Chapter 2

Samantha's footsteps faltered for just a second.

Just one second. Then she walked away without looking back.

I made it back to the run-down apartment I rented near school and pulled out my first aid kit on autopilot. I cleaned and disinfected the gash on my forehead, hissing through my teeth as the alcohol hit the wound. The physical pain was nothing compared to what was going on inside my chest.

I'd come to this school hiding who I really was. I was a Jones, one of the wealthiest families around. I'd wanted to know what a normal life felt like, so I'd kept that part of myself buried.

When I met Samantha, struggling to get by but pushing through school anyway, I made her my best friend.

When she couldn't afford the hot meals in the cafeteria, I'd pile extra food onto my tray every day and pretend I couldn't finish it, sliding it over to her. When she couldn't pay for school materials, I'd made up a story about winning a scratch-off and covered it for her. When guys from outside school started giving her trouble, I'd scared them off myself.

I'd given her everything I had, and she'd thrown it away without a second thought.

Fine. Consider it two years of my life, wasted. We were done, and that was that.

I cried myself to sleep that night.

I woke up the next morning running a fever. I was dragging myself out of bed to find some medicine when my phone started going off like crazy on the nightstand. I picked it up.

A street interview video had gone viral. The title was written in bold red letters:

[Stop Campus Violence! Exposing the Disturbing Control Issues of a Female Bully at Westwood High!]

In the video, Samantha's eyes were red and swollen, her face the picture of someone who'd been through something awful. Wendy sat beside her, rubbing her back and handing her tissues.

The interviewer held out a microphone.

"We've heard there's a girl at your school with serious anger issues who attacks other students without provocation. Is that true?"

"It is." Samantha's voice broke. "Honestly, I used to feel completely trapped. Like I was living in a nightmare. The girl's name is Cassandra Jones, and she used to be my roommate. She doesn't just have anger problems. She's controlling in a really scary way.

"She wouldn't let me have any friends. Any time someone tried to get close to me, she'd lose it and attack them. She put people in the hospital. She used protecting me as an excuse. What she really wanted was to own me. She made me do her laundry and get her food every single day.

"I was scared all the time. I couldn't even sleep in peace. And yesterday, she put Wendy's friend in the hospital for no reason at all..."

Samantha broke down at that point, sobbing so hard she looked like she might pass out. Wendy stepped in smoothly, taking the microphone and turning to the camera with a calm, warm smile.

"Don't be afraid to speak up. Standing against bullying is everyone's responsibility. I'm not scared of what Cassandra might do to me. I just want Samantha to be free. I want her to actually enjoy being in school again."

The video ended on a freeze frame of Samantha throwing her arms around Wendy, tears streaming down her face.

My knuckles went white around my phone.

She'd flipped every single thing upside down.

Me doing her laundry became her being forced to wait on me. Me chasing off the girls who bullied her became me isolating her. And me taking a steel pipe to the head for her, that had somehow become proof that I was the violent one.

I opened the comments.

[Why is this psycho still walking around free? Does Westwood High even have a principal?]

[Poor Samantha. Getting targeted by a freak like that must've messed her up for life. Disgusting.]

[Wendy is literally an angel. That orphan Cassandra should just drop dead. Hope she gets hit by a car the second she steps outside.]

[I found Cassandra's account. Everyone come help me bury this psycho.]

Someone had taken my photo, edited it to look like a memorial picture, and pinned it to the top of the school's online forum. Others kept reposting it to keep it there.

I stared at Samantha's face on the screen, soft and sad and completely convincing.

Then I laughed. I don't know why, but I laughed.

And then tears started falling, mixing with the blood still seeping from the cut on my forehead, and I tasted both on my lips.

'Samantha, have you really thrown away even the most basic human decency just to suck up to Wendy? Just for the impossible dream of climbing the social ladder?'