Feel-Good Story Campus Short Stories & Novels

On the day we finish our SATs, my snobbish deskmate, Ava Levine, insists that we film a graduation confession video together. I reluctantly agree out of courtesy, but to our surprise, the video goes viral overnight. Hooked on her newfound fame, she forces her way into my home and demands that I give up my spot at a top university to become an influencer with her. When I refuse, she starts a livestream at midnight, drawing an audience of a hundred thousand. With fake bruises painted on her body, she bursts into tears and accuses me of sexually assaulting her after I pretend to confess my feelings for her. She also claims that I hold her captive and abuse her. Her fanatical fans dox me overnight. They splatter red paint across my home and send me razor blades in the mail. In the ensuing chaos, one of her fans pushes my mom down the stairs, taking her life instantly. Before I can even clear my name, a speeding car runs me over on my way to the police station. A wave of excruciating pain tears through me. Then, my eyes snap open. I'm back on the day our exams are over, just as Ava holds up her phone and pleads, "Just pretend to say yes, please. I'm begging you."

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.

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.

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.

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.

I was like the pure and innocent Cinderella of a school romance novel. Unlike the aristocratic students around me, I didn't come from wealth or privilege. I earned my place at this elite academy through merit alone, my high scores opening the gates to a world far beyond my means. Cinderella is supposed to be stubborn, proud, and righteous—standing tall despite her humble origins. But I have none of those qualities. All I have is poverty.

We were biking up a steep climb when my roommate, Susan Edelman, caught up to me, panting hard. "Jeannine, this bike is wearing me out. Let's switch." I squeezed the brakes and was about to answer when an unfamiliar woman's voice came through my earbuds. "Jeannine, whatever you do, don't switch with her! "She borrowed that bike from the campus kingpin, and it's worth over 1.4 million dollars. She crashed yesterday and cracked the frame. A new frame and parts alone will run 420,000 dollars. "She wants to switch so she can pin it on you!" I frowned. Why would a financial-aid student like her borrow such an expensive bike? Then the voice came again. "In a minute, your boyfriend will come over and force you to switch, saying you need to keep up with the group. "Once you've switched, he'll back Susan up and swear you were the one who broke the bike." I was so mad it actually made me laugh. Why would my boyfriend help Susan? This had to be some prank show. Just then, I heard the familiar voice of my boyfriend, Benny Reid, "Why haven't you two switched yet? The main group's way ahead. We won't be able to catch up. "Jeannine, hurry up and switch with Susan so we can go after them." Sure enough, my boyfriend had shown up, with the exact same reason for the switch. Startled, I put my foot back down on the pedal I'd just let go of. If they wanted me to take the fall, they should have done their homework. There was a reason my last name was Chandler, and so was the campus kingpin's: Nick Chandler.

The side character, Derek Holloway, poured his heart and soul into every single year of high school. When the moment came to earn a place in the honors program, his childhood best friend, Vivian Sterling, handed the golden ticket straight to Blake Mercer, the male lead. Vivian's voice sounded flat, completely unbothered. "I've really thought this through. If we're in the same class, we'll just distract each other from studying. "Besides, Blake's family is struggling financially. He needs this opportunity way more than you do. Just step aside for him, okay?" I watched Derek step aside for Blake. One hundred and one times. I watched him go home and suffer a brutal beating from both his parents for losing that honors spot. One hundred and one times. I watched him lose his mind while the girl he'd loved since childhood paraded around town with another guy. One hundred and one times. I watched his grades plummet into the gutter, destroying any shot at admission to an Ivy League school. One hundred and one times. I watched him get framed for cheating on SAT, which drove him to jump from the thirty-sixth floor. One hundred and one times. Then I took complete control of his body. Vivian had no idea who she was dealing with. I came from an era torn apart by war and gunfire. I didn't give a damn about petty teenage romance. Anything worth taking, anything worth fighting for, I would fight for and claim every last one.

Right after my exchange program interview, I become the center of a campus scandal. The headline is brutal. "Top Student Caught Getting Into a Rich Woman's Bentley Late At Night. Did He Earn His Exchange Spot or Sleep His Way Into It?" The post includes a 12-second clip of a middle-aged woman stepping out of a Bentley and opening the door for me. Mark Stone, the campus heartthrob, wastes no time spreading rumors that I'm a sugar baby and that I stole his spot in the exchange program by sleeping my way to the top. Bruce Jagger, my academic advisor, pressures me to give up my spot. Hugo Lawson, my roommate, even packs up and moves out overnight. But Mark isn't done. He publicly challenges me to bring the woman to campus and face him head-on. So, I make one phone call and summon the very woman he's accusing me of sleeping with to come to campus. Everyone expects me to get exposed in front of the whole school. Instead, the woman walks up to me and addresses me respectfully in front of the entire crowd. "Mr. Durham, you called for me?"

The school beauty was obsessed with dares. Over the course of high school, she had made people bark like dogs on the sports field and even made someone confess their love to one of the cafeteria ladies. On the day of our final exam, she was feeling mischievous again. While we were riding to the exam venue on a school bus, she secretly hid everyone's admission tickets. She called it our 'last big adventure'. "Come on, everyone! Start looking! If you find yours, we'll all walk into the exam room together. If you don't..." She grinned. "I guess I'll see you all next year!" I frowned and was just about to stop her when rows of comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [Our girl is so cool! It's the final exam, but she still has the guts to take things this far.] [Ugh, that other girl is so annoying. Here she goes again, trying to lecture our girl.] [Let her keep pushing her luck. If she dares call the police and ruin our girl's finals, the male lead will retaliate by changing her college application to St. Aldwyn University. Then, he'll deliberately make things difficult for her. It won't be long before he drives her into depression and suicide. [Meanwhile, with the male lead supporting our girl every step of the way, she'll become the youngest Doctor of Medicine in the country.] I froze. Then, without a word, I closed the emergency call screen. Instead, I opened my offer from Cromwell University and clicked 'Accept'.

At the class session joined by the school leaders and officials from the Department of Education, my lecture PPT was swapped for a sensational "Mistress's Charge Letter". "Charge one. Willingly being the other woman makes her an unsuitable role model for students." "Charge two. Attempting to secure a higher position through sex." "Charge three. Menacing the lawful wife with the absurd hope of advancing through pregnancy." Amidst the leaders and officials, my husband's illegitimate child accused me of disrupting her parents' marriage. In the name of "expelling the mistress to achieve justice", she coerced me, the true wife, into a humiliating bow to the mistress. I confronted my husband upon his arrival, "Care to explain? Why didn't I know that you had an illegitimate daughter?" He responded with a strike to the girl's face. "Where are you from, you unruly child? You're so ill-mannered!"

I was abandoned just five days after I was born. For some reason, my biological mother dumped me outside the headquarters of the Bloods. A group of dangerous-looking men stared down at me and frowned. “Should we raise her?” And just like that, I gained ninety-nine dads. At home, I was their little princess. However, to avoid causing trouble for them, I spent over ten years living like an ordinary girl. Until I became the target of school bullying in high school. A rich girl cornered me in the bathroom with her followers, dumping cold water on me, tearing my clothes, and shoving a phone in my face while recording. “What are you staring at? You’re just some scholarship charity case. Does a loser like you actually think you can get into college?” However, they pushed me too far. Screaming, I grabbed the rich girl and dragged her with me off the third floor. When I woke up, Ms. Jones, the teacher in charge of the infirmary, was pointing at me and screaming. “So because she hit you, you tried to kill her?! Instead of reflecting on yourself after people insult you, you planned revenge?! “Call your parents! I want to see what kind of people raised you! If nobody comes today, you’re finished!” My entire body instantly went cold. Then I looked up nervously and asked, “Ms. Jones, are you sure you want me to call my dad?”

I'm Aiden, a background character in a melodrama novel. When the arrogant scholarship student, Brock, transferred into our school and cursed the four most powerful families as a cancer on society, I was studying. While the four heiresses dragged Brock through endless love-hate drama, I kept grinding away. That was until the midterm exams, when I snatched first place away from him. The Holdsworth heiress locked me in a dark storage room, saying she'd keep me there for three days to teach me a lesson. So I calmly dialed an encrypted number on my phone. After all, it's a trashy melodrama. Who doesn't have a hidden identity? Three minutes later, the entire school was surrounded by a fleet of helicopters...

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.

My boyfriend, Nathan Linden, refuses to participate in buy one, get one free promotions with me, so every time we go out on a date, my best friend, Candace Lane, always ends up joining us. "Buy one free one at Lucky Star Beverages! Don't miss out!" Nathan immediately calls Candace, then places his order first without missing a beat. Candace doesn't take long to arrive and accepts the iced coffee Nathan passes her. The straw is already stuck into the drink. The pair begin to talk about a mutual game they play, getting into a heated discussion that causes their faces to flush red. I tighten my grip on the receipt I'm holding. The milkshakes are clearly on promotion too, yet every time, I'm the odd one out and have to order for myself. By the time I receive my milkshake, Nathan and Candace have already exited the shop. I hurry over to the cinema across the street to meet up with them, only to see the two of them arguing. As it turns out, Nathan's credit card allows him to enjoy 50% off if he buys two tickets, but he has no intention of giving that second ticket to me. When Candance spots me, she urges me, "Lily, quick! Go buy a ticket for yourself. The movie's going to start in ten minutes." Then, she shoves a bucket of popcorn into my arms and adds with a shy smile, "Here, the popcorn was buy one, get one free too. You can have this bucket all to yourself since you eat so much. Nate and I can just share this one bucket." I pause and glance between the two. Their movie seats are next to each other, and their favorite drinks, phone casings, and even the keychains hanging from their backpacks are all the same. Suddenly, an epiphany crashes over me. Since they love buy one, get one free promotions that much, I'll just back out of this relationship.

My boyfriend, Joshua Carter, my best friend, Alanna Hayes, and I agree to apply to Lakehaven University together. But on the first day of college, I don't see a trace of either of them. I stand outside the university gates under the scorching summer sun, my clothes soaked through with sweat. Then Alanna video calls me. With her hands clasped together and her eyes red-rimmed, she says, "I'm sorry, Clary! It was because I suddenly wanted to go to Bellmere University instead that I changed my college application. I heard they have really luxurious dorms!" Joshua, sitting next to Alanna, speaks casually as if nothing is wrong. "College applications were about to close when Alanna decided on the change, so we only had time to change our own applications." As he speaks, Joshua spears a piece of beef with his fork and feeds it to Alanna. "Why are you crying? It's not like we'll never see each other again. Bellmere isn't that far from Lakehaven. It's only a three-hour train ride away. We can still see each other every month." Alanna pauses, bites down on the piece of beef, and mutters, "Clary, I swear you're the only one who can put up with this grumpy jerk for so long. From now on, I'll help you whip him into shape!" Joshua chuckles and pinches her cheek. "Hah! You? We'll see who ends up whipping the other into shape." I stand frozen. The summer sun is scorching, yet I suddenly feel as though I've been plunged into a frozen wasteland. Joshua is a huge clean freak, so he makes me wash my hands before touching his things, and whenever I serve him food, he makes sure I use serving utensils. But he can feed Alanna with his fork, and even reach out to pinch her cheek. So that's how it is—his obsession with cleanliness only applies to certain people. Suddenly, I feel like there's no point in any of this anymore. If they don't want me around, then I'll leave.

I'm reincarnated a week before the college entrance exam. Despite being the soon-to-be top scorer, I stab my eye with a syringe. In my past life, Marianne Quentin, my boyfriend Lance Russell's childhood friend, reported me for cheating off her during the final mock exam. The teacher compared our papers and found that my essay was identical to hers. He harshly criticized me and warned me not to repeat my mistake. However, Marianne reported me for copying her answers again during the math exam. Once again, my answers were found to be identical to hers. The teacher scolded me for being incorrigible and sent me home to reflect on my actions. I couldn't understand what had happened. Clearly, I'd never cheated, but my answers were nearly identical to Marianne's, whether in writing and language or in math. As the SAT exam loomed over me, I could only suppress my doubts as I stepped into the exam hall. I finished the writing paper and thought I was safe. However, Marianne stepped out and accused me of cheating again. I tried to defend myself, yet the answers on my paper were identical to hers. In the end, I was disqualified, kicked out of the exam hall, and banned from taking any exams in the next two years—just because I "cheated". I succumbed to despair and leaped from the rooftop. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to one week before the SAT.

Cosmo Finch, the class president, announces in the group chat that the graduation dinner is being held at 6:00 pm. I arrive at the restaurant ten minutes early and wait outside the private dining room, only for him to stop me and shove a payment QR code in my face. "You're the last one in the class to arrive. Now, transfer me 300 dollars if you want to get in!" I'm baffled. "Didn't you tell us it starts at 6:00 pm? It's only 5:50 pm. How am I late?" Cosmo rolls his eyes and sneers, "Everyone else arrived an hour early to toast our advisor. You're the only one who shows up on the dot. Do you have no sense of team spirit? If you don't want to pay your share, leave!" Not wanting to make a scene at our last college get-together, I transfer the money with a cold expression and push open the door to the private dining room. However, the moment I step inside, my classmates are already putting on their coats and getting ready to leave. I take in all the sparkling-clean plates on the table, not quite processing what I'm seeing. Cosmo calls out from behind, "Everyone, grab your belongings. It's time to hit the speakeasy bar! Kieran, since you showed up last, the rest of the bill is on you!"

On the night of senior prom, I stayed beside Ethan Cole as I always had. Someone teased us again. “Why don’t we give the dance floor to our favorite childhood sweethearts?” I had heard that joke countless times, but the secret I had kept for years still made my cheeks burn. Ethan said nothing. He did not ask me to dance. He walked out of the ballroom and into the night. I waited before following him. I had barely reached the doorway when I heard his voice, low and flat with impatience. “It’s suffocating. Does she have to follow me everywhere?” He was the one who said it. He was also the one who had promised I could depend on him until I fully recovered. I spent the rest of that night alone in the empty ballroom. The following Monday morning, I passed the college wish wall outside our classroom and removed the note bearing the name Westbridge University. It was the school we had promised to attend together. I still wanted him beside me. But I would no longer choose my future just to stay beside him.

My roommate buys an off-the-shoulder top. I happen to own one too. Apparently, that's all it takes for her to start telling everyone I'm obsessed with copying her. According to her, I'm like a rat, constantly watching her and stealing her style. Seriously? I open my closet and reveal rows upon rows of clothes, packed from end to end—all from the latest collections. Then I turn to her with a smile. "So, tell me. How exactly am I copying you?"