In my previous life, my teacher, a grown adult, led the charge in bullying me simply because I scored higher than her favorite male student. She spread rumors about me throughout the class, accusing me of cheating and even dating. She’d say things like: “Some people’s grades suddenly improve out of nowhere. We all know how that happens.” Or: “Some girls don’t focus on studying—they’re too busy figuring out how to seduce people!” She egged the entire class on to isolate me, and in the end, she pushed me into depression, forcing me to drop out. But this time? This time, I returned to the moment she first accused me of cheating. I raised my hand and asked: “Miss Garcia, the other day I saw you sitting on Mason Taylor’s lap. Is that how grades get improved?” The results for the midterms had just come out. I’d jumped up thirty spots in the rankings, climbing from the bottom of the class to somewhere in the middle. Lila Green, my best friend, stared at my test paper in awe. “You’re amazing, Amanda! Seriously, this is incredible.” Lila had always been my closest friend, the one who encouraged me when no one else would. Even in my past life, after I spiraled into depression and dropped out, she was the one who kept visiting, begging me to hold on. When I eventually took my own life, she cried so hard she almost passed out. Now, as I stared at the test paper on my desk, I didn’t feel much joy. I knew what was coming. Just then, the sharp clack of heels echoed through the classroom as Miss Garcia strode in, her hips swaying as if she were on a catwalk. “I’ve posted the class rankings on the board,” she announced, her tone brisk. “Feel free to take a look after class.” She paused, her gaze deliberately sweeping the room before landing on me. “But I’d like to talk about two students in particular—Amandaand Mason Taylor.” She walked over to Mason’s desk, which was right by the podium, isolated from the rest of the class. She patted him on the shoulder in a mock show of sympathy. “Mason, you’ve slipped in the rankings this time. Amanda even surpassed you.” Mason nodded, but from where I was sitting, I could see him nudge Miss Garcia’s lower back with his elbow. Disgusting. Lila, sitting beside me, bristled at Miss Garcia’s words. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she muttered under her breath. Miss Garcia’s expression hardened, her voice turning sharp. “It’s natural for students to struggle sometimes. As a teacher, it’s my job to support those who are falling behind and help them catch up. But…” She paused, her eyes narrowing as they flicked to me. “What concerns me is when certain students improve their grades too quickly. It makes you wonder what methods they might be using. I won’t investigate—out of respect. But let’s just say, everyone knows the truth.” I stared at her, her words dragging me back to my past life. It had started just like this. The first time I outperformed Mason, she began making insinuations during class meetings: “Some people’s grades suddenly improve out of nowhere. We all know how that happens.” Then she saw Mason helping me pick out a book in the library and started spreading new rumors: “Some girls spend more time flirting than studying!” She led the class in ostracizing me. In lessons, she refused to call on me, ignored my assignments, or pretended not to receive them. When she did collect my work, she never graded it. It got worse. She stopped giving me study materials, excluded me from group projects, and even left me off the class roster during school-wide attendance counts. High schoolers are simple—and cruel. If the teacher hated me, the other students followed suit. Only Lila stayed by my side, until Miss Garcia transferred her to another class. With no one left to lean on, I was buried under the weight of rumors, isolation, and cruelty. It all led to my eventual withdrawal from school and, finally, my death. And all because I’d dared to score higher than Mason Taylor, her golden boy. This time, though, I wasn’t going to sit back and take it. When Miss Garcia finished her little speech, I raised my hand. “Miss Garcia,” I said innocently, “the other day when I dropped off my homework, I saw you sitting on Mason’s lap. Is that how grades get improved?” Her face drained of color. “You—what are you talking about?! That’s absurd!” She pointed a trembling finger at me, her voice rising. “First you cheat, and now you’re spreading lies?” I tilted my head, feigning confusion. “Lies? Oh, no, I just meant… didn’t you lose your balance, and Mason was helping you steady yourself? Isn’t that what happened?” Her face turned an alarming shade of red, then pale again. “Yes! I… I lost my balance. That’s all it was.” Of course, that wasn’t what had happened. But I wasn’t trying to expose her—not yet. I just wanted to give her a taste of the humiliation she’d given me. The class, however, was already buzzing with whispers. Teenagers and their imaginations—this kind of gossip was like gasoline on a fire. Miss Garcia quickly yelled, “Enough! Quiet down—class is starting!” But her composure was gone. She didn’t even spare Mason a glance after class, rushing out of the room as soon as the bell rang. As soon as she left, my classmates swarmed me. “Amanda, was that true?” “Did Miss Garcia and Mason really… you know?” “I always thought she walked like that for a reason. Guess I was right!” I calmly gathered my books, ignoring most of the questions. Lila shot me a worried look. I grabbed her arm. “Come on, let’s go to the restroom.” Before leaving, I turned to the group. “Didn’t you hear her? She said she just lost her balance. Anything else, I wouldn’t know. If you’re curious, go find out for yourselves—but don’t drag me into it. She already doesn’t like me.” I led Lila out of the classroom. When someone spreads rumors about you, the best weapon is an even bigger, juicier rumor. And this wasn’t even a rumor—it was the truth. Miss Garcia accused me of cheating, so I planted the seed of her inappropriate behavior. Teenagers thrive on gossip, especially when it involves scandal. And a teacher-student relationship? That was dynamite. Let’s see if Miss Garcia can keep her skeletons buried now. On the way to the restroom, Lila hesitated, clearly wanting to say something. Finally, as we washed our hands, she blurted, “Amanda, I’m scared she’s going to come after you for this.” I smiled. “She won’t—unless she really has something to hide.” “But… did she really sit on Mason’s lap?” I held a finger to my lips. “Shh. Walls have ears.” Lila nodded nervously, grabbing my wrist as we hurried back to class. High school is supposed to be the most beautiful, unforgettable time of our lives. As Lila tugged me along, glancing back to urge me to keep up, I felt a pang of guilt. I was using her. It wasn’t just a warning about walls having ears—I knew someone was listening in the restroom. I wanted Miss Garcia to feel what I’d felt. To endure the same shame, isolation, and whispers. What she did to me… she deserved every bit of it.
Rumors about Miss Garcia started spreading like wildfire around the school. She swapped out her usual flashy outfits for plain, casual clothes. Even her signature high heels were replaced with flats. It was obvious she was trying to clean up her image. But, as these things go, the gossip only got worse. “Miss Garcia isn’t wearing heels anymore—do you think she’s pregnant?” “Totally. My mom was the same way when she was having my little brother. Loose clothes, flat shoes, the whole deal.” “So… who do you think the dad is?” “Do you really need to ask?” The students burst into laughter, their voices echoing through the halls. Miss Garcia must have overheard because she suddenly yelled, “Quiet!” before dragging the group of whispering students into the hallway. Her scolding was loud enough for the entire corridor to hear. The next day, she returned to her old wardrobe—heels, tight skirts, the works—like she was trying to prove she wasn’t pregnant. But what good did it do? The rumors persisted. Miss Garcia no longer called Mason Taylor to her office as often. Instead, she started targeting me. “Clean the office.” “Take these books to the principal’s office.” “Fetch me a cup of water.” She treated me like her personal assistant. But the real kicker? She constantly called me out in class. In our second year of high school, we had weekly quizzes for every subject. The homeroom teacher—Miss Garcia—was always the proctor. One day, she held up my quiz results in front of the entire class, waving the paper like a trophy. “Some students spend all their time running to the teacher’s office, yet their grades keep dropping.” Then she held up Mason’s quiz alongside another classmate’s. “Now, look at these students. They don’t waste time hanging around teachers, and yet their scores keep improving. See? When you focus on learning, progress happens naturally.” She stared at me, her voice dripping with condescension. “And then there are students who play little tricks to grab a teacher’s attention. But when the teacher tries to help, they repay it with betrayal. It’s disappointing—no, heartbreaking—for a teacher.” Her strategy was clever. By keeping me out of the classroom and constantly sending me on errands, I couldn’t keep up with the lessons. Naturally, my grades started to slip. But the rest of the class didn’t know that. To them, it just looked like I was failing because I wasn’t trying. During one of her rants, the head of academics, Mrs. Watson, happened to walk past our classroom. She paused when she noticed me standing at the back. “What’s going on here, Miss Garcia?” Mrs. Watson asked. Miss Garcia let out a dramatic sigh, pretending to look concerned. “Oh, it’s nothing. Amanda’s grades improved for a while, but now they’ve dropped again. I’m just trying to figure out how to help her.” Mrs. Watson frowned and picked up my quiz paper from Miss Garcia’s desk. “Hmm, Amanda, this isn’t great,” she said, scanning my answers. Then, her expression softened. “Come see me in my office after class. I have some practice tests—you can copy them and share them with your classmates. They’re actual exam questions. I think they’ll help.” I nodded quickly. “Thank you, Mrs. Watson!” Mrs. Watson was a senior teacher in her 50s, highly respected by both students and staff. Even the principal deferred to her judgment. She gave me a kind smile before leaving, completely unaware of how Miss Garcia’s face had darkened. When Mrs. Watson left, Miss Garcia turned back to the class, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Well, everyone, let’s all thank Amanda for being so helpful. Without her, you wouldn’t have access to these practice tests.” But the class didn’t pick up on her tone. Instead, they cheered sincerely. “Thanks, Amanda!” I stood up, bowed slightly, and said with a small smile, “Sorry for dragging the class down. I’ll try my best to catch up.”
I thought the whole thing was over, but I didn’t expect Mason Taylor to block my path after school. Keeping my hand in my pocket, I discreetly turned on the recording device hidden there. “What do you want?” Behind Mason were a few delinquent-looking guys, casually smoking and smirking. Mason stepped closer, his tone mocking. “What do I want?” He flashed a cruel smile. “Don’t you know what you’ve done?” I raised my voice. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” One of the guys behind him let out a sharp whistle. “You’ve got guts, girl. Didn’t anyone tell you not to mess with Mason Taylor?” Another chimed in, laughing, “Yeah, do you even know who you’re messing with? Mason freakin’ Taylor!” I crossed my arms, feigning indifference. “Oh, so you’re the Mason Taylor?” Mason lit a cigarette, smirking smugly. “Who else would it be?” Before I could respond, the headlights of a car cut through the dim alleyway. Miss Garcia stepped out in her usual dramatic fashion, swaying her hips as she approached. Mason immediately slung an arm around her waist, pulling her close. The group of boys let out a chorus of catcalls and whistles. Some shouted “Miss Garcia!” while others called her “sis-in-law,” their laughter echoing in the alley. Miss Garcia rolled her eyes. “Stop calling me that. You’re not my students, so why bother with the formalities?” She gave Mason a knowing look. “Only Mason gets to call me Miss Garcia.” Her gaze shifted coldly to me, a smirk curling at the corner of her lips. Then she turned back to Mason and said casually, “Just don’t kill her, okay?” I froze. I understood exactly what her words meant. As long as they didn’t kill me, anything else was fair game. Miss Garcia got back in her car and drove off without another glance, leaving me surrounded. One of the boys dumped an entire cup of milkshake over my head before I could even react. Then someone grabbed my hair, yanking me to the ground. They dragged me across the pavement while my books spilled out of my backpack, trampled and smeared with footprints and spit. Mason’s voice cut through the chaos. “Strip her. Take pictures.” The boys laughed and got to work, ripping off my clothes piece by piece until I was left in only my undergarments. I struggled, kicking and thrashing, but it only made them more aggressive. Someone kicked me in the ribs, knocking the wind out of me. Just as things were about to get worse, the piercing sound of police sirens echoed through the alley. The boys panicked, snapping a few hurried pictures before scattering. As soon as they were gone, I scrambled to put my clothes back on, my hands shaking. My first instinct was to check the recording device in my pocket. It was intact. When I looked up, I saw someone standing at the entrance to the alley. It was Jeffrey, our school’s student council president. In my last life, Jeffrey had once helped me pick out a book at the library. That simple act had been enough for Miss Garcia and her cronies to spread rumors—that I was trying to seduce him, that my grades were fake, and that I was nothing but a shameless flirt. Seeing him again now, I felt a pang of guilt. In my past life, my ruined reputation had probably affected him too. But at the moment, I didn’t have the luxury of worrying about that. I was filthy, covered in dirt, and still shaking from what had just happened. “Did they leave?” Jeffrey asked calmly. I nodded, realizing it must’ve been him who called the police. He glanced at the recording device in my hand. “Is it broken?” “No,” I replied cautiously. “Then give it to me.” I blinked, confused. “What? No, this is mine.” Jeffrey sighed, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. For the first time, I noticed something—he looked a lot like Mason. Especially those sharp, piercing eyes. “I helped you,” he said, his tone cool. “Shouldn’t you repay me somehow?” My heart sank, but I kept my expression neutral. I had a suspicion about what he wanted, but I wasn’t sure. Taking a deep breath, I decided to take a gamble. “You want to take Mason down,” I said slowly. “We can work together, but I’m not handing over my leverage. I’m keeping control of this.” Jeffrey froze for a moment, surprised. Then he laughed—a deep, genuine laugh that echoed in the quiet alley. “Whoever said you weren’t smart clearly didn’t know you,” he said, still grinning. “Alright, Amanda. How do you want to do this?” I met his gaze, my voice steady. “I want Miss Garcia ruined. Completely. As for Mason, I’ll document everything he’s done. When the time comes, I’ll decide how to use it.” Jeffrey extended his hand, his grin turning sharp. “Deal. Let’s work together.”
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