. Dates, names, economic theories clicked into place like puzzle pieces she hadn’t even known were scattered. When the teacher asked, “What role did the Estates-General play in escalating tensions?” Sharon’s hand rose before she could stop it.
“The Third Estate demanded fair representation, got ignored, formed the National Assembly instead. That’s when the real fracture happened.” She said it calmly, almost bored.
The room went quiet. Lily’s eyebrows shot up. Tammy mouthed what the fuck? Megan blinked rapidly.
The teacher nodded, surprised. “Correct. Very concise, Sharon.”
Lily leaned over, whispering, “Since when do you know that?”
Sharon shrugged, playing it cool. “I pay attention sometimes.”
But it kept happening.
In math, a brutal derivative problem that usually made her eyes glaze appeared on the board. She stared for three seconds, then saw the chain rule unfold in her head like a movie. She whispered the steps to Tammy, who copied them blindly. When the teacher called on someone else and they got it wrong, Sharon murmured the correct answer under her breath—again ahead of Lily, who usually reigned supreme in academics.
By third period, Lily was side-eyeing her hard. “Okay, spill. Did you cheat off someone’s Quizlet last night?”
Sharon laughed it off. “Nah. Just awake today.”
The real shock came after lunch—three surprise quizzes handed out in quick succession: chemistry, literature analysis, and geometry. Sharon finished each one in record time, pen moving with unfamiliar confidence. The questions that used to blur now resolved themselves effortlessly. Her brain felt like it had been upgraded—sharper edges, faster retrieval, connections firing where before there had only been fog.
When the teacher collected the papers, Sharon leaned back, arms crossed, a small, secret smile playing on her lips.
An hour later the scores were posted on the class portal. Sharon: 98, 100, 97. Lily: 89, 92, 94. The rest of the class trailed far behind.
The group chat exploded.
Tammy: bro WHAT
Lily: excuse me??
Megan: 😳😳😳
Tammy: since when are u the smart one shar??
Sharon pulled out her phone in the hallway, snapped a quick mirror selfie—chin tilted up, eyes half-lidded in triumph, one hand flipping her hair while the other held up three fingers like a trophy.
Caption:
Three surprise exams. Three perfect scores. Finished first every time. Sorry your brains can’t keep up with mine today 💅 Must be hard watching the queen add “genius” to the resume. Stay pressed. #AcademicSlay #SmarterThanYou #NaturalTalent #EatMyDustLosers #QueenOfEverything
She hit post. Notifications poured in—likes, fire emojis, jealous comments. Her ego drank it up like the milk she couldn’t stop sipping.
Back at their table in the cafeteria, the girls surrounded her like detectives.
Tammy slammed her tray down. “Okay, seriously. What the hell? You’ve been chugging dairy like it’s your job and now you’re Einstein? Did you snort Adderall or something?”
Lily crossed her arms, studying Sharon with narrowed eyes. “You’ve never cared about grades. Ever. And suddenly you’re outscoring me? Spill the tea.”
Megan just stared, wide-eyed and adoring. “You’re… different. Like, really different.”
Sharon took a long, deliberate sip of chocolate milk, letting the silence stretch for maximum drama. Inside, a tiny alarm bell rang. The pill. The nerd. The whisper that hers was the real one. The impossible clarity in her head. The body that felt stronger, sexier, more alive with every swallow.
But she wasn’t ready to share that. Not yet.
She set the bottle down with a soft clink and flashed her most smug, dismissive smile. “Relax, peasants. Sometimes you just wake up on god mode. Pure luck. Don’t overthink it.” She winked. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you.”
The girls grumbled but let it drop—for now. They returned to their usual routine: picking apart a table of band geeks, mocking a girl’s new bangs, rating passing boys on a brutal 1–10 scale.
Sharon leaned back in her chair, legs crossed, another carton of milk already open. She felt the familiar warmth spreading again—subtle, insidious, delicious. Her mind raced ahead, already solving tomorrow’s problems before they were assigned. Her body hummed with quiet power.
She smiled to herself, small and private.
Whatever was happening… she liked it.
They sat there at their usual table, trays half-empty, phones glowing, the cafeteria noise a distant hum around them.
Option 1: Sharon eats a large portion of dairy products and gets a boost in her transformation, just before gym class.
Option 2: Sharon eats a little dairy products and the slow transformation continues.
In English Lit, they spent most of the period dissecting boys instead of Shakespeare. Tammy pointed out a junior with acne scars and whispered, “Like, total zero. He looks like he lost a fight with a pizza.” Sharon smirked, sipping chocolate milk from a carton she’d smuggled in. “Pass. I only date upgradable models.” Lily added her signature dry cut, “He’d need a full system restore.” Megan giggled behind her hand, eyes flicking to Sharon every few seconds like a compass needle.
In the hallway between periods they cornered a nervous sophomore girl carrying too many books. Sharon stepped in front, blocking her path with casual menace. “Cute backpack. Did you raid the lost-and-found from 2009?” The girl stammered something and scurried away. The four of them burst into laughter, high-fiving like they’d won a championship.
All the while, Sharon kept drinking. A swig of chocolate milk here, a long pull from a plain milk bottle there. She told herself it was just a craving—probably because of the stupid experiment—but every swallow felt better than the last. Rich, creamy, almost euphoric. She didn’t notice how her jeans, already snug that morning, now sat comfortably against slightly rounder glutes and firmer thighs. She didn’t see how her biceps, when she absentmindedly flexed while laughing, carried a subtle new curve of definition. Her skin glowed a shade brighter; her waist nipped in a fraction tighter. The changes crept in sip by sip—toned arms, sensual curve to her hips, a quiet sharpening of cheekbones—yet so gradual that even her mirror-obsessed self chalked it up to good lighting or “just feeling cute today.”
But something else was happening faster.
In AP History, the teacher droned about the causes of the French Revolution. Normally Sharon tuned out, doodling crowns in her notebook margins while Lily quietly fed the group answers. Today the lecture landed differently. Dates, names, economic theories clicked into place like puzzle pieces she hadn’t even known were scattered. When the teacher asked, “What role did the Estates-General play in escalating tensions?” Sharon’s hand rose before she could stop it.
“The Third Estate demanded fair representation, got ignored, formed the National Assembly instead. That’s when the real fracture happened.” She said it calmly, almost bored.
The room went quiet. Lily’s eyebrows shot up. Tammy mouthed what the fuck? Megan blinked rapidly.
The teacher nodded, surprised. “Correct. Very concise, Sharon.”
Lily leaned over, whispering, “Since when do you know that?”
Sharon shrugged, playing it cool. “I pay attention sometimes.”
But it kept happening.
In math, a brutal derivative problem that usually made her eyes glaze appeared on the board. She stared for three seconds, then saw the chain rule unfold in her head like a movie. She whispered the steps to Tammy, who copied them blindly. When the teacher called on someone else and they got it wrong, Sharon murmured the correct answer under her breath—again ahead of Lily, who usually reigned supreme in academics.
By third period, Lily was side-eyeing her hard. “Okay, spill. Did you cheat off someone’s Quizlet last night?”
Sharon laughed it off. “Nah. Just awake today.”
The real shock came after lunch—three surprise quizzes handed out in quick succession: chemistry, literature analysis, and geometry. Sharon finished each one in record time, pen moving with unfamiliar confidence. The questions that used to blur now resolved themselves effortlessly. Her brain felt like it had been upgraded—sharper edges, faster retrieval, connections firing where before there had only been fog.
When the teacher collected the papers, Sharon leaned back, arms crossed, a small, secret smile playing on her lips.
An hour later the scores were posted on the class portal. Sharon: 98, 100, 97. Lily: 89, 92, 94. The rest of the class trailed far behind.
The group chat exploded.
Tammy: bro WHAT
Lily: excuse me??
Megan: 😳😳😳
Tammy: since when are u the smart one shar??
Sharon pulled out her phone in the hallway, snapped a quick mirror selfie—chin tilted up, eyes half-lidded in triumph, one hand flipping her hair while the other held up three fingers like a trophy.
Caption:
Three surprise exams. Three perfect scores. Finished first every time. Sorry your brains can’t keep up with mine today 💅 Must be hard watching the queen add “genius” to the resume. Stay pressed. #AcademicSlay #SmarterThanYou #NaturalTalent #EatMyDustLosers #QueenOfEverything
She hit post. Notifications poured in—likes, fire emojis, jealous comments. Her ego drank it up like the milk she couldn’t stop sipping.
Back at their table in the cafeteria, the girls surrounded her like detectives.
Tammy slammed her tray down. “Okay, seriously. What the hell? You’ve been chugging dairy like it’s your job and now you’re Einstein? Did you snort Adderall or something?”
Lily crossed her arms, studying Sharon with narrowed eyes. “You’ve never cared about grades. Ever. And suddenly you’re outscoring me? Spill the tea.”
Megan just stared, wide-eyed and adoring. “You’re… different. Like, really different.”
Sharon took a long, deliberate sip of chocolate milk, letting the silence stretch for maximum drama. Inside, a tiny alarm bell rang. The pill. The nerd. The whisper that hers was the real one. The impossible clarity in her head. The body that felt stronger, sexier, more alive with every swallow.
But she wasn’t ready to share that. Not yet.
She set the bottle down with a soft clink and flashed her most smug, dismissive smile. “Relax, peasants. Sometimes you just wake up on god mode. Pure luck. Don’t overthink it.” She winked. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you.”
The girls grumbled but let it drop—for now. They returned to their usual routine: picking apart a table of band geeks, mocking a girl’s new bangs, rating passing boys on a brutal 1–10 scale.
Sharon leaned back in her chair, legs crossed, another carton of milk already open. She felt the familiar warmth spreading again—subtle, insidious, delicious. Her mind raced ahead, already solving tomorrow’s problems before they were assigned. Her body hummed with quiet power.
She smiled to herself, small and private.
Whatever was happening… she liked it.
They sat there at their usual table, trays half-empty, phones glowing, the cafeteria noise a distant hum around them.
Option 1: Sharon eats a large portion of dairy products and gets a boost in her transformation, just before gym class.
Option 2: Sharon eats a little dairy products and the slow transformation continues.
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·
June 13
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