Face Slapping Campus Short Stories & Novels

Three days before the SAT, someone was handing out energy drinks outside the school, claiming it sharpened one's mind and guaranteed high scores on exams. Sasha Jepsen climbed onto a chair and called out to the whole class, "Hurry downstairs and get one! They'll be gone if you wait. Drink it and your brain will work faster than anyone else's!" In my previous life, I insisted on stopping them. "This product isn't even regulated, and there's no manufacturer listed. Don't drink it! What if something is wrong with it?" I said. No one appreciated what I was trying to do. They accused me of being jealous and said I was secretly trying to take the top spot for myself. I couldn't talk them out of it, so I went to my homeroom teacher. She confiscated the entire batch and told everyone not to fall for these shady shortcuts. When the scores came out, Sasha didn't even meet the minimum score for college admission. She posted a long rant on Facebook, crying that I "stole" her energy drink and left her unable to think clearly during the SAT. The whole class turned on me. "If Willow Lawson hadn't meddled, we would've gotten into college after drinking that stuff!" All their hatred came crashing down on me, and I endured two months of their bullying before finally jumping from the 18th floor. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment Sasha was standing on a chair, calling out to everyone. I sat in the corner without even looking up. Let's see what kind of incredible scores they get after drinking this stuff.

My roommate, Katie Lloyd, is a hardcore environmentalist. Even in a hundred-degree heatwave, she locks the AC remote in her drawer. "We're going to sweat in the summer anyway. Just suck it up and consider it your contribution to saving the planet." That night, there isn't a breath of wind outside, and our dorm feels exactly like an oven. My head pounds from the stifling heat as sweat pours down my face. When I try to steal the key, Katie stands on a chair and snips the AC power cord. "Can't you see Mother Nature is running a fever? You're really selfish for making more greenhouse gases." In my last life, this is the exact night the entire school starts hunting me down with insults. Everyone calls me spoiled, claims I have no empathy for nature, and praises Katie for having a sense of mission. In the end, I suffer cardiogenic shock from the heat, without even getting a chance to call an ambulance. Katie weeps on camera, claiming my health failed simply because I eat too much processed junk food. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the very first day of the semester. Katie's dropping the AC remote into her drawer, asking me with tearful eyes, "A little heat won't kill you, right, Jane?" I grab my phone and medical records and head straight for the resident advisor's office. "I'd like to request a single room, please." Anyone else can play the martyr if they want. I'm just looking out for my own life.

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."

All because of Leo Cullen’s words, I gave up a place at a top-tier university in Ceres and stayed behind to retake the entrance exams with him—three times. By the fourth year, a girl arrived at our cram school, and Leo forgot the promise we made. He started skipping class, picking fights, smoking—doing everything but studying. One day, I stood at the school gate, blocking his path with a textbook in hand as he tried to ditch class. He smirked, unimpressed, and blew a bubble with his gum, letting it stick to the ends of my hair. “Naomi…,” he began, “who still cares about studying these days?” So I stopped caring and avoided him entirely. When he fooled around in the classroom, I went to the library. When he played basketball, I sat in a quiet corner with my books. Even when I craved noodles from my favorite shop, I’d scan the room first to make sure he wasn’t there. “Are you avoiding me, Naomi?” he asked later, his face in a frown. I shook my head. “Why would you think that?”

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?

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.

On the night before the college entrance exam, my boyfriend misdialed and called my number to confess his feelings to the school beauty. "Adele, you promised that if I willingly skipped the exam for you, you'd be my girlfriend. "That idiot Sadie already gave up her university early admission spot for me. Tomorrow, I'll be standing right outside the testing center with a massive bouquet of flowers waiting for you. I'm going to prove to you once and for all that my heart is yours!" In the background, a rowdy chorus of his friends cheered him on. "Trading a top scorer for the prettiest girl in school. You're a legend, Mark!" "When you two officially get together, you better throw a party!" "A match made in heaven!" Mark told them to quiet down, then anxiously asked into the phone, "Adele, are you happy?" I gripped my phone, unable to utter a single word. Because I wasn't Adele, I was the "idiot Sadie" he was talking about. Mark was my high school sweetheart, the very same boy who, just ten minutes ago, had texted me encouraging words to do well on the college entrance exam tomorrow so we could go to the same college together. After hanging up, I sat in the quiet for a long time. Then, I opened my contacts and called my guidance counselor. "Mr. Simpson, that early admission spot? I'm taking it back."

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.

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.

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!"

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?

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."

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!

Just before the SAT, Austin Burke, our school's popular but scatterbrained heartthrob, offered to hold on to everyone's admission tickets. As class president, I told him no. My girlfriend, Gloria Patterson, immediately jumped to his defense. "Why are you always picking on him?" I ignored her. On test day, I checked everyone's admission ticket and photo ID to make sure they were ready to go. When I finished handing back the tickets, Austin accused me of losing his. Before I could respond, Gloria snatched my ticket out of my hand and tore it to pieces. Our testing center required printed admission tickets, so I rushed to print another copy. By the time I reached the bus, it was about to leave. My classmates blocked the aisle, then shoved me off the bus. "You lost Austin's ticket, and now you think you can just get on the bus like nothing happened?" They all went on to earn excellent scores with the help of the practice questions I had put together for them. I missed the last test date before my college application deadlines and ended up putting my plans on hold for a year. When I finally took the SAT, I had one of the highest scores in the state. By then, Gloria and my former classmates were off at prestigious universities, enjoying their new lives. Still, they came back to our old school together with fabricated evidence that I cheated on the test. No one believed me, no matter what I said. One student who didn't get into college poured gasoline over me and set me on fire. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the days before the SAT. This time, I handed Austin everyone's admission tickets. Everyone's except mine.

I was born with a strikingly beautiful face, but I also suffered from severe social anxiety disorder. To hide from people's stares, I wore a face mask all year round, which made me the school's resident freak. They moved my desk into the boys' restroom and scrawled "UGLY FREAK" across my school uniform. They even cornered me in the equipment room and tried to force my mask off. That was when Hal Chilton, a transfer student, kicked the equipment room door open. He pulled me behind him and shot the group a cold look. "She doesn't want to take off her mask. Nobody gets to force her." From then on, he became my protector and wouldn't let anyone bully me. Little by little, I fell for him. For his sake, I even found the courage to take off my mask. Then, just before the graduation gala, I overheard Hal talking with the bullies. "The bet runs out tomorrow. Are you really going to confess to the ugly freak?" Hal laughed lazily. "Of course. "First, I'll get her to take off her mask in front of everyone. Then I'll tell her that everything, from the hero saving the damsel to us falling for each other over time, was an act we set up." Someone asked, "What if she turns out to be pretty under that mask?" Hal scoffed. "If she were pretty, would she have spent three years too scared to show her face?" I looked down at my phone. Half an hour earlier, Hal had texted me: [When I confess to you tomorrow night, can you take off your mask?] I'd happily replied: [Sure.]

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.

I've gotten into an accident three days before my SAT exam. As a result, my right leg is completely busted. As Selena Surrey stands before my hospital bed, she suddenly reveals the truth. "I'm the one who arranged the accident." She points at my broken leg, which is still sealed in a cast. A cruel smile blossoms on her face. "It's your fault for displeasing Aaron. You only broke one leg anyway. It's way better than watching Aaron continue to waste away in depression." I widen my eyes in disbelief. As I struggle against Selena, I leave fresh scratches on her arms. But Selena just pushes me away coldly, only to pat me on the head gently as she did in the past. "I think I understand how your parents feel now. No wonder they insisted on sending you to the orphanage back then. It's true that you aren't as likeable as Aaron." Aaron Lindt is my biological older brother. 15 years ago, I had gotten hurt just to save him from getting hit by a car. But he cried to our parents, claiming that I was the one who had pushed him. Our parents were quick to send me to an orphanage, completely disregarding my injuries. Just as I thought it was over for me, Selena showed up and promised me that she'd be the person I could rely on for the rest of my life. But now, she decides to ruin me with her own hands for the sake of the same person she has promised to protect me from.

Everyone thinks Jimmy Hudson, my college roommate, is the typical brutally honest and socially clueless guy who just has zero filter sometimes. A friend and I meet up to go boxing and practice our hooks, but he calls it a hookup when texting the group chat about it. He even nonchalantly says he won't be deleting his message. When I meet my boxing buddy, he says I'm meeting my hookup buddy. He even has the nerve to say, "It's just a joke. Don't be overly sensitive and read so much into it." Thanks to a few more of his dirty tricks, my reputation is ruined, and the entire class ostracizes me. But Jimmy doesn't stop there. He slips sleeping pills into my drink, which leads me to miss an exam. Later, he claims it was just a careless mistake and blames it on his scatterbrained tendencies. Eventually, he dumps crushed cherry pits into my water bottle, which ends up poisoning me to death. This all happened because our campus belle, whom he has a crush on, helped me with my luggage on our first day on campus. All of a sudden, my eyes open again. I've returned to the first day of my freshman year at college. This time, I'm going to let Jimmy get a taste of what it's like to have his life ruined with a helping of some social cluelessness of my own.

On Christmas Day, my dad gave me a golden apple. My roommates gasped in envy and immediately demanded I treat them to a meal. I smiled and agreed. I told them to head out first and that I'd join them shortly. When I came out of the bathroom, the dorm was empty. Sharon Everton's laptop was still glowing. I walked over to shut it down. That's when a WhatsApp group named 'Anti-Gold Digger Alliance' popped up on the screen. [No wonder she didn't come back last night. Bet she spent the whole night escorting again just to get that golden apple!] [A designer bag the day before, a golden apple today. With how many men she's serving every day, I wonder how wrecked she is down there.] [We have to hit her with a big bill today. Her money's dirty anyway. Spending it for her is basically doing a good deed!] There were four people in the dorm. Three of them were in that group chat. There was no doubt that they were talking about me. The friends I'd treated with genuine kindness all this time turned out to be ungrateful snakes.

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.