2

By Monday morning, I couldn’t walk ten feet without hearing my name... and not in a good way.

****

"Elsa, you really need to stop letting people walk all over you," Sarah whispered beside me, clutching her books to her chest.

I kept my gaze low, goosebumps crawling up my neck. "You think they’re staring at me… or is it just in my head?"

Sarah didn’t answer right away. Then: "They’re staring." 

And... laughing. A girl with blonde hair passed by, smirking. "Loved your video, little miss priss," she said, twirling her phone in her hands.

My face turned red.

Sarah’s phone chimed. She pulled it out slowly, frowning as she tapped the screen. Her eyes widened. "Oh… no."

"What?" I leaned closer.

She hesitated, then turned the screen toward me. The video began with me, nervous, fumbling at the handle of a bedroom door. Then it cut to Jace Weston, hair a mess, as he stepped out of the same room this morning.

My entire body stiffen. I swore my heart began pounding out of my chest. "No... No. This... this can't be real." I said, stumbling backwards.

"It's already viral," Sarah said, face flushed. "They even made a meme out of you falling down the stairs with fake moaning."

Then... That's when I heard it, the laugh, Laureen.

"Well, well," she said behind us. "If it isn’t Dashling High’s newest p**n star."

Sarah stiffened. "Walk away."

But she didn't, she stepped closer. "Tell me, Elsa, was it worth it? Throwing yourself at Jace like some desperate little pick-me?"

"Leave her alone," Sarah snapped.

Laureen smirked. "Or what?"

My throat was tight, my chest arched, people had started gathering, watching, cameras clicked.

"I mean," Laureen went on, her voice loud now, "Jace Weston? Really? That’s some serious delusion. No way he touched that..."

I clenched my fists, but I couldn't speak, not with the whole school starring at me.

Then I heard my name. No, not my name.

"Hey, Quarterback!" Laureen shouted down the hall. "Mind clearing up the rumors? Did you really sleep with Nosy Elsa?"

Everything stopped; The hallway, my breath, time itself. Jace looked up from his group. His eyes landed on mine. And for a second, I felt hopeful that he won't lie, that he'd say something kind.

He walked toward us, hands in his pockets. People leaned in.

Sarah squeezed my arm. "He won’t lie. He can’t."

But then… he spoke. "I didn’t sleep with her," Jace said flatly. "I didn’t even know she went to this school until yesterday."

Gasps. Laughter. My world tilted.

"And honestly," he added, turning to me, "stop spreading lies. It’s pathetic. And you're gross."

Gross. It felt like the ground had opened under me. I stared down at my shoes, trying to keep the tears at bay.

.

.

.

Four days it has been, four days without me walking down the hallway, or the cafeteria without receiving cringe stares from people. And I could most likely guess why? Of course, everyone had seen the video about me and Jace. Plus, they was also a sticker of me on every locker for those who couldn't access their phones, with a pink text on it... Dashlingslut. It even became my nickname.

Soon, I stopped talking, skipped lunch, took the long way to every class, and my phone stayed off. I cried in the bathroom once, just once, but that was enough. That night, I stared at myself in the mirror and didn’t recognize the girl looking back.

I was done. Done being the joke, done letting Jace Weston ruin my life, so I packed my bags.

Don’t worry, I didn’t just run away. I had a plan. I told my mom I needed to leave, she didn't ask questions. She called my aunt in Paris and booked my ticket.

Three weeks later, I was there. And somehow, I got into a fashion school, on scholarship. I worked harder than I ever had in my life. I poured every pain, every humiliation, every sleepless night into fabric and design.

I stopped eating for comfort and started working everywhere, because revenge bodies don't build themselves. And little by little, Elsa-the-wallflower faded away. And someday, if Jace Weston ever sees me again… He'd beg to taste the girl he once called gross.