Plot Twists Campus 短篇故事與 Face Slapping 小說

My roommate Sue Lynd had gotten addicted to the tiramisu that went viral lately, and always brought a box back to our room every evening. She always kept telling us how smooth and sweet it tasted, but I never cared for it, until the day before the announcement of postgraduate admissions. I was reviewing past exam papers when I saw the lines scribbled on the sheet. [Your roommate Sue Lynd will ask you to get her tiramisu tonight, and then she will leave the room in a hurry.] [The next day, the cops will arrest you for premeditated bodily harm, and you will be exposed on the internet for poisoning your roommate, drawing public outrage.] [You will miss your postgraduate admission interview, after which that spot falls to Sue.] [The cyberviolence won't stop, with even your parents losing their livelihoods, while you die from mental breakdown and severe depression.] I threw the sheet aside—must be seeing things since my stress had been building up. However, as evening arrived, Sue entered the room, asking in her melodious voice, "Can you get me tiramisu, Zoe?" My brain short-circuited for a moment—the scribble was actually prophetic?! As Sue smiled sweetly and leaned close, I felt the creeps because the most important part of those scribbles still weighed heavily on my mind: [You will miss your postgraduate admission interview, after which that spot falls to Sue.] She wants to destroy my life over a spot at postgraduate admission? My fingers clenched around my pen, and I replied, "Sorry. Can't do."

An hour before the SATs, our homeroom teacher suddenly had a medical emergency. Before he was rushed away, he handed the folder containing everyone's admission slips to Leo Jordan—the notorious, pretty-boy troublemaker at school. Thirty minutes before check-in closed, he still hadn't shown up. By then, the rest of us were standing outside the exam center, completely freaking out. Without that folder, none of us could get in. I rang his phone until he finally picked up. I begged him to hurry and bring the folder over. Everyone was still waiting for him outside the exam center, after all. He scoffed on the other end. "Just because you're at the top of the class doesn't mean you get to boss me around. I'm getting tattooed right now, and I'm not leaving until it's done." I nearly lost my mind. There was no time to argue. I grabbed a few guys from our class, and we ran nearly two miles to the tattoo store. By the time we got there, the artist was finally finishing the last bit of color on the huge dragon covering Leo's back. I thought, 'Thank God. We can finally grab the folder and go.' Just then, Leo stood up. He unbuckled his belt and yanked his pants down, revealing his hairy legs. "What's the rush?" he said. "We haven't even started on my legs yet." He turned back to the tattoo artist nonchalantly. "Okay, the dragon and tiger are done. The legs are next. Put Bugs Bunny on one leg and Lola Bunny on the other. They're my favorite couple."

On the seventh day of freshman orientation, I ran into the cafeteria like I was running the hundred-meter dash, desperate to get my favorite grilled sausage. Instead, I crashed straight into my childhood friend's embrace. The idiot was shirtless, and his huge pecs smacked me right in the face and the impact knocked me onto my butt. In the seconds I lost, the grilled sausage was almost gone. I almost fell apart. Seven days, and I had only managed to eat them once. My childhood friend waved a plate of grilled sausages in my face, then spat on it. "Yup, no. Not giving you any." Furious, I slapped his hand away. "Stay away from me. I get dizzy around big pecs." My childhood friend instantly lost it. "I'm still better than that useless fiance of yours!"

After the Ritualist declared that Amber would not live past 18, I, a perfectly healthy girl, became the Misfortune Vessel. When Amber broke a leg, my left leg was crippled. When Amber tried to kill herself with shards of glass, the tendons in my hand were severed. I could no longer hold a pen. From childhood to the present, every wound meant for Amber landed on my body. She never stopped testing how far she could go. Skydiving from two miles up. Chasing sharks in deep water. Survival expeditions to the extreme North. Every choice courted death. I cried. I screamed that it hurt. My brothers refused to allow it. "Enough already. It's just a small injury. How could it hurt that much? You're too delicate." "If it hurts, then endure it." So I endured until the day I turned 18. That was when the Shared-Sense System found me. I enabled family sharing, and every single one of them went insane.

The day we submitted our college applications, the school beauty, Hayley Law, suggested we all go rafting to unwind. Every single person in class raised their hand in agreement. In my previous life, as the class monitor, I did everything I could to stop them. Wild rafting was far too dangerous. Without any safety measures in place, accidents could easily happen. In the end, everyone made it back safely and got into the colleges they wanted. But before the semester even started, news came that Hayley had gone rafting alone, slipped into the water, and drowned. When Terry Vargas, my boyfriend and the most popular guy in school, heard what happened, he took the lead in organizing a memorial at sea. Then, when the waves were at their worst, he shoved me into the ocean. Later, when the police questioned them, they all told the same story as if they had planned it. "Katrina insisted on a sea burial for Hayley. During the storm, she got swept away by the waves and disappeared." They even produced fake evidence to clear Terry's name. My parents were shattered. They went to Terry again and again, desperate for the truth, but he had them set up and locked away in a mental institution, where they were tormented to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Hayley first suggested the rafting trip. I stood there quietly, watching my classmates pile into the bus she had rented, heading off to that same reckless trip. This time, I would just look out for myself.

I had worshipped my older sister, Sophie Lane, ever since I was little. Growing up, my greatest happiness was serving her drinks, carrying her bags, and picking up her meals. After Sophie was accepted into Central University, I immediately got my SAT and skipped a grade so I could get into the same university. On the day Sophie moved into the university, she entered the dorm room with eight bodyguards. Our roommates call her "The One Queen!" Meanwhile, I was making her bed. Only Viola Lynch gave me a knowing look and teased me. "You aren't her roommate at all, are you? You're clearly her personal maid." I merely smiled without answering. That day, Sophie casually tossed me the new Chanel purse she had bought. "This color suits you. Use it." When I took the purse with a grin, Viola happened to walk past the doorway. The weekend Sophie went abroad on vacation, Viola and I were the only ones left in the dorm. "Eve, do you know what everyone in class calls you behind your back? Sophie's pet." The next day, my boyfriend Aaron Sanders, the campus heartthrob, asked me to meet him at the track field. Viola stood beside him with red eyes. When he saw me, he frowned deeply. "Eve, can you stop being so pathetic? You became someone's pet over a single purse? Viola's family might be poor but even she has more dignity than you." Viola tugged at his sleeve and whispered. "Aaron, don't say that about her. I'm not worth it." I looked at them holding hands and suddenly chuckled. Wait. For real. Had no one noticed that Sophie and I shared the same last name?

During freshman boot camp, my roommate covered herself from head to toe in her homemade sunscreen every day. It made her skin fair and soft, and made her smell so sweet that she drew the attention of countless young men. Even my rich boyfriend led the campaign to crown her campus beauty queen. But only I knew the fragrance she added to her sunscreen was toxic. It would make her skin rot if she used it for a long time. I said nothing. Instead, I quietly applied to switch dorms. In my last life, I had warned her out of kindness. She cried in front of everyone and said I was trying to isolate her. All the young men called me jealous. My boyfriend broke up with me in anger, then pursued her instead. It didn't take long for my roommate's skin to really start rotting, and I rushed to apply the salve made from an old family recipe. The wounds healed, but her skin turned dark and rough. She went from campus beauty queen to campus joke overnight. My boyfriend dumped her, and the other young men avoided her like the plague. She blamed everything on my jealousy. On the day she was forced to withdraw from university, she tied me up on the top floor of a university building. Then she poured a bucket of sulfuric acid over my head. "It's all because of your accursed salve that everyone's laughing at me! You ruined my chance to marry into a rich family!" I died from the torment. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the first day of my university's freshman boot camp.

I suffered from a skin condition. I scratched myself in the library, and millions of netizens spammed my private inbox. Only then did I find out that a girl accused me of harassing her. I took out my diagnostic report to defend my innocence, but the girl cried pitifully. “You really know how to make an excuse for yourself! How could someone innocent like me frame you?” Even my elder brother spoke up for her! “Why would she frame you of all people? Can’t you take a look at yourself?” I could not bear the cyberbullying, and I died from a sudden heart attack the day before the court hearing. My grandfather could not accept my death, and he collapsed into a coma. My parents cut off ties with my brother before they committed suicide at home. Meanwhile, the girl did not just successfully make her way into graduate school, but she also dug open my grave and used my ashes to make fireworks. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day when she had asked me to reserve a seat in the library.

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."

During college, Cindy Crammer brought over two sets of breakfasts every day. One was for me, and the other was for my roommate and best friend, Mark Jefferson. The breakfast she brought me never changed. It was always just sandwiches and oatmeal. Mark's breakfast, on the other hand, always had a perfect balance of meat and vegetables, and she never repeated the same meal twice. Even for my birthday, the gifts she prepared came in two sets. My birthday gift was always four simple greeting cards. Mark got concert tickets, a handmade rhinestone photo mosaic, a custom-made suit, and a pinky ring. When it came time for our graduation trip, the three of us arrived at the train station together. Mark and Cindy scanned their documents and passed through without any trouble, but I was stopped outside. Cindy slapped her forehead in frustration and smiled at me apologetically. "I only remembered to book Mark's ticket. I forgot yours. "We've already made it through. I don't want to waste the money. I'll take you on a trip for two next time." Mark patted his chest and made a promise to me. "Don't worry, Jason. I'll take good care of Cindy for you." I watched their backs as they walked away side by side, laughing and chatting. I let out a bitter chuckle. I didn't want to keep lying to myself anymore. I turned around and bought a ticket home. "Dad, you said I had to get married right after graduation. I agree! "Remember the referral I made for an intern named Cindy? Cancel it!"

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!"

In my previous life, I practically dragged my useless childhood sweetheart to Harvard with me. My academic record was top-notch, and I spent three years tutoring him. I asked my father to donate a library to Harvard University, ensuring that they would extend an additional offer of admission to Felix. Finally—when he rejected the offer in favor of taking a gap year to go work in Australia with the girl he was infatuated with—I raised such a massive scene that I ultimately forced him to go to Harvard with me. After graduation, we got married. The natural ending. He built a tech empire and made me the wife of the richest man in the country. One regret. He died too young. Didn't leave me a single word at the end. Just went. And I — I inherited his billions, and lived comfortably all the way to eighty-eight. But when I died, I saw his soul. His eyes were blood-red. "You forced me onto this path. You took me from the only woman I ever loved. I died with regret. Pray we never meet again in the next life." ...What the fuck? He'd been in that much pain? And I was the only one — happily riding it out? Captions drifted across my vision. [Lmao — how thick is this side character's skin?] [Male lead dies young in agony, she breezes through to 88 as the richest widow in the country.] [The girl he actually loved was the one who flunked her SATs and ran off backpacking, hello???] [They both died young, missed each other, and the side character had the time of her life.] Even I felt bad. When I opened my eyes, I was back — standing in that basement he'd sworn would be his life of freedom, on the day he was supposed to reject his Harvard offer. This time, I am not stopping him from going to Australia.

My SAT scores are in, and with a 1590, I'm number one in the whole city. I'm over the moon and rush to apply to the elite universities my score qualifies me for. But the moment I hit submit, the only school on my application is Fernbrook Vocational School, with a major in excavator operation. I have no idea what's going on. I figure my eyes are playing tricks on me and that I've picked the wrong school, so I withdraw the application right away and fill it out again. This time, just to be safe, I ask my parents—both graduates of top universities—to look it over with me. Once the whole family confirms that everything is correct, I click submit again. The very next second, my application shows nothing but the excavator operation major at Fernbrook Vocational School. We're all stunned. We call the help line right away, but they tell us the application system is working perfectly fine. With only one chance left, we pay a fortune to the city's most reputable admissions consulting firm to redo my application. We make sure there's nothing wrong with the system, and everyone checks the application over and over. Then I hit submit one more time. But when the page refreshes, my application still only shows the excavator operation major at Fernbrook Vocational School. With ten years of hard work going down the drain right before my eyes, I fall apart completely and end up jumping off a building. Even as I die, I can't understand why I can only apply to Fernbrook Vocational School with a score of 1590. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day I fill out my college applications.

The college entrance exam was finally over, and our class gathered for a celebratory dinner when our homeroom teacher, Mr. Daniel Sanford, received an unexpected phone call. After hanging up, his expression turned grave. "A student in our class submitted blank answer sheets for every single subject." The room erupted in speculation as everyone tried to figure out who it could be. Then, to everyone's shock, the class president, Jayla West, approached me with tears in her eyes, apologizing over and over. She explained that one of the pencils she'd purchased for the class had been defective. Three hours after use, every mark it made would disappear—and by sheer bad luck, that pencil had ended up in my hands. In other words, I was the student who'd supposedly turned in a blank exam paper. Before I could say a word, my childhood friend and the school's top student, Samuel Ashley, stepped protectively in front of Jayla. "Ellie, Jayla didn't do it on purpose. It was an honest mistake. You're smart enough that even if you have to take the exam again, you'll still get into college. Stop blaming her." As I stared at the unquestioning way he defended another girl, a pang of sadness and bitterness shot through me. What Samuel had forgotten was that just before the exam began, we had swapped pencils.

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.

During the weekend, while I'm working part-time at a coffee shop, a sudden spell of low blood sugar causes me to pass out. The shop owner, Malcolm Heywood, hands me a coffee that's worth 5 dollars and gently reminds me not to push myself so hard. But Brooke Rulin, the class queen bee, takes a photo of me holding that coffee and posts it in the class group chat. [Wow! Look at Patty, who's on the college's financial aid list, leisurely sipping coffee at a coffee shop! Even I wouldn't dare to set foot inside a place like that. I can't believe I've seen her here every single day this past month.] Instantly, the group chat explodes. [No way! She's pretending to be poor to scam financial aid!] [How dare she? She took a spot meant for someone who actually needs the money!] [Revoke her financial aid! Make her pay every penny back!] Even my academic advisor, Tanner Rickshaw, sends me a private message. [Patty, this is atrocious behavior! You'd better explain yourself!] I stare at the coffee in my hand, completely dumbfounded. This cup of coffee is just a freebie from my boss, all because I have low blood sugar!

At 11:00 pm, my roommate, Lily Carter, clutches her stomach and begs me to cover for her during the nightly dorm inspection. "Jamie, my cramps are killing me. Just mark my attendance record so I can run to a clinic and get some medicine." I'm about to check off her name when blood-red comments suddenly flash across my vision. "Idiot! Check your wallet. She already stole your driver's license." "She's sneaking out to meet Mr. Miller at a hotel, and they're checking in under your name!" "Tomorrow morning, his furious wife is going to storm onto campus and accuse you of sleeping with her husband in front of everyone!" When Lily sees me hesitate, her eyes fill with tears. "We're going to be roommates for the next four years. You seriously can't do this one little thing for me?" I close the attendance sheet and look her straight in the eye. "If you're really in that much pain, I'll call an ambulance." I pause and add, "Or I can call Ms. Dawson right now and have her take you to the hospital herself."

On the day the college entrance exam results are released, I clutch my phone and wait anxiously for 40 minutes. When I see that I've scored 1580, I'm just about to shout in excitement when my sister, Rose Ward, screams and throws herself into my boyfriend, Shane Hudson's arms. "I got 1400! And you got 1450! Shane, we can both apply to Johnsburg Medical University!" I try to tell them that I can also join them, but Shane has already grabbed Rose and ran out the door with her. It isn't until the celebration party that Shane finally remembers me. "Oh, Lily. Johnsburg Vocational School is right next to the medical university. Why don't you apply for nursing there? Then the three of us can still get together," Rose says. She smiles and lightly taps me on the head. "Shane and I will be doctors, and you can be our nurse and help us out. We'd make the perfect team!" They are a perfect match, a couple made for each other. They are two jigsaw pieces that fit perfectly together, leaving no room for a third. I have spent so long chasing after them that all I ever see is them disappearing into the distance. But this time, I decide not to do so anymore.

After I secured early admission to one of the country's most prestigious universities, my old high school invited me back to sit for the State Scholars Exam and compete for the top statewide score. But just ten minutes into the math paper, the proctor out of nowhere accused me of cheating. "Everyone else starts with the multiple-choice section. You went straight for the proofs. Were you planning to copy someone else's answers later?" Before I could explain a single word, he dragged me into the boys' restroom. Not only was I humiliated and forced to strip, I also had to let him inspect me over and over again to confirm that I had no cheating devices on my body. After I returned to the exam room, I decided it was better not to cause more trouble, so I started from the multiple-choice section like everyone else. But less than five minutes after I sat down, he yanked me up again. "This is even more fake. You didn't even take time to read or think through the questions before writing down the options. If that isn't cheating, what is?" "I suspect you knew the answers in advance. I'm reporting this to the exam board right now and having your exam qualification revoked!"

I got into an elite college with my boyfriend, Philip Jewitt—and tossed my acceptance letter in the trash. His mom was dying. He stood in front of me, eyes red. "Stella, she doesn't have time... If she finds out I dropped out to pay for her treatment, it'll destroy her. Please. Help me. I swear I'll treat you right for the rest of my life." Philip got four perfect years on campus. I scraped by, working three jobs. I paid his tuition. Covered his mom's bills. After graduation, he needed startup money. I convinced my parents to mortgage our house. When his company went public, he proposed in front of everyone. I thought all those years finally meant something. But then he heard his one-sided love, Winnie Schell, died in a car crash. He got drunk and shoved me to the floor. "Why wasn't it you? If I didn't feel guilty about you, I would've married her." I clutched my stomach, pregnant, begging through tears. He sneered. "You owe Winnie everything. You really think you deserve my kid?" Then he kicked me—hard—right in the stomach. Pain ripped through me. Blood pooled between my legs. My vision went dark. When I opened my eyes again, I was back—one hour before the college application deadline.