The first week at St. Benedict University had settled into a rhythm Maya became familiar with.The initial chaos of move-in had given way to a schedule of when her classes started, which library floors were quietest, how to stretch her meal plan.The academic workload was not a burden to her, she got it down to a T.
She chose psychology sophomore year at Maple Hollow High, the day after someone wrote FREAK across her locker in red Sharpie. That afternoon she sat on the library floor with a textbook open to a brain diagram, it was a circuitry that could be learned, rewired. If she understood why people hurt each other, maybe she could help change it. Not just for herself,for the kids still going through bullying.
Dr. Monroe's Intro to Cognitive Psychology had quickly become her favorite class. She'd also signed up for Statistical Methods, which most freshmen put off until sophomore year. Her third class, Developmental Psychology, tracked how thinking changed from infancy to old age. Together they pointed toward grad school, a PhD in developmental cognitive psych, and a career designing data-backed interventions for kids with chaotic early years.
But Dr. Monroe's class hit differently,it pulled her in completely, more than the others ever could.
The lectures moved through memory, perception, attention, language, problem-solving, all the core pieces of how the mind worked. Dr. Monroe never just stated a theory,she walked the class through the studies behind it, step by step.Maya loved that demand to truly understand, not memorize.
She sat in the same seat every class and filled her notebook with everything Dr. Monroe said, copying diagrams, making notes whenever Dr. Monroe would explain complex theories.Most of the class did their own thing—laptops glowing, coffee cups sweating on desks, a few people drifting in half-asleep and barely speaking up. Phones lit up in the back rows more often than not.
Jake always sat there.
He never arrived on time. The door would ease open mid-lecture, and he'd walk in slowly, unhurried. No apology, Just that quiet slide into a back-row seat, backpack dropping beside him, eyes already scanning the board like he'd caught up the second he got into class
Dr. Monroe noticed it of course, but she'd stopped commenting after the first week.
Today was Wednesday, week two. The lecture was on cognitive biases, Maya had read the chapter twice and made flashcards for the key concepts.
Dr. Monroe clicked to the first slide: Cognitive Biases: Why Smart People Make Dumb Decisions.
"Let's begin with a thought experiment," Dr. Monroe said. "Suppose I tell you that the average temperature in July in Portland, Oregon, is seventy-nine degrees Fahrenheit. Now I ask you: what do you think the average temperature is in July in Seattle, Washington?"
A few hands went up. Dr. Monroe pointed to a girl in the front row.
"Maybe... seventy-five?"
"Reasonable guess. Anyone else?"
"Eighty?" a guy in the back suggested.
"Also reasonable. The actual answer is seventy-five degrees. But here's the interesting part: if I had told you the average July temperature in Portland was ninety degrees, your guesses for Seattle would have been higher. If I'd said sixty degrees, your guesses would have been lower. The initial number I gave you—the anchor—pulled your estimates toward it, even though Portland's temperature is functionally irrelevant to Seattle's temperature. That is anchoring bias. The first piece of information you encounter becomes a cognitive reference point, and every subsequent judgment is adjusted relative to that anchor. And this happens unconsciously. You don't even realize you're doing it."
Maya wrote down the definition, connecting anchoring bias to the adjustment concept they'd covered last week.
Dr. Monroe advanced the slide. "Anchoring bias affects everything. Salary negotiations. Real estate prices. Medical diagnoses. Legal sentencing. If a prosecutor asks for a twenty-year sentence, the jury is anchored to that number. If they ask for five years, the anchor shifts. Studies show that even wildly irrelevant anchors—random numbers generated by spinning a wheel—can influence expert judgments. This is not a minor glitch. This is a fundamental feature of human cognition. And it makes us predictably, systematically wrong."
The lecture hall was quiet. Maya glanced around, most of the students were taking notes, their expressions ranging from mildly interested to actively confused. A girl nearby was doodling. Someone in the back had their head propped on their hand.
And Jake Thompson, three rows ahead, was leaning back with his arms crossed, staring at the ceiling.
Maya's jaw tightened, for the life of her she couldn't understand why his whole person irked her.
Dr. Monroe continued. "Let's talk about another bias: the availability heuristic. This is the tendency to judge the probability of an event based on how easily examples come to mind. For instance, are you more likely to die in a plane crash or a car crash?"
"A plane crash!" a few students called out.
"Wrong. You are far more likely to die in a car crash. But plane crashes are more vivid, more memorable, more covered by the media. So they're more cognitively available. Your brain retrieves examples of plane crashes easily, and you mistakenly conclude that plane crashes are more common. This is why people are terrified of flying but don't think twice about driving. The availability heuristic is why we overestimate the risk of terrorism and underestimate the risk of heart disease. It's why we think crime is rising when it's actually falling. Our perception of reality is distorted by what's memorable, not by what's true."
Maya copied it down. This was why she loved psychology. The way people hunted for proof that backed what they already believed and ignored everything else.
"Now," Dr. Monroe said, her voice sharpening, "let's discuss confirmation bias. This is perhaps the most insidious bias of all. Confirmation bias is the tendency to search for, interpret, and remember information that confirms your preexisting beliefs. We are not neutral observers of reality. We are motivated reasoners. We seek evidence that supports what we already think, and we ignore or dismiss evidence that contradicts it."
She paused. "Let me give you an example. Suppose you believe that people on welfare are lazy. What do you do? You notice every news story about welfare fraud. You remember every anecdote about someone abusing the system. You discount statistics showing that most welfare recipients are working or actively seeking work. Your brain is filtering reality through the lens of your belief, and that filter is extraordinarily powerful. This is why political polarization is so intractable. This is why it's almost impossible to change someone's mind once they've committed to a position. Confirmation bias turns belief into identity, and challenging someone's belief feels like attacking who they are."
Maya's hand shot up.
Dr. Monroe looked at her. "Yes, Ms. Alvarez?"
Maya's heart pounded. "Isn't that related to the backfire effect? Where contradicting someone's beliefs makes them double down instead of changing their mind?"
Dr. Monroe's expression shifted slightly. "Precisely. The backfire effect is confirmation bias taken further. When core beliefs are challenged, people don't update their thinking. They defend harder, attack the source, generate counterarguments. Changing your mind means admitting you were wrong, and for most people that feels impossible."
She clicked to the next slide. "This is why intellectual humility is so rare and so valuable. The ability to say, 'I was wrong. I updated my beliefs based on new evidence.' That is the hallmark of a rational mind. And it is vanishingly uncommon."
Maya leaned back, a fuzzy warm feeling filling her up, at that moment she looked up without thinking and caught Jake's eyes on her, the feeling evaporated.
The lecture ended at 9:50. Dr. Monroe reminded them to read chapters four and five, and the room erupted into noise as people zipped backpacks and started talking.
Maya stayed in her seat, putting her things away carefully.
"Maya?"
She looked up. Elena was standing at the end of her row, backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Hey. What are you doing here?"
"Came to see how your Cognitive Psych lectures went." Elena grinned, watching Maya arrange her supplies.
Maya smiled despite herself. "That's how you lose things."
Elena laughed. "Fair point. Hey, I'm grabbing lunch at the student union. Want to come?"
Maya hesitated. The student union was always crowded. "I have Stats homework. I'll probably just hit the library."
"Of course you do." Elena adjusted her bag. "Okay, but you're eating dinner with me later, non-negotiable. You need actual food."
"I eat."
"Granola bars don't count." Elena started backing toward the door. "See you tonight."
She left.
The lecture hall was nearly empty. Maya finished packing and stood.
That was when she saw Jake near the back row with another guy. She recognized as the guy who'd been in the hallway after Jake ran into her. They were talking in low voices, and from their expressions, whatever they were discussing was making them both tense
Jake's jaw was tight and his hands were shoved deep in his pockets while Riley leaned in close, speaking quickly with a serious expression on his face.
Maya knew she should leave and go to the library, but something made her pause. She moved slowly and pretended to check her phone, lingering near the side aisle where she could hear them without being obvious.
"—not just about the grade," Jake was saying, his voice strained. "Coach Miller called me into his office yesterday and said my GPA is a 'liability to the team.' A liability. Like I'm some kind of fucking problem they're trying to manage."
"Dude, you're the starting quarterback," Riley said. "They're not going to bench you over a bad grade in Psych."
"They will if my dad has anything to say about it." Jake's voice became harder. "He already talked to the athletic director and told him I'm not taking my academics seriously, and said it reflects poorly on the family. You know what that means, right? It means he's embarrassed, and when my dad gets embarrassed, he turns into a total asshole. He's already threatening to pull his donations if I don't get my shit together."
Riley swore under his breath. "That's insane."
"That's my life." Jake ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "He doesn't care that I'm putting in thirty hours a week between practice and conditioning, that I'm playing through a torn ligament that should have benched me two weeks ago. All he cares about is the golden boy Jake Thompson, star quarterback, pre-med track, destined for greatness persona I've got,except I'm failing Cognitive Psych for the second time and Calc, and I barely scraped a C-minus in Bio last semester. So now I'm not the golden boy. I'm the embarrassment."
Maya stood there with her phone still in her hand. She shouldn't be hearing this, but she couldn't stop herself.
"What did Coach say?" Riley asked.
"He said if I don't pass Monroe's class, I'm done. Not just benched, done. Off the team. And if that happens, my dad will pull me out of SBU entirely. He's already got a 'backup plan'—some finance internship in New York where I can 'learn the family business' and stop 'wasting his money on a football fantasy.'"
"Jesus, Jake."
"Yeah." Jake exhaled. "So I need to pass, not just pass, Riley. I need to actually understand this shit because Monroe's tests aren't multiple choice, they're essays. She wants you to synthesize concepts and apply them to real-world scenarios. And I don't have that, I don't have any of it. I'm drowning and I don't know how to fix it."
Riley was quiet for a moment, then said, "What about a tutor? Like, a real one, and I'm not talking about the athletic department's joke of a study group."
"Tried that freshman year, didn't help much. The guy they assigned me just read the textbook out loud. I mean, that's literally something I could do myself."
"So find someone better. Like, someone who actually knows this stuff, bro."
Jake didn't respond immediately, but when he did, his voice was much quieter. "Did you see that girl today? The one who answered Monroe's question about the backfire effect?"
Maya's breath hitched.
"Alvarez?" Riley said. "Yeah, you told me about her, you said she's smart, like, scary smart."
"She's in my class, she sits a few rows back, is a really serious student, and always has the right answers." Jake paused. "Monroe loves her."
"So ask her to tutor you."
"Why the hell would she say yes?"
"I don't know, man. Money? The chance to spend quality time with the Jake Thompson?" Riley's tone was teasing.
Jake didn't laugh. "Yeah. I'm sure she's dying to help the guy who's failing the class she's acing, who's probably the biggest douche in her eyes because of the reputation I have."
"You won't know unless you ask, man."
Maya didn't wait to hear more. She turned and walked out as quickly as she could without drawing attention, pushed through the double doors, and kept going.
By the time she reached the library, her anxiety had eased.
The library was her sanctuary.
Even back at Maple Hollow, the small public one had felt safe. Here at SBU it was five stories of tall windows, soft light, polished wood. She found her corner carrel near sociology, with trees outside the window, she set down her backpack, pulled out her laptop and notebook, tried to focus on Stats homework.
But she couldn't.
Jake's voice kept replaying in her head. I'm drowning, Riley. And I don't know how to fix it.
She didn't want to feel sympathy for him, neither did she want to see him as anything other than an entitled quarterback. But the desperation in his voice had been real.
And despite herself, a small part of her brain whispered maybe I could help, then she shook it off. Not her problem. He had resources. He didn't need her.
Her laptop chimed with a new email from Dr. Monroe.
Subject line: Mandatory Study Groups - Assignments.
Maya opened it.
Dear Students,
Due to the high failure rate in this course, I am implementing mandatory study groups. Each group will be led by a top-performing student and will meet twice weekly to review material and prepare for exams. Attendance is required and will factor into your participation grade.
Group assignments are listed below.
Maya scrolled down.
Group A: Led by Maya Alvarez
Her stomach dropped, but she kept scrolling.
Group members:
- Chloe Davis
- Michael Chen
- Jake Thompson
She stared at the screen.
Jake Thompson? The least serious person she'd ever met, who had daddy issues and whined a lot.
And now he was her responsibility.
Maya closed her laptop and sat back in her chair.
This was going to be interesting.