Feel-Good Story Campus Short Stories & Novels

My roommate, Megan Williams, stole the thesis I had spent 187 days writing and revising through twenty-seven drafts for my grad school recommendation. She put her own name on it and submitted it to the college, taking my recommendation spot and deleting every original file from my computer. When I confronted her, she dropped to the floor and started crying. She said I had no right to slander her when I failed to get recommended for grad school. Then she posted a long message in the class group chat, claiming I had plagiarized and had a messy private life. Hundreds of messages flooded in, all of them scolding me. I went to the student counselor. He simply sighed and said, "You're classmates. Let it go." Megan became emboldened after that. She stole the materials I prepared for the competition and ripped up my application form. She smiled as she said, "No matter how hard you try, it won't matter." I stared at her without saying a word. What she did not know was that I had left the model and drafts on my desk on purpose. She took them as expected. Three days later, she pranced through the dorm with the first prize certificate from the university's Outstanding Achievement Awards. "Nelly, look. This is what real talent looks like." I only smiled and said nothing. Because that first prize would be what landed her on the disciplinary list.

Trent Mercer, my rich-kid roommate, stumbled through the door late at night. He was half-dragging Raven Cross, the campus queen, who had passed out cold. "Hey, Skye," Trent sneered, reeking of cheap tequila, "This one's a real catch. I'm feeling generous, so you get first dibs." I turned down my three roommates’ “generous offer.” Instead, I quietly set up a hidden camera, angling it directly toward the bed. This was my third life, after all. In my first life, I played the hero. I stepped in and saved Raven, only for her to turn around and accuse me of sexual assault. I died in prison long before I ever saw my release date. In my second life, I turned a blind eye. I ignored them and went straight to sleep. The next morning, Raven pinned the crime on me anyway. Right before I died, she finally told me the truth. Of the three guys involved, one had a family too powerful to touch, while another was her secret crush. Trent used me as the scapegoat, clearing his name and securing an Ivy League spot. This was my third time around. It was time to settle the score.

With graduation three months away, the seniors in my advising cohort still hadn't finished the internship credits they needed. I talked my father into taking all of them at Morgan Components: three thousand a month after tax, free room and board, weekends off. Brooke Hayes, our senior class president, was the first to object. "Three thousand? That's what you throw at a panhandler. Everyone, I've already found us placements. Eighteen thousand a month. They sign off on the paperwork after thirty days, and the company's flying us overseas on top of it." I told them it had every mark of a recruitment trap, and I called their parents. Brooke turned the whole cohort against me. They said I'd used my position to funnel them into my family's plant and pocket the state hiring credits. They filed a joint complaint. I lost my job, and the pile-on online drove my father's company into bankruptcy. Then I walked into traffic in a daze, and as the car sent me flying I saw her leaning against my fiancé, laughing. "That's what you get for going after my man." When I opened my eyes, I was back in the group chat, on the day she announced she'd found everyone a high-paying job. This time, I smiled while I typed. "Well then — good luck with graduation, everyone!"

My sister, Cindy Gardner, and I are fraternal twins. She gets to be the elder sister because she comes out one minute before me, making me the younger brother. Luckily, there's little difference between us when it comes to intelligence. Throughout our school years, one of us always ranks first, and the other comes in second. But after three years of competing in high school, with me coming in second every time, I calmly agree to keep her secret about dating a delinquent named Rodney Sloan. Then the guaranteed-admission spots to Belton University, the country's top university, become available. Our homeroom teacher calls Cindy and me into her office. "There are two guaranteed-admission spots. They're awarded based on grades, and the two of you are next in line. "Fill out this form." I nod and quickly fill out the entire form. Just as I'm about to hand it over to her, Cindy, who is standing quietly beside us, suddenly moves. She snatches my form, tears it to pieces, and tosses the scraps into the air. "If you want me to take the guaranteed spot, there's one condition—Rodney has to get in with me." I laugh in disbelief. What a complete idiot. Mom and Dad are going to tear her apart for this.

On the day of the college entrance exam, Jorja Smith, my son's homeroom teacher, calls to inform me that my son, Heath Hanson is absent. Heath doesn't return my calls or texts back. I look all over for him, only to come home and find him on the couch, eating fruits. When I ask Heath why, he sneers, "I just don't feel like going. You signed me up for six tutoring classes. My weekends are always full, and everything I do has to go according to your plan. I've had enough." I force myself to stay calm. "Finish the exam first. We'll talk things through after that." Heath throws the torn-up admission ticket in my face. "It's gone. I can't take the exam even if I want to." I black out as my old illness flares up, and I collapse. Heath glances at me, goes back inside his room, and slams the door shut. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day of Heath's college entrance exam. Jorja calls again, and I tell her, "Ms. Smith, he won't be taking the exam."

I'm not naturally academically gifted. No matter how hard I push myself—staying up until three in the morning only to drag myself out of bed at six—I can barely keep my grades somewhere in the middle of the class. For most of my school life, no one pays much attention to me. That changes three months before the college entrance exam. One day, my homeroom teacher, Victoria Bennett, calls class president Ethan Sterling and me into her office without warning. She looks at me sternly, asking, "Did you cheat off Ethan during this month's exam?" I shake my head. "No." Victoria turns to Ethan. "What do you have to say?" Ethan quietly chuckles. "I was focused on my own test, so I didn't really notice what he was doing." He pauses, then adds, "Although… I did get the feeling that someone kept turning around to look at me." I stare at him in disbelief. "Me? Looking at you? I never even looked your way!" Victoria's expression hardens, and her voice rises. "You're still going to argue with me? "You ranked 23rd in the class on the last exam, and now, all of a sudden, you're in the top ten?" Before I can respond, she picks up my exam paper and casually draws a thick line through my score. "Since you cheated, I'm giving you a failing grade on this exam." She looks at me coldly. "And you'll write a 3,000-word self-criticism." My heart sinks. "Otherwise, you can forget about staying in school."

On our sixth anniversary, my girlfriend Emily Spencer's childhood friend, Dante Randall, pulls out a "Model Boyfriend Scorecard". He throws an arm around her shoulders. "Em's too trusting. A guy says a few sweet words, and she falls for it, so I need to screen them for her. After all, nobody knows men better than a man." Emily doesn't object. She just sighs. "My mom picked the wrong guy in the past. I'm not making the same mistake." From that day on, every single thing I do ends up on that scorecard. When Dante calls Emily in the middle of the night to pick him up from a bar, I offer to drive her because I'm worried. Dante looks me right in the eye and writes, "Tails his girlfriend everywhere. Overly controlling. Minus ten marks." Emily secretly lends our newly renovated home to Dante for a party. When I return, I find the leather couch slashed and large patches of grease smeared across the pristine white walls. I tremble with rage and confront him about ruining our home. Stinking of booze, Dante taps his scorecard. "Obsesses over material possessions. High risk of financial control after marriage. Minus 20 marks." I stare at the wreckage, completely speechless. Dante makes another mark. "Shuts down under stress. Suspected emotional abuse. Minus another 20 marks." "You're down to 50 marks. That's a failing grade. How can I entrust Em to you?" I turn to Emily. She doesn't say a single word to defend me. It hits me all at once that there was never a passing grade for this model boyfriend test to begin with. If I'm destined to fail this test, then I quit.

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?

Right as college acceptance letters went out, my golden boy of a brother, Bill Cyrus, spread a rumor that I stole his spot at Braxton University. His only proof was a single paparazzi shot of me standing outside the university gates. Of course, my parents believed him. To protect Bill's precious reputation, they forced me to take the fall. They even threatened to lock me away in an internet-addiction center for good to erase their embarrassment of their younger son—the one who dropped out and ran wild for a year. Watching my own family line up to tear me apart over one massive lie, the last scrap of hope I had for them shattered completely. I stopped holding back. I watched, ice-cold, as they dug their own graves. Let's see exactly how someone who couldn't even clear the cutoff for an average state school planned to prove he got into the best university in the country.

After the SAT results come out, the girl everyone knows as the school's scholarship case throws a lavish graduation party. That same night, I get a text alert saying my credit card has been maxed out. I go to confront her, but she's already in my boyfriend's arms, sobbing like she's the victim. "Just because I'm on financial aid, I'm not allowed to throw a party?" My boyfriend rushes to comfort her and turns on me instead. "Your family's loaded anyway. Spending a little on Lacey isn't going to kill you." Sure, my family has money, but I'm not a saint, and I don't see why I should be footing her bills. I refuse to back down. I call the police to make her pay me back, but my boyfriend retaliates by going after my family's company, pushing it to the brink of bankruptcy. On my way to meet potential investors, my boyfriend and Lacey Kemp conspire to run me off the road and kill me. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day of her party.

On the third day after receiving our college acceptance letters, the most popular student in school, Natalie Simmons, proposes something in our class group chat. "We're all adults now, and we've already been accepted into college. We should do something exciting before the semester begins. Let's put on a show and stage a fake bank heist. It'll be fun." In my last life, I make 23 phone calls in a row and confiscate every prop they plan to use. No one gets hurt. But Natalie becomes the target of criticism from parents and teachers. She sinks into depression and eventually jumps into a lake. The entire class blames me and hates me. At our graduation dinner, they force a whole bottle of liquor down my throat. Then, they say they're taking me to the riverside to sober up. When I wake up, I'm in the river. Water fills my lungs, freezing cold. The news report summed up my life in five words. "Drunk Man Falls Into River." When I open my eyes again, my phone is vibrating. The very first message in the group chat is Natalie's proposal. This time, I don't say anything. I take screenshots and save copies.

My roommate, Jessica Miller, kept a pet dog in our college dormitory. Out of consideration for everyone else, I bought her a crate and told her that letting the dog roam freely would frighten the other residents. She lashed out at me. "Chloe, how selfish can you be? Would you like it if I locked you in a metal cage? I've had him for years. He doesn't hurt people, so stop worrying over nothing." During a dorm inspection, her dog suddenly lunged at the dorm supervisor. I desperately pulled the dog away, but the supervisor was still left covered in wounds. The incident went viral online, yet Jessica claimed that I was the dog's owner. My other roommates were threatened into silence, while the dorm supervisor's son flew into a rage and beat me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Jessica brought her dog back to the dorm. This time, I completely repurposed the metal crate as a storage shelf. "I bought this to decorate my desk. Don't get the wrong idea. It's not for your dog!"

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?"

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!"

I was Windsor’s most untouchable heiress. The chairman of the university board was my grandfather. The student council president was my fiancé. The basketball team captain and the top student in our major were my childhood friends. Everyone said that if I wanted something at Windsor, I could have it. After taking a year off from college because of illness, I returned to campus. The moment I stepped through the gates, lines of comments suddenly appeared in front of me. [The spoiled heiress is back! She still doesn't know that all three male leads have fallen for the new transfer student.] [Jessica may be poor, but she's stubborn and kind. Watching her refuse financial help and insist on working part-time is heartbreaking.] [Natalie bullies Jessica because of her family's wealth. In the end, the male leads will all hate her. Even her fiancé will break off their engagement in front of everyone.] [I love watching spoiled rich girls lose everything!] When the three young men who once had eyes only for me insulted me at the opening ceremony just to defend a poor student, I simply smiled. Then I decided to stay away from them from that day forward. After all, a true heiress never needs to lose her mind over a man just to prove her worth.

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 results day, I'll have a way to turn back time and take us all back to the exam room!" Lily Parker, the prettiest girl in our class, stood at the front of the room, threw up an arm, and shouted it at the top of her voice. "Sign up with me! Just $999. If it's a scam, I'll pay you back ten times over! "You'll even get a polished answer key for the college entrance exams. Guaranteed not to get flagged for cheating!" The classroom erupted. In the corner, I didn't even look up. I'd found the same method three days earlier. And I'd decided against it. For one simple reason: time inside that exam room was completely broken. Thirty seconds for English. Twelve hours for math. And between papers, three days and nights of hunger and thirst you couldn't survive twice.

The day we were supposed to submit our college applications, the class representative, Kenneth Graves, used a marketing video to brainwash everyone. “Times have changed, my friends! The best AI models have predicted that, in the next three years, even Ivy League graduates will face a 100% jobless rate! “What’s the real trend right now? It’s Galaxy Technical College! Once you register for this college, you will be hired into top AI companies upon graduation. Your salary will start from a million dollars a year!” In the previous timeline, I had locked the computer system and tried my best to prove that the entire thing was a scam. I had forced these high-performing students to apply to Ivy League schools. In the end, Kenneth jumped to his death after failing to get the “referral rewards” from Galaxy Technical College because he owed lots of debt. However, there was another surge of interest in AI, and the reputation of Galaxy Technical College rose because it picked the right stocks to invest in. During our graduation gathering, my classmates splashed me with hot oil and nearly trampled me to death. “If you hadn’t stopped us, we would have become stars of the AI world with million-dollar salaries ages ago! You killed Kenneth!” When I next opened my eyes, I had traveled back in time to the day of our college applications. I touched my unmarred face and went to snatch the mouse from Kenneth. “Kenneth is right! An Ivy League school is no match for Galaxy Technical College! Apply there! I’ll help with your applications!”

I have crippling social anxiety, so online dating is the only kind of dating I can handle. The day I was reunited with my wealthy biological family, Flynn Davidson, the son they'd raised in my place, tearfully offered to give his engagement back to me. I quickly waved him off. "No, no. I'm good. I have a girlfriend." The moment the words left my mouth, several lines of text suddenly appeared in front of me. [I'm dying. The villain is turning down the engagement now, but just wait until he sees the heroine. He'll regret it immediately.] [The heroine only has eyes for the fake heir. This guy keeps shoving his chat history in her face and refuses to leave her alone.] [In the end, he drives the hero into such severe depression that he slits his wrists. The heroine hates him so much that she breaks his arms and legs and locks him in a psychiatric hospital.] What a joke. With my social anxiety, how could I possibly harass some woman I'd never even met? Just then, footsteps sounded outside the door. Flynn hurried over, his eyes red. "Sloan, this is my brother, Cullen Davidson. The man you were originally supposed to marry." I turned around and found myself staring at a familiar face. Sloan Patrick. My girlfriend of six years. The girlfriend I'd only ever dated online.

My best friend is known throughout the school as a woman of integrity. So, when she's offered a coveted spot in Austin University's special admissions list, she rejects it in front of the principal, our homeroom teacher, and the top students in our grade. She explains, "I've worked hard for all these years just to take the college entrance exam fairly. Taking a shortcut like this would just be unfair to me and everyone who has been preparing for the exam." Everyone is moved by her words. However, I know something they don't. Yesterday, she was clutching the admissions brochure in our dorm room. She was so excited that she didn't sleep at all. She refused only because she wanted the school, the teachers, and her classmates to beg her to take it. Unfortunately for her, when the principal asks her about it one more time, I raise my hand and say, "Sir, if she doesn't want to accept the offer, I'll take it instead." The entire room becomes silent. Her self-righteous facade nearly crumbles, but she forces herself to persuade me, "Nina, you can't take something that doesn't belong to you just because you want to avoid taking the college entrance exam." Yet, I laugh at her words. I retort, "It doesn't belong to me? If a certain someone is refusing a huge opportunity out of false modesty, it should go to someone who actually wants it."