In my past life, my sister, Ivy Bright, urged me to skip class, play online games all night, and sleep through lessons. Whenever I tried to study, she mocked me for pretending to be “so serious.” But at night, she was burning the midnight oil, studying in secret during holidays and meeting with star scholars like Mia Goldstein at the library. When the SATs came around, she got into Ivy Tech University, graduated to work at Stellar Innovations Inc., and married a programmer making hundreds of thousands a year. I, on the other hand, scored just 200 points, earning the disdain of my parents, who sent me to Midland Assembly Plant to screw bolts. Later, I married a guy like Trey Walters, who abused me even while I was pregnant, leading to my tragic death during childbirth. At my funeral, Ivy wore her mask of sorrow and said, “Hazel was so smart but refused to apply herself. Everything she faced was her own doing. Unlike me, who always worked hard and changed my fate through education.” Then, I opened my eyes. I was back at the Cyber Zone Lounge, locked in an intense gaming session with my team.
I shook my drowsy head, grabbed my grimy backpack, and sprinted home. At home, Ivy was furiously scribbling notes under her desk lamp. Seeing me, she quickly stashed her study sheets. “Hazel, why are you back? Now your team is one short. How will they win without you?” It was always Ivy who dragged me to the lounge. Then, she’d yawn, fake being tired, and sneak off to study at home. I grabbed my untouched SAT prep books and taped my target school, “Harvard-MIT Alliance,” on the wall. Ivy’s face darkened with rage. “You? Harvard-MIT? Who do you think you are?” Not only would I aim for Harvard-MIT, but I’d show her that natural talent could never be surpassed by hard work. The smoky, sweat-filled air of the Cyber Zone Lounge lingered in my memory as my teammates shouted obscenities after a loss. It hit me—I’d been reborn. I was back at seventeen, just one month before the first major SAT mock exam. I didn’t care about the commotion I left behind. Grabbing my filthy bag, I bolted. “Hazel, you promised to carry us to gold rank!” they yelled after me, but I didn’t turn back. My future mattered more than their fleeting victories. When I got home, it was 1 a.m. Ivy’s light was still on, her silhouette reflected in the window. Her pen raced across the paper. I barged into her room. Ivy jumped, hastily shoving her study guide under her arm. Smirking, I recorded her with my phone. “You said you were too tired to study. So why are you still up?” I yawned. Feigning nonchalance, she replied, “Oh, I woke up to use the bathroom and realized my backpack wasn’t packed. I’m just fixing it before going to bed.” Ivy turned off her lamp. I returned to my room, flicked on a desk light I hadn’t used in ages, and opened my blank prep books. In my past life, I barely scraped into high school by cramming during my final weeks of middle school. Ivy, meanwhile, convinced me that being friends with the “cool kids” mattered more than grades. The school’s “pay-to-play” Honors Track was filled with rich kids who slacked off but bought their way in. I believed Ivy and started skipping classes to hang out with them at Cyber Zone Lounge. We measured status by gaming prowess, and I became the best of them. But I hadn’t realized they were all wealthy. By senior year, they transferred to private international programs or left for prestigious overseas schools, ready to inherit family businesses. My parents, though, were just regular workers. Without good grades, I had no future except assembly lines. At Midland Assembly Plant, Trey Walters—a worker with bleached blond hair—took an interest in me. I mentioned it to Ivy, who cheered me on. “True love is priceless,” she said. “If Trey loves you, that’s all that matters. Love conquers all.” I believed her. Trey and I moved in together, had a baby without a wedding, and barely signed the marriage certificate. Once married, Trey started beating me. Drunk, he’d mock me. “You and Ivy came from the same parents. Why is she so brilliant while you’re as dumb as a pig?” I cried bitterly, wondering where I had gone wrong. I used to be the smartest one—the girl who could solve problems at a glance, memorize pages instantly. My middle school teachers couldn’t believe I had failed my SATs.
My tragic fate culminated in a difficult labor. Trey refused a C-section, resulting in both my baby and me dying. On my deathbed, I called Ivy endlessly, but she claimed she was too busy. The moment I passed, she showed up. At my funeral, people shook their heads, saying, “How did such a bright girl end up like this?” Ivy put on a show of grief. “Hazel was so smart but wasted her potential. Her downfall was her own fault. Unlike me, I worked hard and changed my fate through perseverance.” Once everyone left, Ivy gloated over her victory. Turns out, Ivy had always been jealous of me. As a child, I was the center of our parents’ attention. Her envy consumed her. She manipulated my trust and orchestrated my downfall. This time, I wouldn’t fall for her tricks. I wrote “I will get into Harvard-MIT” in bold letters and taped it above my desk. Opening my freshman-year textbooks, I started from the first page. By 3 a.m., I’d finished two books, every concept burned into my memory. I caught two hours of sleep before heading to school at dawn. By the time my classmates arrived, I’d already memorized both volumes of freshman English vocabulary. “Hazel Bright’s actually studying? That’s a first!” “Only six months until the SATs. Even if she tries, the best she can hope for is community college.” “With her grades? A state school’s out of reach. She’ll end up in some overpriced private college at best.” I ignored the chatter. My scores would do the talking. Ivy showed up late as usual, barely beating the bell. “Hazel, why didn’t you wake me up this morning?” she complained. “I’ll be at school by 5 a.m. from now on. Set your own alarm if you want to join me.” Ivy looked puzzled. “Why would you get here so early? You don’t even study.” From behind me, Ethan Carrington chimed in. “Your sister’s been up since dawn memorizing vocab. She’s already gone through two books. Something’s seriously up with her.” Ivy froze, then exploded, “Hazel, we’re just here to get a degree. After we graduate, we’ll both head to Midland Assembly Plant. I’ve heard top workers make good money there—over $3,000 a month!” I pulled out my phone and played the video I’d recorded. “If the assembly plant’s so great, why are you sneaking in late-night study sessions?” Ivy’s face went pale. Ethan grabbed my phone and barked, “Ivy Bright! No wonder you always ditch our games midway. You’ve been secretly studying all this time!” “All that effort, and you still only scored 400 points? Guess your brain’s not built for this.” Ivy flushed with rage. She opened her notebook and tried memorizing vocab, but after ten repetitions, she still couldn’t get it. After school, I still went with the rich kids to the Cyber Zone Lounge. I wasn’t about to cut ties with them. Someday, they’d be valuable connections. In my past life, Ivy snatched up all the relationships I’d worked so hard to cultivate. This time, that wasn’t happening.
After leading my team to five straight wins, I rushed home. When I walked in, my parents immediately went on the offensive. “Well, look who decided to come home early! Didn’t you say you’d rather die at Cyber Zone Lounge than come back here?” “Why don’t you just stay there forever? Let’s see what kind of SAT scores you’ll pull off.” In my last life, my parents had tried everything to get me to study, but I blindly believed Ivy’s lies and rebelled. Eventually, they gave up on me, only making sure I wasn’t starving but otherwise washing their hands of me. After my death, though, they mourned for a long time. My mom was hospitalized from the grief. I dropped to my knees with a thud. “Mom, Dad, I’m sorry. I was so stupid before. I’ll study hard and get into a good college—I swear!” My mom turned to look at me, stunned. Then she quickly wiped her tears, pretending she wasn’t crying. My dad helped me up immediately. “It’s alright. You finally understand. I always knew you weren’t a bad kid at heart. There’s not much time left, but give it your all. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll figure something out—even if it means another year of preparation.” I nodded firmly. “Don’t worry. I’ll get in on the first try. I’m aiming for Harvard-MIT Alliance!” Ivy stepped out of her room holding her notebook. “Hazel, why are you back? Weren’t you gaming with Ethan and the others at Cyber Zone?” She walked up to me, fake innocence dripping from her expression, before dramatically pinching her nose. “Eww, Hazel, you reek of cigarettes! The smell is unbearable!” My mom leaned in, sniffed, and instantly slapped me across the face. “I knew it! You can’t change your ways, can you? Lying about studying, coming home stinking of smoke. With grades like yours, scoring 200 on the SAT, and skipping class to play games, if you can get into Harvard-MIT, then pigs might fly!” Disappointed, my dad sighed and followed my mom back to their room. Alone with me, Ivy dropped her mask. “Hazel, stop wasting your time. Six months isn’t enough for you to surpass me. I’ve been holding back; I’m not just a 400-point scorer.” I laughed coldly and walked to my room. Words wouldn’t convince anyone—I’d let my results speak for themselves. Weekly tests rolled around, and while I showed improvement, my scores were still far from passing. Ivy, on the other hand, dropped her façade and performed at her real level—second in the class and tenth in the grade. The homeroom teacher praised me, saying I had a shot at getting into a state college. I glanced at Ivy’s test papers. She hadn’t solved the hardest questions. Her brain just wasn’t built for it. Ivy shoved her paper in front of me, pointing at her scores. “Hazel, look! I got a perfect score in English and 129 in math. What about you?” She pretended to examine my scores. “Wow, a 59 in math? So close! If the test was out of 100, you’d be just one point away from passing. Too bad it’s out of 150, and passing is 90.” “Oh, and you’re so much better in reading and writing—60 in English! Your verbal scores definitely beat your math!” Ethan tried to console me. “Hazel, maybe studying isn’t your thing. You’ve stopped pulling all-nighters with us at Cyber Zone. Without you, we’re losing ranks like crazy!” Ivy jumped in with fake scolding. “Ethan, don’t say that about my sister. She’s aiming for Harvard-MIT!” The whole class erupted in laughter. “Seriously? Hazel Bright, the future Harvard-MIT scholar?” “With a total score under 400, she thinks she can get into Harvard-MIT? That’s hilarious!” “She must think she owns Harvard-MIT and can just waltz in whenever she wants.” Ignoring them, I pulled out a SAT prep workbook and got back to solving problems. Suddenly, my homeroom teacher, Mr. Gregory Nash, barged into the classroom, waving a stack of scratch paper. “Hazel, is this yours?” I nodded, confused. To my surprise, Mr. Nash hugged me. “You’re a genius, Hazel! An absolute genius!” “The principal always says I can’t teach beyond General Track students. But here I am, proving him wrong—teaching a future Harvard-MIT student!” Ivy froze in shock. “Mr. Nash, my sister’s scores improved, sure, but she only got 397. How could she possibly get into Harvard-MIT?” Mr. Nash patted my shoulder proudly. “She’ll make it. Hazel is the smartest student I’ve ever taught.” Ethan muttered, “Is Mr. Nash losing it?” Mock exam results came out, and the school rankings were posted in the hallway. Ivy ranked 20th in the grade. I placed 988th. Ivy immediately seized the chance to mock me. “Wow, Hazel! You’ve improved so much—up to 988th! Harvard-MIT is just around the corner!” Laughter echoed through the halls. The grade director, who had been watching, muttered, “Hazel Bright should be ranked first in the grade.” Ivy’s face twisted in anger. “Hazel’s scores are pathetic. Why does everyone believe in her? There’s no way she can go from 200 to 700 in six months!” Leaning close, I whispered, “Want to know why everyone believes I can make it to Harvard-MIT?” I spread out my test papers and answer sheets in front of her. Ivy’s eyes widened as she scanned them. “This can’t be real!” “It’s impossible! You must have cheated! I’m reporting you!” My answer sheet was a masterpiece. I’d ignored all the simple, basic questions but solved every difficult one, using elegant shortcuts. Ivy had only answered half of the questions I had—and she’d gotten some wrong. Grabbing my papers, she stormed into the principal’s office, bursting in without knocking. “Principal Price, I’m here to report Hazel Bright from 11-B for cheating on the mock exam!” Inside, the principal sat with several teachers, analyzing my test papers. Seeing us, Dr. Price gestured for me to join them. “Perfect timing, Hazel. We were just discussing your results. Can you explain why you left all the easy questions blank but solved the hardest ones so well?” “I didn’t want to discourage my peers. If I went all out from the start, my scores would be too intimidating. I’ll save my best performance for the final mock and the SATs.” I glanced at Ivy, whose face darkened. Mr. Nash laughed. “Exactly as I thought! Hazel’s strategy is brilliant.” Dr. Price made an immediate decision. “Both Hazel and Ivy are being transferred to the Honor Track.” I refused the transfer—it didn’t matter where I studied. Ivy, however, declined for one reason: she needed to stay close to sabotage me. After school, Ivy gathered Ethan and some others to corner me. “Hazel, let’s do an all-nighter at Cyber Zone tonight. I’ve got a big promotion match.” I agreed, leading them to five more wins before heading home. Just as I was leaving, a man, at least seven or eight years older than me, leaned over from behind and wrapped his arms around me. “Your moves are sloppy. Let me teach you.” The stink of body odor and cheap cologne made me gag as I slipped away. “Who the hell are you?” Ivy stepped forward. “Hazel, this is Rocco Delgado, the most powerful man around here. With him protecting you, no one would dare mess with you.” Rocco lit a cigarette, blowing smoke rings as if he were the star of some cheesy movie. “Hazel Bright, I like you. You’re my girlfriend now. Let’s go.” Ivy shoved my bag at me, grinning. “You’re so lucky, Hazel. I’ll cover for you with Mom and Dad.” Rocco reached for me, but I darted away. “Don’t touch me.” Rocco grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. “Quit playing hard to get. Your sister says you throw yourself at men all the time.” Ethan stepped between us, pulling me behind him. “I don’t care who you think you are, Rocco. Back off. Lay a finger on Hazel, and I’ll end you.” Rocco, furious at being challenged, lunged at Ethan, who held his ground.
The fight landed us all at Midtown Police Precinct. Ethan sported a few bruises, but Rocco looked worse—his nose broken as he whined to the officers. When my parents arrived, they were livid. “You’re not only ruining yourself, Hazel, but dragging Ivy down with you. How many times do I have to tell you to stop being a bad influence?” My mom tried to slap me again, but an officer stopped her. “Mrs. Bright, please calm down. Things aren’t what they seem.” Before the officer could explain, Ivy burst into tears. “Mom, I’ve been trying so hard to help Hazel. She’s improved her scores recently, so I thought if I kept her away from gaming, she could do even better. I saw her at Cyber Zone again tonight and tried to bring her home, but then she got involved with this guy, and things escalated.” “Maybe you should send her to Internet Addiction Rehab. Once she’s better, she can take the SAT again and aim for Harvard-MIT!” My mom sighed heavily. “Maybe that’s the only way. Hazel used to be so bright, but gaming has ruined her. I’ll call the rehab center tomorrow.” Ethan, head bandaged, rushed to defend me. “Mrs. Bright, Ivy’s lying! She’s the one who dragged Hazel to Cyber Zone tonight. She even set Hazel up with Rocco, trying to force her into being his girlfriend. Hazel refused, and that’s why I stepped in!” Ivy’s face turned pale as she stammered, “Ethan, I know you like Hazel, but you don’t have to make up stories for her. Why would I ever associate with someone like Rocco?” “If Hazel’s such a saint, why does Rocco say she’s been hanging around him for ages?” My mom, without waiting to hear more, slapped me. “I’m so disappointed in you, Hazel. If you won’t focus on school, at least stop hanging out with these kinds of people. You’re going to Internet Addiction Rehab tomorrow. And you’ll cut ties with Rocco.” Behind my mom, Ivy smirked triumphantly.
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