Campus Short Stories & Novels

On the last day to submit our college applications, my childhood sweetheart, Jose Hanson, changes my major from medicine to mortuary science. Meanwhile, he applies to the same college as the girl next door, Rachel Thorne. When I confront him, he answers casually, "I saw the diagnosis in your room. You have Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis." I freeze. Jose looks at me with disgust. "Vicky, your mom took me in 12 years ago. I've spent 12 years playing the role of your childhood sweetheart. Now, it's time for me to pursue my true love. As for you, you might as well start learning how to arrange your own funeral." But… I look at him holding hands with Rachel. That diagnosis isn't mine. It's his.

At one in the morning, I was alone in the research building, fighting for my life against my thesis. That was when I opened NearU and saw a viral anonymous post. My girlfriend loved the hair clip I bought her. The attached screenshot showed a girl’s side profile. It was blurred almost beyond recognition. But the blue enamel hair clip was clear. My hand went straight to my hair. Because that exact clip was holding my hair back. Two weeks ago, my anonymous boyfriend had helped me choose it. I had sent him that photo. And now his post showed he was only 300 feet away. I looked down the empty hallway. At this hour, only three places nearby still had lights on. My thesis adviser’s office. The graduate lounge. And the joint lab next door. Then my phone buzzed. Baby? Why did you go quiet? I stared at the message. For three months, I had been flirting with a man whose name I didn’t know and whose face I had never seen. Now he was somewhere in this building. Maybe behind one of those doors. Maybe watching the same hallway. Maybe close enough to hear me breathe. Then I saw the light under Dr. Ford’s office door. My stomach dropped. Because there was one thing worse than falling for a stranger online. Finding out he might be the professor who had just covered my thesis in red ink.

When my boyfriend told me he had failed the college entrance exams, he begged me to apply to a vocational college with him. I was about to say yes when a barrage of floating comments suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. [The male lead deserves an Oscar. Since when is 680 considered a bad score? He was literally touring Kingston University with the real heiress just moments ago.] [Don't fall for it! You're the top scorer in the entire state! He only wants to drag you down so the real heiress can shine.] [There's no point warning her. She's completely blinded by love. A provincial champion wasting her future at a vocational college... she'll end up abandoned by her family, framed into debt by the real heiress, forced to drop out, and stuck running a roadside stall for the rest of her life.] My hand froze midair. In an instant, all the blood drained from my body.

When I was nine, I was hit by the blast of an explosion while saving Simone Scott. From that day onward, I have to rely on hearing aids to get by. Overwhelmed with guilt, she suggests we get engaged and swears to me with teary eyes, "Justin, I'll take care of you for the rest of my life." But at 18 years old, to satisfy a dare from the school heartthrob, she rips off my hearing aid and humiliates me in front of him and our classmates. Disgust fills her voice as she says, "You're nothing but a burden. I've been sick of you for a long time. I wish you'd died back then instead of being saved." I clutch the hearing recovery report in my hand and say nothing. After that, I quietly change my college applications, bring my parents with me, and formally call off the engagement. Simone, this is where our paths split. There is no reason for us to ever see each other again.

The night before the study abroad application deadline, the class group chat blew up. [Oh my God, Ryan, why did you switch your application to the UK? Weren’t you supposed to go to France with Emma Bennett?] Ryan Hawthorne replied like it was nothing. [Yeah, I changed it. She has my login anyway.] [Once she sees it, she’ll switch too. She always follows me around. She can’t function without me.] I stood there with my phone in my hand, my mind going completely blank. Scattered across the floor, half tucked between my open suitcases, was the gift I had prepared especially for Ryan. I left the group chat, threw the gift away, and never opened the application portal again. What he did not know was this. He could give up the future we were supposed to share for Sophie Quinn. And I could give him up too. I could choose my own future without ever looking back. All those late nights, all those years of work, had never been only for him.

On the day the SAT scores were released, I clutched my phone and waited anxiously for forty minutes. “I got a 1550! Oh, Bree got a 1540! We’re both going to Preston Medical University!” my twin brother Michael Ashby shouted. I was about to say I could go too, but my girlfriend, Brielle Willow, had already grabbed Michael’s hand and dashed out the door. Brielle only remembered me during the celebration. “Oh, Fin, Preston Community College is right next to the medical school. Why don’t you just apply to their nursing program? That way, the three of us could still hang out together.” Michael chuckled and lightly patted my head. “Male nurses are in demand. Later on, when goofball Bree and I are doctors, you can assist us as our nurse. It’s the perfect combo!” They complemented each other perfectly like two halves of a whole. I did not belong there. For years, I had been running myself into the ground trying to keep up. They were always miles ahead, and I could only watch from behind. For once, I chose not to chase after them any longer.

The whole school knows me as the vapid school belle who's nothing but a pretty face. During homeroom, I'm busy curling my bangs. Between classes, I'm busy reapplying sunscreen. If my uniform has even one wrinkle, I refuse to wear it. If my backpack feels too heavy, I refuse to carry it. Even during monthly exams, I apply lip gloss first, then wait for the final bell to turn in a blank paper. The top student in our grade, Sasha Lane, can't stand me. She often mocks, "Being pretty does nothing for you if you never apply yourself in your studies. On a real exam, you'd probably worry more about fixing your makeup than reading the questions." Then the National Scholastic League kicks off, and the school's foundation gives us an ultimatum. My high school, Greenwood High School, has come in second place in the league ten years in a row. If we don't win the championship this time, the foundation will pull out, and all 2,000 students will be out of a school. The catch is, the league requires every school's final team member to be picked at random. And this time, they pick me. The moment word gets out, the students at the neighboring Brookstone High School lose it. "They're actually sending the airhead who turns in blank tests? Greenwood might as well shut down now." In the final round, Brookstone takes nine questions in a row. Greenwood's three strongest competitors are eliminated one after another. Sasha fills three pages of scratch work and still can't crack the final ten challenge problems. There are only 30 seconds to go. The principal grips the school's charter so tightly that his knuckles have gone white, and the teachers look ready to panic. Brookstone's team captain can't resist taking a shot. "Greenwood still has a beauty queen, right? Send her up. At least you'll lose with a pretty face onstage." The whole auditorium bursts into laughter. The noise gives me a headache, so I put down my lip gloss, take the buzzer, and tap in a few answers. A second later, the system starts chiming nonstop. The scoreboard goes wild, and the lights for all ten questions turn green. We get a perfect score.

After the holiday, the student council president assigns me the task of mentoring a freshman named Mona Leach. I text her to discuss the task at hand, but she ignores my messages. When she finally replies to me, her words are scathing. "I'm a freshman, but that doesn't mean you can harass me just because you're my senior. I have a boyfriend." Just as I'm wondering how she even got the idea that I'm interested in her, I see her complaining in the student council group chat. She writes, "Just because he's a senior doesn't mean he can harass a freshman. I already told him I have a boyfriend, but he keeps bothering me. I barely started my freshman year, and I have to deal with such disgusting behavior. This is going to traumatize me." What's this about me harassing her? My family has billions in assets that I'll inherit sooner or later. Heiresses from other wealthy families are lining up to marry me. Why would I ever need to harass her?

On the day of the SAT exam, my girlfriend’s childhood friend, Benedict Casper, forgot his admission ticket at home. She insisted on retrieving it for him, but I begged her not to go. In the end, Benedict missed his final chance for taking the exam and, overwhelmed by despair, he jumped to his death. Years later, my girlfriend, Ella Simpson, and I graduated from Whitmore Institute of Technology, landed high-paying jobs, and built a picture-perfect marriage. But on the anniversary of Benedict’s death, she stabbed me repeatedly, her voice trembling with rage, “You killed him. If I’d gotten his admission ticket, he would’ve never jumped.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the exams. Ella’s frantic voice rang in my ears, “I have to go back, Dominic. I need to get Benedict’s ticket!” This time, I smiled and said, “Go ahead. Be careful on the way.”

On the fifth day after I get born into this world, my biological mother chooses to abandon me. But I'm not sure what she's thinking when she's picking out the location, for she actually abandons me at the entrance of the Bianco family. When the beautiful women of the family notice me, they are quick to frown. "Why don't we take him in?" Since then, I have 109 sisters in my family. At home, I'm the bratty ruler among my sisters. In order not to cause them any trouble, I've been leading a normal life for more than a dozen years. That is, until I've encountered bullying in high school. Giovanni Rossi, a rich student, has me cornered in the washroom with his lackeys flanking him. Not only do they dump cold water on me and tear my clothes off me, but they also use their phones to take pictures of my face. "What are you glaring at, huh? You're just a low-income student, so why are you still putting on airs around us? As if a piece of trash like you can ever get into college!" But since the beating I've received is far too brutal, so I holler at the top of my lungs as I yank Giovanni and jump off the third floor with him. When I wake up, Marcella Greco, the school's nurse, berates me angrily. "All Giovanni did is beat you up, and yet you're already planning to kill him, huh? Shouldn't you be reflecting on yourself when others scold and lay a finger on you? How dare you plot revenge against him instead! "I want you to summon your guardian here right away! If you can't do that by today, you can forget about leaving!" All of my hair stands on end as soon as I hear the command. Weakly, I ask, "Are you sure you want to meet my guardians, Ms. Greco?"

In my previous life, Jackson Miller, a poor student, framed me and drove away the three women who had once cared for me. Meryl Duncan, the school beauty, who has always been close to me, stands firmly in front of Jackson, protecting him without hesitation. Kara Jensen, who has a crush on me, along with the female professor, Sally Robinson, who has always treated me with warmth, also believes Jackson's lies. They demand that I kneel and apologize to him. No matter how much I try to explain, no one believes me. In the end, they lock me inside a classroom to reflect on my mistakes. Later, someone pushes me off the building and kills me. Fate gives me a second chance. I'm reborn. This time, whenever I see them, I choose to walk away. Yet the moment they learn that I have applied for an international exchange program and am leaving the country, the three women who have abandoned me are ruffled.

On graduation photo day, my boyfriend, Ethan Jones, takes more than 200 photos of Chloe Lloyd, the prettiest girl in our class. As president of the photography club, he knows better than anyone how to find the most flattering angles. Chloe stands beneath a tree and smiles at him. "Are you sure this isn't too much trouble?" Ethan looks down and flips through the photos on his camera. "Not at all. You look good no matter how I photograph you," he says gently. When my turn comes, I clutch the hem of my skirt and walk over. Ethan casually presses the shutter twice. "Done." I stare at him. "That's it?" He frowns at me. "You never look good in pictures anyway. Don't hold everyone else up." I look at the two photos on his camera. My eyes are closed in one, and half my face is hidden in the tree's shadow in the other. I ask him to take a few more, but instead, he puts up a post on the campus forum. "Photographer wanted. 20 dollars to snap a few graduation photos of my girlfriend." Half an hour later, I receive a private message from an unfamiliar profile. I send over my location, then say quietly, "Just so you know, I'm not photogenic." The reply comes almost immediately. "Your photographer didn't know how to work with you." After the shoot, he sends me the unedited photos. I'm stunned when I see the photos. I never knew I could look this good on camera. Even crazier, the photographer who took the job for 20 dollars seems to know what he's doing better than the president of the photography club.

My boyfriend Noah Carter and I had a plan: turn our college's fourteen-day outdoor orientation into a fourteen-episode documentary series about us. For the eleventh time, Noah left me alone on the training field. His childhood friend Claire Moore had called him in tears, saying she'd been vomiting and was lying in the camp clinic alone and scared. Waiting for him to come back, I missed the camp's only sunset team drill and the closing long take I'd spent two weeks preparing. That evening, he sent me a photo. Claire sat in a dessert shop outside camp, a smoothie and a slice of strawberry cake in front of her, cheeks pink and looking happier than anyone else in the place. Noah texted back: "The nurse said it's just stomach cramps. Relaxing will help her recover faster. I took her out for some air. Don't overthink it." Before, I would have asked when he was coming back. This time, I crossed "Couples Finale" off the Day Fourteen script and replaced it with two words. "Just me." The next day, he came rushing over to tell me Claire had a fever. I set up the camera for a solo shot without even looking up. "Noah, you don't have to report to me every time. From now on, where you go and who you choose to be with have nothing to do with me." He finally panicked. What he didn't know was that that night, I hadn't just canceled our orientation series. I'd scrapped every plan I'd ever made for a life with him.

I became the ultimate simp for Shannon Seay, the school's notorious flirt, and everyone assumed I was head over heels for her. When she skipped classes to pick fights or chase thrills, I'd copy notes and homework for her. When she tangled in ambiguous flings with other guys, I'd provide alibis to cover her tracks. For three grueling years, I poured my heart and soul into transforming her into an academic star, securing her spot at a top university. But right before orientation, she dumped me. Towering over me, she declared, "I know you've had a crush on me forever, but you're all books and no spark. Compared to Hunter, you're too rigid. We're done. I'm with him now." The crowd held its breath, anticipating my meltdown. I peeked at my phone, confirming a $50-million transfer, and replied with genuine nonchalance, "Alright, congrats." No one knew my unwavering devotion was purely because her father had paid handsomely for it. Now that the pay had been secured, it was time for me to vanish.

The results of the arts entrance exam have been released. All seven colleges that my best friend, Nicole Porter, applied to have rejected her. If she wants to get into college, she'll have to work hard on her general admission exams. So, I seek out my boyfriend, Preston Nolin, who's the top of our year, and ask him to tutor Nicole. However, Preston, who has always been mild-tempered, seems extremely reluctant to do so. "Fi, you've helped Nicole out far too many times over the past few years. When she couldn't pay her school fees, you were the one who paid them for her using the prize money you won from the competitions. "When Nicole's sexist parents caused a ruckus at school, you were the one who called the police on them. But because of that, her family got their revenge on you and almost left you blind in your left eye. "Now, Nicole can't even get into any of the seven colleges she applied to. Since she's not book-smart, she should just drop out of high school and find a job. This outcome is the best for everyone involved." Preston and I have been in a relationship for three years. Yet, this is my first time getting mad at him. "Nikki is my best friend as well as the most important person in my life! You're not allowed to badmouth her like this! Since you don't want to help her at all, then we might as well break up!" In order to avoid breaking up with me, Preston has no choice but to comply. Later on, Nicole's grades keep improving by leaps and bounds. I've also worked hard in my studies, resulting in me getting pretty decent grades in my College Entrance Examination. In fact, I've hit the threshold where I can attend one of the most prestigious colleges in the state with Preston. But when there's barely a minute left before the deadline is up, Nicole changes my dream college to the top college in the country, one that I'm definitely not qualified for. As for Preston, he just watches Nicole tamper with my application without showing any intention of stopping her.

I saw my college roommate send a voice message into a group chat. I watched his screen as our four other roommates responded. However, there were no notifications on my phone. That was when I realized the five of them had created a group without me. In that group, they complained about me being a dumb rich kid, cursed my mom for being a homewrecker, and secretly took nude photographs of me. They were even planning to drug me and give me to a older rich woman for her entertainment. I covered all their meals, drinks, and living expenses, yet they dared to betray me? Fine. I would show them the true rage of a trust fund kid!

After being reborn, I cut off every line of contact with Maxwell Sutton. He chooses Elmshore University, so I change my application to Stonewick University instead. My goal is to stay far away from him and never cross paths again. When he comes back to the country for holidays and tries to meet up, I fly abroad. I block him on social media and stop replying to his emails. The moment he joins the same company as me, I hand in my resignation. I don't even want to see him from a distance. In my previous life, I was obsessed with him for 20 years, and he betrayed me for 20 years. I was diagnosed with a terminal illness in my 30s. While I took my last breath, Maxwell was busy planning a wedding with his first love. The daughter we raised adjusted his suit like the perfect child, while I died alone in a hospital room. And now, I refuse to live that ridiculous life again.

My roommate is the kind of person who has to get to the bottom of everything and doesn't stop asking questions until she's satisfied. One night, while I'm sound asleep, she suddenly stands by my bed and calls my name, "Melissa, are you asleep?" Having been awakened by her, I shoot her an annoyed glare, but she just says, "See? You weren't really asleep. Otherwise, how could you have answered me?" One day, she decides to skip class. Thinking that I could help by signing her in on my phone, I do just that. However, near the end of the lecture, she suddenly bursts into the room and asks the professor, "I wasn't here today, so why does it show I was marked present? Is the system down?" The professor traces it back to me, fails me on the spot, and makes me retake the class. Later on, I join a speech contest. My roommate stands up in front of everyone and asks why my speech sounded exactly like her ideas. I get disqualified, lose my scholarship, and am labeled a plagiarist. Devastated, I climb onto the rooftop late at night. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the night when my roommate first asked if I was asleep.

At the university awards ceremony, the campus belle, Vanessa Byer, puts the bank transfers I've received from the four Sterling brothers on full display, totaling eight million dollars in just one year. The entire auditorium erupts. She hangs a sign reading "Campus Gold Digger of the Year" around my neck, then has her friends scatter fake money across the floor and throw a dog leash at me. "You love money so much, don't you? Get on your knees and crawl like a dog. Whatever you manage to pick up, I'll have the Sterlings pay you that much." I don't budge. Vanessa clips the leash to the collar around my neck and kicks me in the back of the knee. "Who are you trying to fool with that innocent act? I bet you spend plenty of time on your knees when you're earning money in the Sterling brothers' beds." She grinds her heel into my hand and waves her phone in my face with a smug smile. "I've already sent Mr. Sterling a list of every dollar you've taken. Once he gets here, we'll see if a leech like you can even walk out of this place on your own two feet." I stare at the total on the big screen and rub my forehead. Hold on. Those four brats have only given me eight million dollars between them all year. If Gary Sterling finds out, I have a feeling they'll be the ones getting an earful.

Marie Hail had been groomed since childhood to be the perfect good girl. Every aspect of her life was tightly controlled. Her parents approved the colors she wore, forbade her from wearing skirts above the knee, and insisted she take small bites and chew each mouthful thoroughly. She was little more than a marionette, with her parents pulling the strings and dictating her every move. However, everything began to change when she turned eighteen and met Rylan Stafford, a boy who burst into her carefully controlled world like a blazing sun. Rylan had striking features, bright, lively eyes, and a wild, uninhibited laugh. More importantly, he was everything Marie had never dared to be. He took her on reckless motorcycle rides to the beach and drove her across the mountains to watch meteor showers. He even gave her a tattoo, a symbol of freedom inked onto her back. Through him, Marie discovered a world beyond the suffocating rules that had governed her life. As he encouraged her to challenge every restriction holding her back, she gradually found the courage to break free and embrace a passion she'd never known. Rylan was a living flame, and Marie willingly let herself be consumed by him. One day, he asked, "Princess, how about we turn in blank exam papers together during finals?"