Plot Twists Short Stories & Campus Beauty Campus Novels

Snowie Walton, the belle of the class, claimed she could hear my thoughts. When a classmate gained weight from hormone medications, she pointed at me and shouted, "Why did you call Eva a disgusting fat pig? Do you think you'll never be ill in your life?" The others believed her right away. They surrounded me, relentlessly demanding that I apologize publicly. From that day onward, I was isolated by the entire class. Later, during a lesson, the teacher mentioned her family. Snowie suddenly turned on me again. "What do you mean that our teacher only got this job through connections and that she has no capabilities at all? Show some respect!" I desperately explained that I had never thought such things, but the teacher didn't believe me. Not only was I written up for disciplinary action, but my scholarship was also revoked. Then, confidential documents from the school labs were stolen. Once again, Snowie blamed me. "How could you sell those files to foreigners and say that they were only worth a hundred thousand?" I was arrested by the police and convicted of leaking state secrets. I was sentenced to life imprisonment. In the end, I died in prison, consumed by depression. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day Snowie accused me of insulting Eva. By this time, she didn't know that I had uncovered her secret behind her so-called ability to hear my thoughts.

My roommate won first prize in the national lottery, a full 100 million dollars. She quit her job on the spot, blocked her boss, and said to me, "Amanda, from now on, we'll live in Luxuria Heights, eating the best food and living it up." We went on shopping sprees at Hermès and treated Michelin restaurants like our daily canteen. On moving day, she told me to go ahead to the top-floor luxury apartment and wait for her. She said she needed to pick up a package. Excited, I entered the password she had given me. "Beep. Incorrect password." I was just about to try again. Then, the door opened. The person who came out was not my roommate but a stranger in a suit. He looked at me and frowned. "Who are you? Why do you have the password to my home?" I was stunned. "This is Lydia Zaydn's apartment. Who are you?" The man's expression turned strange. "Lydia Zaydn? I've lived here for five years. I've never heard of that name."

Sharon Deleon, the campus belle, has secretly stuffed a folded piece of paper into my pencil case five minutes before the start of the postgraduate admission exam. A series of comments streak across my vision. "The paper is filled with answers to the exam questions! Sharon has already lodged a report to the teachers. The school proctor will be here soon. Once that paper is found in Cassandra's pencil case, her admission recommendation will be terminated immediately!" "Hmph! This is all that nerd's fault for standing in Sharon's way to success! The proctor is Sharon's uncle, after all! Cassandra's doomed today!" The next thing I know, the proctor strides into the classroom angrily. He makes a beeline to my seat right away. "Someone has reported you for cheating. Dump out the contents in your pencil case right now!" I just do what I'm told with a blank look. There are only a few pens in sight. The folded piece of paper, however, isn't there. Sharon widens her eyes in shock. "How could this be? But I'm very sure that I—" Before she can finish speaking, a folded piece of paper containing the answers falls out of her pocket. Everyone doesn't know that I'm capable of reflecting misfortune by nature. Whoever sabotages me will get a dose of their own medicine instead.

The most popular girl in school, Mona Culver, could only apply for the city's worst community college because of her poor school results. My childhood friend, James Holden, got our entire class to fill out application forms for community college too. It was his attempt to negotiate with Northrind University's admissions department to make an exception for Mona to study there. The top thirty students in the city shared pictures of their amended application forms to community college. Back in my past lifetime, I tried my best to talk them out of it. The application submission deadline was the next day, and no amendments would be allowed after that. If they wasted their time threatening Northrind by applying to community college, and the deadline passed, nothing could be done to change the results, even if they were the city's top thirty students. Their dreams of attending an Ivy League school would be quashed after ten years of hard work, and no one knew what their future would hold after that. James got angry and berated me, "You're just afraid Mona will be better than you once we start classes at Northrind. Stop pretending like you're doing this for us!" The rest of my classmates were also upset with me, and they turned their fury on me. "Our high school results mean nothing. With our abilities, we would still be able to attend Northrind next year if we repeat the year. You should just mind your own business!" We had been classmates for three years, and I could not let them compromise their futures. I informed our principal and their parents of their plans, and their application forms were amended. I managed to stop them from threatening Northrind's admissions department. All of them were accepted by Northrind in the end, and they became elites in their respective industries with bright futures ahead. Mona ended up getting pregnant with a thug's child while in community college, and she suffered from both physical and mental issues. She fell into deep depression and even attempted suicide several times. James broke down when he learned the truth, and he blamed it all on me. He worked with our classmates to fabricate evidence that I committed plagiarism, and they poisoned my drink. Even my parents were burned to death by a patient from a mental hospital. When I was reborn into this lifetime, I saw James change our group chat's name into 'Fight for True Love! Let's Go to Northrind Together!' I left the group without hesitation and blocked everyone's numbers.

During orientation training, the class belle, everyone’s favorite, led the entire class to protest against the orientation leader. The orientation leader threatened to make us run as punishment, but she took on everyone’s training load by herself. But in reality, she shifted all the exhaustion onto me. She ran 30 miles while carrying weights without batting an eye. Then, she told the orientation leader that she was willing to take on all the class’s remaining orientation training duties by herself. From that point on, she became the darling of the entire class. Meanwhile, I was exhausted beyond measure, was frequently hospitalized, and was late to training. It affected our class’s honor roll standing. I got yelled at by the whole class. When I explained the situation to everyone, they dismissed me as a nutcase. “You’ve only been in training for a few days! How could you be this exhausted? I think you’re just faking it.” “Are you just jealous that Eira Yard is in better shape than you, looks better than you, and is even more popular than you?” In utter despair, I confronted Eira, but she casually changed into her orientation training uniform. “Please step aside. I’m going to run the final weighted cross-country race on behalf of the entire school. I don’t have time to mess around with you.” Once she was done with the run in the 104-degree heat, her expression remained cool and collected. I, on the other hand, felt as if my limbs had been severed. My organs failed, and I died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the first day of orientation training. This time, I beat everyone to it and reported to the orientation leader. “I’ll run for the whole class.”

After transmigrating through three novels in a row, the hardest thing I ever suffer through is drinking iced long black. But when I open my eyes again, I somehow become the pathetic simp side character in a trashy romance novel. Just as I debate whether to file a complaint against the system, the trembling system hurriedly explains something to me. Although this is a trashy romance novel, it is also an unfinished abandoned novel. I ask, "So you're saying I decide how the story develops?" The system replied, "Yes. Everything is completely under your control." Satisfied, I lazily stretch and begin checking the original Jacob's background. He has a trillionaire father and a billionaire mother. On top of that, he has seven rich and beautiful older sisters. With such a ridiculously overpowered setup, how can he go around simping for a broke college girl with no money? What a complete waste!

I was reborn one month before the forensic certification exam. This time, I spent my days drinking and clubbing instead of slaving away studying, for the class belle had bound me to an Achievement Transfer System in my previous life. We had prepared for the forensic certification together, and I'd burned the midnight oil while she slacked off and partied. Yet, I scored a zero and failed, while she got exactly what she wanted and passed when the results were out. The entire class praised the class belle for her talent and mocked me, saying a nobody like me could never rise above my station. Unwilling to accept it, I demanded a review of the exam. The results showed that every single one of my answers was wrong, while hers were all correct. I searched through everything from my past experiments, only to find that every certificate bore the class belle's name. The class belle then put on an innocent front and accused me of misconduct, declaring imperiously, "Dakota Saunders, you've always pretended to be hardworking in front of others. I just didn't expect you to lie for so long that you started believing it yourself! "And now you've even stolen my certificates! You're disgusting. A thief like you belongs in the sewers, not here!" I was scorned by everyone and expelled from the academy. In the end, unable to bear the blow, I jumped to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to one month before the forensic certification exam.

When our teacher caught my desk mate, Avery Collins, and me stealing mock exam papers just before the college entrance exam, he shouted, "The college entrance exam is right around the corner! What was the point of stealing the mock exam papers? Tell me, who was the mastermind?" In my previous life, I took the blame without hesitation. My father nearly beat me to death for it. Avery and I attended the same university, got married after graduation, and raised a daughter, spending thirty years together. I believed I had the perfect life. Then, on the day of my daughter, Emma's wedding, I was thrown out of the venue. Emma told me, "You have no right to be here. Caleb Morgan is my real father." Avery looked at me coldly. "After you got drunk, you already signed the divorce papers. The company, the house, and all the assets belong to me now. You're leaving with nothing. From this day forward, we're strangers." Lost in a daze, I wandered into the street and was crushed beneath a speeding truck. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day everything began. This time, I told the teacher directly, "Avery was the one behind it. I gave her the papers, but I never looked at them. My score belongs to me."

The whole school knew I was Derek Hardy's doormat—his loyal little puppy, always trailing behind him no matter what. But no matter how much he looked down on me, brushed me off, or treated me like I didn't matter, I never left his side. Until a basketball game, when Derek took a scratch to the face. I frowned, got to my feet, and muttered under my breath, "Took me forever to find a decent replacement. What a waste."

I break up with my childhood sweetheart, Daphne Hogan, right outside my dorm. She doesn't even look up from her phone. "Just because I ditched you for him at dinner the other night?" "Yes." Daphne figures I'm just throwing a tantrum. Her fingers fly across her screen as she replies to a freshman's texts. Whatever message he sends makes her rush off. Before leaving, she gives me a fond, exasperated sigh. "Don't be silly. Get some sleep tonight. You have a hiking drill tomorrow. I'll be there." Daphne walks away without looking back, completely missing the finality in my eyes. It's time to put an end to this childhood romance.

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.

The earthquake hit out of nowhere, and the whole class jammed up at the door. Rainee Bianco, our resident queen bee, jumped onto the podium. "Don't freak out! Get into the triangle zone and wait for rescue!" Yeah, no. Experts had already called that advice bogus. The so-called triangle zone wasn't safe. I looked out at the lawn. "We're on the third floor. Jump now, and we might actually make it!" Everyone froze for half a second. Then they started climbing out the windows. Everyone but Tristan Dodd, my childhood best friend. He bolted straight for the triangle zone. I ran after him, grabbed him, and dragged him out the window with me. He walked away without a scratch. I shattered my leg. After that, Tristan acted like I'd hung the moon. He took care of me every day, and after graduation, we ended up together. Then Rainee found out. She got drunk, fell into a lake, and drowned. The second Tristan heard, he shoved me off a cliff. "If I didn't owe you my life, you really think I would've picked you? She was right. This is all your fault!" When I opened my eyes, I was back at the exact moment he ran for the triangle zone. 'He wants to die this time? Fine by me.'

There are certain things one should never mess with. Like someone else's final exam revision notes, for example. Or a life-saving online calculus course. And a chicken curry meal ordered by a college student who has been starving for eight whole hours.

I'm an orphan too broke to even cover my own college tuition. But I happen to have the exact same face as Cassandra Ashford, heiress to one of the richest families in the city! The young lady sitting across from me, the one wearing my face, slapped a bank card down on the table. "Sixty grand for living expenses. Another three hundred thousand once the job's done." She wanted me to take her place at a business school. The goal: to blow up her arranged marriage to her fiance, Julian Sinclair. Cassandra said she hadn't laid eyes on the guy since she was seven, so I could go ahead without a worry. She was off to chase true love. I thought about the old director lying gravely ill in the hospital, and the orphanage that was one bad month away from shutting down. I said yes without a second's hesitation. What I never saw coming was the first day of school. Riding my rented city bike, I plowed straight into the car of the guy showing up to enroll on the same day: Julian Sinclair. The window rolled down, revealing a face so gorgeous it should have been illegal. Julian stared at my face and let out a cold scoff. "Cassandra." "Haven't seen you in over a decade, and you've already learned to fake a fender-bender for cash?"

"Anna, you don't look so good. Want some candy?" The class belle smiled sweetly as she held out a bag of fruit candies. In my previous life, I ate one. That very night, every penny in my bank account vanished—including the money I'd saved to pay for Grandpa's lifesaving surgery. Desperate to afford his treatment, I gave up my acceptance to Oxvale University and worked myself to the bone day and night, but before I could save enough, he died. And eventually, so did I, alone and exhausted in my tiny rented room. Only after I died did I learn the truth. The class belle had bonded with a transfer system. As long as I ate something she gave me, whatever money was in my bank account would automatically be transferred to hers. Now that I had been given a second chance, I stared at the candy she held out and reached for it. If she wanted other people's money badly, then I'd find out just how much her system could swallow—30 classmates' bank accounts. All at once.

In the sponsorship group chat, I notice someone has used their aid money to buy the latest LV handbag. I send a friendly reminder in the group chat, saying, "Please use the financial aid for your studies and avoid unnecessary spending just to keep up with others." Ella Lowe, the campus belle, immediately makes a post online to attack me. "He's sponsoring all these poor students because he wants to find a sugar baby! He's only doing it because he wants our bodies!" I am left stunned. For the past five years, I have never interfered with their personal lives and simply tried to help students who can't afford an education. Yet these indignant university students actually report me to the Charity Federation. I have helped dozens of students in the group chat, yet none of them steps up to defend me. The moment I receive the formal notice to investigate my motives, I instantly drop a statement in the group chat. "I'm withdrawing all sponsorships effective immediately in order to avoid any suspicion and prove my innocence." Less than ten minutes after sending the message, the group chat erupts into full-blown panic.

When my online boyfriend insisted on receiving a picture of me, the class belle, Callista Xavery, snatched my phone from my hand. She said, “You’re a real wrecking ball. He’ll run for the hills the second he sees you. Just send a photo of me instead. That way you won’t scare him off.” My other classmates also mocked me, saying, “You’re out here dripping grease and still trying to online date? That’s straight-up catfishing.” I pinched the thickness around my fat and hesitated about whether I should really send a photo of Callista or not. Just then, a barrage of floating words flashed before my eyes. [That fat girl’s online boyfriend is a top-tier Claremont trust-fund heir who loves flexing by throwing cash around.] [That pretty heroine’s already aware of that. That’s why she’s trying to make that fat girl send a photo of her.] [That way, she can smoothly take the fat girl’s place at the meetup, get spoiled rotten by the rich boy from then on, and start cashing six-figure transfers on the regular.] I was stunned for a moment before quickly snatching my phone back. I then dug out a photo of myself from three years ago and said, “No need. After all, once I lose this weight, I’ll be much prettier than you.”

The prettiest girl in school came from a low‑income family and always struggled with insecurity. To build up her confidence, every boy in our class bent over backward to give her whatever she wanted. Right before college entrance exams, she pointed at me and said, "I'll never be smart enough to get into the same school as Ivy." The boys locked me away on exam day, all so a girl who ranked last in class could end up at the same school as me. "Bree can't take another blow to her self‑esteem. You're smart enough that one gap year won't hurt you. You could still get into a top university next year. But this year, you have to match her score." I fought with everything I had to reach the exam hall, yet the man guarding me hit too hard and killed me. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day Bree Callister said she wanted to go to the same school as me.

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.

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."