They called me a bastard, a filthy whore. Until I ranked first in the entire city and got into college, all the insults and rumors stopped dead. My biological parents, who’d sold me away, suddenly showed up, fighting over who got to pay my tuition. My ex-boyfriend, who’d dumped me a month before college applications, came crawling back, begging me to get back together. But for them, all I felt was hatred. —— During the first semester of my senior year, a video went viral at our school. In the video, my foster father had his arm around my waist, his lips brushing my cheek, and I was smiling, looking all sweet and innocent. That ten-second clip exploded like a bomb, spreading like wildfire throughout the entire school and our small town. They hurled the vilest, most venomous insults at me and my foster father. To prove my innocence, my foster father took his own life. He jumped from the seventh floor, leaving a suicide note with just a few lines: “You can curse me, but don’t you dare curse my daughter. I’m using my death to prove that my daughter and I are completely innocent. I hope these rumors die with me, and you stop slandering her.” My foster father died, but the rumors didn’t end there; they only grew worse. The school called me in, urging me to take a leave of absence or drop out entirely. They said the scandal had too much of a social impact and was damaging the school’s reputation. My boyfriend, Blake, silently cut all ties with me. No matter how many times I tried to reach him, my messages vanished into a black hole. The cold mockery and relentless verbal abuse from everyone around me suffocated me. During that time, I desperately hoped the police would catch the person who spread the video and give me justice. But who would’ve thought the one spreading the rumors was Chloe, my own deskmate? She’d always seemed nice; we got along well. She was a top student, the teachers’ darling. * When the police arrived, Chloe, guilt written all over her face, ran to the rooftop and threatened to jump. Her stunt drew a crowd below, all staring up, eager for drama. She cried, claiming it wasn’t intentional, begging for my forgiveness. Her tears were dripping with fakery. Her suicide attempt was nothing more than a cheap stunt. But I became the target of everyone’s blame. They said she was innocent, and I should be more forgiving. They said, “You’re classmates, it’s not worth taking it to this extreme.” They said… They once again used words to corner me. When the rumors first started, they hadn’t said a single word in my defense. Now, they wanted me to be forgiving. My entire world crumbled. 2 I dropped to my knees in front of Chloe, my eyes burning red. “I forgive you,” I choked out. “Just give me my dad back. Please, just give him back, and I’ll do anything.” The police, the teachers, even the principal, they all fell silent. Chloe froze for a moment, then started wailing again, claiming she’d jump, a life for a life. But her hands were clamped tight around the railing. She wasn’t actually trying to die; she was using death as a weapon to force my forgiveness. “Then go ahead and die!” I roared, my mind consumed by a single thought: *If she doesn’t jump, I’ll push her.* The police seemed to read my mind. One officer grabbed me, while the others quickly pulled Chloe down. What truly crushed me was that she received no punishment. A week later, she was back in class as if nothing happened, while I was expelled. The final, crushing blow was finding out Blake and Chloe were together. A picture of them, fingers intertwined, was posted on the school gossip blog. The title read: “A Match Made in Heaven.” It was only then that I learned they were childhood sweethearts. Once again, I felt like a clown, a pathetic laughingstock. That night, I pressed a blade to my wrist. The cold, sharp blade. The cold, relentless rumors. There was no difference; both carved deep into my heart. What saved me was a phone call. My foster father’s close friend, Uncle George, called. He told me there was money Mr. Davis had left for my college education. A hundred thousand dollars – his entire military pension. My foster father often said, “When my girl gets into college, her dad will personally take her there, so she can experience the college vibe.” Mr. Davis never had much education or money. His biggest wish was for me to get into college, find a good job, so I wouldn’t have to struggle like he did. If I died, wouldn’t that give those scum exactly what they wanted? No! I had to live, get into college with the best possible grades, and fulfill my foster father’s wish. As for the trash who hurt me? Once college applications are over, I’ll deal with them, one by one. * Not long after, I transferred to a really rundown high school. It wasn’t far from my old school, just across the street. In this slightly dilapidated school, where I could often smell the salty sea breeze, I studied like a maniac. During the first mock exams, no surprise, I came in first place in the entire school. Being number one in a dump of a school didn’t mean much, but my score was only twenty points shy of the top student at the elite high school next door. My grades were enough to shock my homeroom teacher. Mr. Henderson, my bald homeroom teacher, looked over my exam seven or eight times. Finally, he just said, “You didn’t cheat, did you?” My gaze was steady as I told him, “Next time, I’ll be ranked first in the city.” Mr. Henderson didn’t say anything, but that afternoon, he went into town and photocopied a mountain of study materials, filling his little used car. He brought them all to my house and said earnestly, “Study hard. You *will* get into college.” This rundown high school had only seen a handful of students get into a four-year college since it was founded. He had high hopes for me. I nodded and thanked him. * By the end of my senior year’s first semester, my grades had already matched the top student at the elite high school. Most people suspected I’d cheated my way to those grades. I didn’t explain, didn’t even acknowledge them. In those six months, I’d learned an emotion called indifference. During the winter break, when we had a seven-day holiday, Blake, out of nowhere, called and invited me to meet him. I wasn’t about to invite bad luck during the holidays, so I blocked his number and ignored him. 3 He tried calling from different numbers, so I just took the battery out of my phone. After the break, seniors had to go back to school. Blake shamelessly ambushed me at the school gates, starting with, “Why are you ignoring me?” I didn’t want to become a public spectacle at the school gates, so I strode away. My indifference clearly angered him. He grabbed my wrist, making me stumble two steps. The books in my arms scattered across the ground, drawing the attention of passersby. I hadn’t wanted to get angry or make a scene, but he pushed me too far. I swung my arm back and slapped him across the face. The sound was sharp and loud. My hand stung a little. Not far away, Chloe ran over, her voice sharp. “What are you doing hitting him? Are you crazy?” I ignored them, crouching down to pick up my books, one by one. Blake took a deep breath, feigning magnanimity. “I’ll let the slap go. I just want to ask you one thing: are we really over?” Seriously, some people have no shame. They’re practically invincible. When the rumors first started, he vanished without a trace, not even a single word of comfort, terrified I’d stain his perfect image. Now that things had quieted down, he had the gall to show up at my door. I was truly pathetic for being so blind. “Stop acting like the tragic hero of some lame drama! Get lost, you’re making me sick!” After letting out my anger, I clutched my books, ready to leave. Behind me, Chloe suddenly shouted, “I know you hate me! What you and your foster father did… I shouldn’t have filmed it, it’s all my fault! But Blake truly loves you, how can you treat him like this?” Her words were like a knife, twisting deep into my heart. Everyone around us heard her shout and looked up. Their gazes fixated on me, filled with shock and disgust. The thread of sanity in my mind snapped instantly. I grabbed the book in my hand and hurled it at her. Blake jumped in front of Chloe, and the book hit him. Hiding behind him, Chloe looked at me with the smug grin of a victor, utterly triumphant. It was as if she was saying: “Look at you, you loser.” I was enraged, lunging at her like a madwoman. Suddenly, a tall figure stepped in front of me. I slammed into his chest, my nose throbbing, tears stinging my eyes. “Don’t lose your composure when you’re upset.” A clear, cool voice, like a fresh breeze, gently entered my ears. I slowly calmed down and looked up. The man radiated a gentle aura, his handsome features hinting at maturity. He was a stranger, yet he gave me a strange sense of security. “Isn’t that Dr. Alex Stone, our new school doctor? He’s so hot!” “More than hot, I heard his family is loaded. He’s just here at our school temporarily, waiting to get into a big hospital.” Three girls nearby whispered, their eyes full of admiration as they looked at the man. Seeing me fighting back tears, Dr. Stone took off his light jacket and gently draped it over my head. In that small, dark space, a sense of safety enveloped me. I forced myself to regain control. “You two aren’t students here. Get out of here now, don’t cause any more trouble!” Dr. Stone warned them sternly. 4 Perhaps because Dr. Stone didn’t look much older than us, Blake didn’t take him seriously, responding arrogantly, “This is between her and me. It’s none of your business.” Dr. Stone glanced at Blake, then said calmly, “I’ve already called your principal. If you’re not gone in five minutes, he’ll come personally to escort you out.” This was a critical time for college applications and tests; no senior wanted to cause trouble right then. Blake clenched his jaw, furious but helpless, and stormed off. By now, my emotions had stabilized. I took off the jacket and called out loud enough for everyone to hear: “Chloe, you deliberately filmed that video of me and my dad to make it look twisted, just to slander me and get me kicked out, all so you could get back with Blake, right? Well, let me tell you this now: karma’s a bitch!” Chloe probably hadn’t expected me to confront her head-on. Her face flushed, then paled. She finally managed to stammer, “Your foster father died to cover up your dirty little secret…” Before she could finish, I cut her off. “I dare you to come with me to a clinic and get a medical exam to prove no inappropriate contact ever happened! Would you dare admit you’re the one who spread the rumors? That’s three to seven years in prison, and you won’t get away with it!” Chloe’s face instantly went paper-white. She stammered for a while, unable to say anything coherent. Blake, feeling sorry for Chloe, pointed at me. “Enough! Are you trying to force Chloe to jump off a roof twice? Can’t you just be kind?” Kindness? What even *is* kindness?
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