by Francis Dooley for the Spring 2026 issue
The double doors of the hallway opened with a heavy, cinematic thud. Kelly stepped into the light, her heels clicking against the polished floor with a confidence she didn’t possess.
She reached the mark on the floor, the “X” that felt more like a target.
You’re a fake,” the voice insisted. “A bathtub brewer in a bargain-bin blazer. The red fabric is too thin, the lie is too thick, and the whole look bleeds desperate jester rather than dominant CEO. They aren’t nodding at your genius; they’re waiting for the mask to slip off.
“Hi, Sharks,” she said, her voice steady and melodic. “My name is Kelly, and I’m seeking five hundred thousand dollars for ten percent of my company, Surface.
Kelly spoke about proprietary distillation and global supply chain logistics. Inside, she was a frantic child hiding behind a curtain. Surface was just her grandmother’s recipe and a clever label packaged around unremarkable home brewed soap.
The Tech Titan leaned forward. “Your margins are higher than anyone else. How?”
Kelly didn’t hesitate. “Because we don’t outsource. We’ve locked in exclusive microcontracts with smallscale lavender and eucalyptus farms in the Pacific Northwest, bypassing traditional distributors.” She hoped she wasn’t lying. She hoped that it actually worked.
As the Maverick nodded in approval, a jagged memory cut through the studio lights, transporting her back twenty years.
The gymnasium smelled like floor wax and sweat. Ten-year-old Kelly stood behind a tri-fold poster titled “Resonant Peppermint: The Chopin Growth Study.” Every data point in her neat cursive was a lie. Three days ago, her actual project, a study of bean sprouts, had turned into a pile of gray mold. Instead of quitting, Kelly bought four pots of nursery peppermint and staged a crime scene.
She spent Tuesday night on the Sourland Trail, digging holes by flashlight. She rubbed local dirt into the store-bought soil and tore a few leaves to make the plants look wild.
The next morning, she didn’t just show the plants; she sold a story.
“I noticed this patch was dying,” Kelly told the judges, her voice steady. She held up a journal she’d filled out using three different pens to make it look weeks old. “I started playing Chopin’s Etude Op. 10, No. 12 for twenty minutes every day. The specific frequency of the piano notes triggered a growth response in the roots.” She showed them a grainy Polaroid of the “control” patch. Actually just a clump of dead weeds fifty yards away that she contrasted with the vibrant, store-bought mint.
Mrs. Roe, her teacher, was moved. She didn’t check the soil or look for shovel marks. She wanted to believe in the poetry of the fable. Kelly won the blue ribbon. She didn’t learn about plants that day, but she learned about people. She fooled them all.
The memory vanished as the Queen of Retail spoke. “I’m worried about the shelf life without preservatives.”
Kelly’s heart hammered, but she stayed composed and quipped, “We use a stabilized Vitamin E and rosemary oil complex,” she said, the same Chopin-level conviction in her eyes. “Our accelerated aging tests show a twenty-four-month window with zero degradation.”
The bidding began. The Tech Titan and the Queen of Retail started bickering. They saw a visionary. They saw a girl with a blue ribbon.
“I’ll take your deal,” Kelly said, pointing to the Queen.
The cameras captured the handshake. Kelly walked back down that long, dark hallway, the studio lights fading. The moment she was out of sight, she ducked into a small corner of the room, out of sight. She slumped against the wall, sliding down until her cheap skirt bunched up. Her hands were shaking.
She looked at her reflection in the darkened screen of a playback monitor. She didn’t see a CEO. She saw a girl with a fake science project, still waiting for someone to notice the store bought peppermint plants.
She straightened her hair and adjusted the suit that still felt like a costume.
“I fooled them again,” she whispered to the empty room. 🏁
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One response to “Fooled Them Again”
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Love this line: “she didn’t just show the plants; she sold a story.” Captures it all.
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