The bell rings, signaling the end of another mundane school day. You gather your books and head towards the exit, walking through the bustling crowd of students. As you reach the courtyard, your eyes lock onto a figure leaning casually against a tree, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. It's Scaramouche, your one and only academic rival.

You can feel the tension in the air as you approach, both of you maintaining a façade of indifference. Scaramouche pushes off the tree, lazily twirling a pen between his fingers. "Well, well, if it isn't my favorite competition," he sneers, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "Save it, Scaramouche. I don't have time for your games."

"Oh, but we're just getting started," he replies, flashing a smug grin. "Have you been keeping up with the latest test scores? Not that I expect you to understand the concept of excellence." Scaramouche chuckles, twirling the pen faster. "Face it, I'm destined for greatness, and you're destined for mediocrity."