Bias Campus Short Stories & Face Slapping Novels

The High-Ed Aptitude Test (HAT) was fast approaching. My father had reserved the entire hotel next to my exam venue so I could study in peace. While I was registering my accommodation with my school's HAT committee, I overheard Ashley, my roommate at the school dorm, giggling with her friends. "You know who has more money than IQ? Regina Fairfax. That's who. She's soft in both the head and the heart. If I tell her I'm worried about leaving her alone in the hotel, she'll immediately invite me to stay there too, no questions asked! "I've had it all planned out, girls. I'll be staying in the presidential suite for free, and I'll throw a party there! Talk about getting a return on my amazing social skills! "Now, any of you who can pay me 80 bucks can secure a spot at my fabulous party!" She was talking about me! How dare she?! I immediately called my father. "Dad, cancel the reservation. Shutting down the whole place isn't good for business. We should be making more money!"

Ten minutes before the university application deadline, my childhood sweetheart, Claudia McCarthy, and my best friend, Mike Barrett, teamed up to lock me in a bathroom. At first, I thought Claudia was planning some kind of surprise for me. But a second later, my phone buzzed with a notification: both my password and my application choices had been changed. Only two people knew that password: me and Claudia. Furious, I demanded an explanation. Claudia couldn't have cared less. "Tim, I lost a bet to Mike, so now I have to be his girlfriend for a year. I changed your application. Just apply to Kingsbridge University next year. I'll be waiting for you there." Her matter-of-fact tone left me ice-cold. Then came my best friend's snickering voice. "Tim, Claudia was under a lot of pressure senior year, and I took a lot of that off your plate. It wore me out. So think of this year as my compensation. I'll keep your spot warm for you, and in a year, I'll give Claudia back." Only then did I understand. While I'd been fighting for my future with Claudia, the two of them had been sneaking around behind my back. They'd even tampered with my application, all for the sake of some so-called bet. I screamed with everything I had, "Claudia, change my application back right now, or you'll regret it!" All I got in response was their mocking laughter. The countdown ran out, and the application portal closed. Claudia expected me to keep making a scene. Instead, I just looked at her calmly. What she didn't know was that the only reason Kingsbridge had accepted her was me. She was nothing more than a freebie bundled with my admission. Now that my application had been changed, I couldn't wait to see how a freebie was going to get into Kingsbridge.

After pulling an all-nighter to finish a group assignment, I wanted only one thing: sleep. I did not even get 10 minutes. My roommate, Ronda Jones, burst into the dorm, raging about class. She shouted into her headset and turned our room into a storm of insults and keyboard slams. When I quietly asked her to keep it down, she turned on me instead. Then the power went out, and a 5-dollar electricity bill became the excuse she had been waiting for. I refused to split it. That single decision set everything in motion.

My sister lied and accused me of cheating right in the middle of the college entrance exam, all to snatch my guaranteed spot in college. My results were voided, and I was banned from taking the exam for life. "I don't want her to stray from the straight and narrow…" My sister cried in front of the cameras, as if she were the victim here. Then, she took the acceptance letter from a famous college that should've been mine. She also stole my boyfriend and told everyone they were an official item. Eventually, she got her happily ever after. Meanwhile, I got into a car crash on my way to the precinct to clear my name and died a horrible death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the exam room.

Before we submitted our college applications, the popular girl in our class, the billionaire’s daughter, suddenly said she could get all of us into Harvard or Yale. “My parents donated several buildings to those schools. Getting you all admitted is nothing.” Most of my classmates’ college entrance exam scores were still a long way from those schools, but they believed her. They gave up submitting their own applications and counted on her to pull strings so they could get into college. In my last life, I realized her promise was unreliable. I immediately urged them not to give up on their applications, to keep a backup plan, and I called their parents one by one. But that infuriated the popular girl. She mocked me for being poor and said I did not understand how the upper class worked. She claimed I had ruined everyone’s future. My boyfriend also snapped at me for being jealous. “You’re just jealous that Lissy’s family is rich. You can’t stand the thought of all of us going to Harvard or Yale. So what if you have good grades? You could work your whole life and still never catch up to what her family built over three generations.” For the sake of our three years as classmates, I did not argue with them. But before the deadline, when I found out they still had not submitted their applications, I called the police and exposed the popular girl’s fake identity. The popular girl was condemned by everyone. In despair, she jumped into a river and killed herself. My classmates all said she deserved it and thanked me for saving their futures. But at our class farewell dinner, my boyfriend poisoned my drink, and the entire class watched coldly as I writhed in pain. “At worst, we would have lost our chance at college. Lissy lost her life!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the popular girl claimed she could pull strings for us.

On the first night of our graduation trip, Richard Clark, the class representative, suggests that we find our match via room numbers. "Let your luck decide your fate! You'll get to stay in the same room with your partner regardless of gender! How exciting is this?" Throughout my four-year college life, I've been in an underground relationship with Faye Lister for three years. No one knows about our relationship at all. I dig out a ball from the box and wait for my turn to get matched. When it's Faye's turn, she claims that her number is seven. That's when Richard raises his voice. "The other person who gets Room 7 is… Xavier Jensen!" Xavier, the guy whom Faye had once pursued in a grand fashion, shoots her a smile immediately. Everyone cheers on them, claiming that even God wants them to be together. I'm the only one who doesn't say anything. No one knows that I've heard Richard and Faye having a secretive conversation before the start of the game. "Find the ball with a circular bump. That's the mark I've specifically left for you and Xavier." As I watch Faye approach Xavier and arrange his collar with scarlet cheeks, I find myself smiling as well. It turns out that I've wasted three years waiting for Faye to announce our relationship. This time, I decide to be the one leaving this relationship.

Half an hour before I receive my degree certificate, Lionel Simmons, my boyfriend as well as the class president, tells me that my graduation will be getting delayed because I need to retake my exam on a major course. Meanwhile, Vivian Crosby, the campus belle who often ranks last in exams, is eligible to receive certifications on her courses. Lionel quickly shields Vivian from me while looking very unapologetic. "In this course, every class requires a certain quota when it comes to the retakes. Since Vivian has bad grades, there's no way she's passing the retake. That's why I submitted your name instead. "Unlike you, Vivian doesn't have excellent grades and a boyfriend who actually gives a damn about you. Even if your graduation gets delayed, it won't affect our future plans at all. Amelia, you should make some sacrifices for your fellow classmate's sake." After I strongly object against that decision, my classmates mock me for being petty and uncaring toward Vivian. Fine. Since they obviously lack empathy for me, I don't hesitate to call my uncle, who's a member of the university board as well as one of the invigilators of the final exams. "I got into the top three ranks of the final exams, and yet I can't graduate on time because I have to retake my final exam instead. Does this mean the remaining hundreds of students bribed you to not fail their exams instead? "I want everyone's graduations to get delayed alongside mine in half an hour, no matter what!"

The night before the college application deadline, my parents said they wanted to throw me a celebration dinner. I had a pretty good score on my SAT. However, the moment I reached the restaurant entrance, a few lines of text suddenly floated in front of my eyes. [Don't go in.] [Tonight at dinner, your parents and your guidance counselor are going to get your account verification code out of you.] [They're going to swap your application to a top out-of-state university for the local teachers' college, the one that locks you into teaching here after you graduate.] [Your counselor will log in from the school's computer lab and make it look like you confirmed it yourself.] [Once the admission results come out, your dad will tear up your ID and lock you in the house until you accept your fate.] [From then on, your paychecks will go toward your brother's downpayment first.] [You'll be stuck in this town forever.] I stood outside the building, chilled to the bone. A second later, my phone rang. It was Mom. "Callie, why aren't you up here yet? Mr. Ormsby said the application portal tends to lag tonight, so it's better to confirm early and be done with it."

My online boyfriend had been my sister's nemesis. He and my sister had been desk mates in high school, always competing for the top spot in their grade. He ranked first, while she ranked second. They could barely stand each other, yet they both ended up attending the same university in our city. Every time my sister came home for a break, she spent days complaining to me about him. This time, she came home with her suitcase and an unusually bright smile on her face. Mom teased her. "How come you did not mention your favorite nemesis this time? You seem to be in such a good mood. Do you have something going on?" My sister laughed and handed Mom a gold necklace. "Here. Your future son‑in‑law bought it for you." The moment I saw the necklace in Mom's hand, my heart skipped a beat. I pulled out my phone. My chat with Edward Jones was still there, our last conversation from 3 days earlier. He had asked me, "Which of these gold necklaces do you think looks best?" I had studied the pictures carefully before choosing one. It was the exact same necklace Mom held. My sister glanced at me and suddenly asked, "Suzanna, your final exam results are out, right? Have you decided which college you want to attend? You spend all day glued to that phone!" Then she turned to Mom. "Mom, if Suzanna is not sure what she wants, you and Dad need to pay a little more attention to her..." Mom had barely lifted a hand to wave her off when I spoke up. "I have decided. I want to go to Solstice City." My sister froze for a moment before saying, "Solstice City? That is more than 1,240 miles from home."

After finishing the SATs, my class organized a picnic by the river. Just as everyone was enjoying themselves, Graham Spencer, our class president, suddenly suggested we go for a swim. "Let's experience the thrill of swimming in the middle of roaring river." Several clueless classmates eagerly agreed. Startled, I rushed to stop them. "This stretch of the river used to be an illegal sand-mining site. The riverbed is riddled with deep pits, hidden currents, and whirlpools." Graham only sneered. "You're a swimming champion, yet you're acting like a wuss. Did you buy that championship?" Zara Valentine, the school beauty, raised her phone and started recording me. "Can you believe this? Our school's swimming champion is actually a total coward. What a joke." Fine. If they were all so eager to throw themselves into the river, I'd see their end.

One month before the college entrance exam, I ask my childhood friend, Nicholas Lund, about a test question I don't know how to answer. He doesn't even let me into the house. Instead, he casually sends me a link to a cheap online tutor. "I hired you an online tutor. It's only 20 bucks for the next 30 days." I am stunned for several beats, but a moment later, he sends me another message. "Marissa, do you know that everyone is saying you're like a piece of gum attached to my shoe? Stop bothering me with all these stupid questions. How are you going to bear the responsibility for disturbing my and Hails' revision time?" When I lift my head, I happen to spot the school belle, Hailey Lane, sitting at his desk. His jacket is draped over her shoulders as she munches on some apple slices he prepared for her. Instead of kicking up a fuss, I calmly tap on the link and add the tutor's contact number. "How do I solve this question?" The other party's response is immediate. "Do it systematically. First, take a look at the conditions. Don't rush it. I'll walk you through it step by step." Ten minutes later, I stare at the ridiculously detailed explanation filling my screen and fall into a thoughtful silence. How is it that a cheap online tutor was better at explaining how to solve a problem than our entire year's top student?

As a low-income student who's specifically recruited by the elite college this year, I can still feel my hands trembling as I clutch the letter that tells me I get to study for free. Not only are my tuition and miscellaneous fees waived, but I also get to receive 30 thousand dollars' worth of student grant per year. I even get to have free access to the leather seats inside the library, the equipment inside the gym, as well as the aerial garden on the roof. The best surprise for me has to be the cafeteria. All low-income students get a 50% discount on their meals, but the quality of their food doesn't decrease at all. Best beef is used in the steak dinners offered by the cafeteria, whereas a seafood platter showcases the entire huge lobster. Even the most basic mac and cheese meal has different types of freshly grated cheese baked into it. As I sit in the brightly lit classroom and look at the rich students around me, who wear custom-made uniforms and have branded watches latched around their wrists, all I have is one thought. I must be on good terms with them. But my seatmate, who's also a low-income student, isn't as thrilled as me. In fact, she just looks at the people around her with disdain in her eyes. After the first lesson, a rich student arrives at our table. He might not sound polite at all, but at least he's not putting on airs. "Do any of you have time to head over to the cafeteria and buy me breakfast?" I'm about to respond to him when a shrill voice booms out next to me. "You're so annoying! What, you think you rule the campus since you're rich? Had I known that this classroom is filled with useless scions like you who just waste their lives away on nothing, I wouldn't have enrolled in this college in the first place!"

When I touch someone else's personal belongings—things they have had direct contact with before—I can hear the items voicing their owner's thoughts. The day of my grandma's funeral, I clutch the emerald bracelet she wore for over 30 years and hear it shout, "The house mustn't go to Michael! He hit me!" Michael? That's my uncle's name, and right now, he's bawling his eyes out in front of Grandma's casket, seemingly grieving even harder than everyone else.

On the day the college entrance exam results are released, I rank first in the entire province. A top student from another school, Heather Cliffton, publicly reports me for cheating on the Englorian exam. She says, "Someone who's never scored above 145 points in Englorian could never have a higher total score than I do." My seatmate, Louis Henderson, steps forward as a witness. He says, "She copied my answer sheet during every exam." The Department of Education launches an investigation, and my admission to a top-tier university is put on hold. My mother cries all night. My father is nearly fired from his job. The entire internet brands me as a cheater. During a livestream, Heather chokes back tears and says, "I just want justice for myself." I am about to explain when she adds, "If the one who scores 145 points in Englorian can sit down and pass an Englorian college entrance exam paper on the spot, I'll kneel down and apologize." I smile. I'm a Canalian-track student. I don't even take the Englorian paper in the college entrance exams.

On the day we take our graduation photos before finals, I automatically move to stand next to Callum Rook, my childhood friend. A classmate starts teasing us. "Hey, hey, move over! Let the loving couple stand together!" I've heard jokes like that a million times, but I still blush because of the secret feelings I'm hiding. Callum doesn't say anything. However, when the photographer clicks the shutter, and everyone shouts "cheese", I hear a low, irritated voice ring out. "God, you're so annoying. Can't you just stay away from me?" My smile freezes. That's Callum's voice. My hearing is extra sharp, maybe because I was born with poor eyesight. There is no way I misheard. As soon as the photo is done, Callum turns around and heads straight back to the classroom. I stand there for a long time before finally heading inside. On my way past the wishing wall outside our classroom, I reach up and peel off the note I'd written—the one saying I want to go to the same university as Callum.

I have always had an almost pathological sense of paranoia. Ever since I was a child, I was convinced that the people around me were out to get me. Back in elementary school, when everyone was lining up for their student ID photos, I flatly refused to have mine taken. I insisted that the district office was going to use my picture for identity theft. The situation escalated so badly that the principal had to personally sit me down and spend half an hour trying to convince me otherwise. Then, there was the fingerprint registration system in middle school. The school required every student to submit their fingerprints to access the campus buildings. I was so terrified that someone would steal my biometric data that I literally rubbed the skin off all ten fingertips to make them unreadable. Even when my fingers were bleeding, I kept shouting that they were trying to steal my identity. I would rather climb over the school fence every day than cooperate. Every relative I had called me crazy. My parents were so fed up that they seriously considered having me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I did not care. I guarded my privacy with obsessive determination, gritting my teeth and holding my ground all the way up to the eve of the final exams. Then came the day before the exam. That afternoon, our homeroom teacher, Tracy Collins, walked into the classroom carrying a metal lockbox. A warm, motherly smile spread across her face as she set it down on the desk. "Everyone," she said, "to make sure nobody forgets their documents tomorrow, I'd like you to hand over your IDs and exam admission slips for safekeeping tonight." She patted the lockbox reassuringly. "Tomorrow morning, I'll personally return them to each of you outside the testing center. This way, there's absolutely nothing that can go wrong." The class was deeply moved by her thoughtfulness. Some students even looked close to tears as they eagerly pulled out their documents and lined up to hand them over. Everyone except me. My hand clamped down over my pocket so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Cold sweat poured down my back. A sharp alarm bell was ringing in my head. Trying not to attract attention, I fished out a spare flip phone from my bag, ducked beneath my desk, and dialed emergency services. As soon as the call connected, I lowered my voice and spoke into the receiver. "Hello. I'd like to report a crime. My name is Charles. "I believe a teacher at St. Alden High is working with an identity-fraud ring and is planning a large-scale operation tonight involving examination fraud and identity theft."

On the first day of classes, my boyfriend's childhood friend, Wendy, used my supplementary credit card to pay for everyone's tuition fee, successfully playing the role of a kind and beautiful heiress. During the creative writing competition, his childhood friend's submission was the same as mine. All my classmates pointed their fingers at me and confirmed that I had plagiarized her work. As the competition was livestreamed, the entire internet turned on me immediately and harassed me. People were condemning me as a thief everywhere I went. Meanwhile, Wendy managed to secure a graduate recommendation to Kingsbridge University, and she then blew up online as the rich and talented heroine of a power fantasy story. As I was on my way back home to try and figure things out after I was thrown out, one of Wendy's fans waiting outside the venue ran me down and crushed me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I had regressed to the time when Wendy wanted to pay everyone's tuition fee…

During the mandatory freshman orientation camp, my skin had flared up with a severe allergic reaction, so I didn't use the plastic washbasin the school handed out. Instead, I opened my suitcase and took out the custom silver basin I had brought from home. My roommate, Louisa Carter, immediately made a snide remark, drawling, "You're really something, huh? Kids from broke families like us are lucky to have any basin at all." I didn't bother responding. I simply pulled out my facial essence to do a cold compress, but she immediately rushed over, slapped the bottle out of my hand, and jabbed a finger at my face. "Bet you get tens of thousands a month for living expenses. You have a sugar daddy, don't you? Don't you feel guilty making your folks work their fingers to the bone back on the farm? People like you don't deserve to be at our school. I'm reporting you to the student counselor." I laughed in disbelief and slapped her. … The next morning, the family photo I'd left on my desk had been slashed to ribbons. Across the back, carved in ink, were the words: 'Daughter of a homewrecker. Go to hell.' I went straight to the police. While officers pulled the dorm security footage, our student counselor and the university president rushed in. The moment the president saw the man whose face had been cut apart in my photo, his legs nearly buckled. He almost dropped to his knees.

On the day of the SAT exam, my girlfriend, Heidi Moore, makes the entire class stay with her and wait for her childhood friend, Jeffrey Price, who's running late. But it's less than an hour before the exam starts. If they keep waiting for Jeffrey, they will definitely miss the exam. In my previous lifetime, I played my part as the class president by advising everyone to take the exam first. But all I received was their scolding. "You're just jealous that Jeffrey and Heidi are extremely close friends! That's why you want to ditch Jeffrey so that he can miss the exam, huh?" I could only stand in the pouring rain while begging my classmates relentlessly. Only then did everyone leave for the exam venue reluctantly. In the end, we were able to arrive at the exam venue one minute before the exam started. But after the exam was over, I was pushed off a building by Jeffrey, which caused my death. However, Heidi and the rest of my classmates gave the police their fake testimonies. "Finley caused Jeffrey to miss the exam. That's why he killed himself out of guilt!" Jeffrey even used the opportunity to sell his sob story and become a popular influencer. Mom tried to seek justice for me, only to get cyberbullied by the Internet users, who were blind to the truth. Dazed and disoriented, she drove off a cliff, and her body was nowhere to be found since then. Only after I died did I realize that this was just a part of Jeffrey's scheme. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Heidi tells the entire class to wait for Jeffrey before departing to the exam venue together. In this lifetime, I won't stop my ungrateful classmates from ruining their own lives.

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.