Melodramatic 短篇故事與 Freak Campus 小說

I sold my $3,500 top-spec laptop for scrap for seventy dollars. In my last life, my roommate Caleb's laptop crashed right before his senior thesis deadline. "Noah, the submission portal is about to close. Please lend me your laptop!" I agreed without hesitation. Then he forgot to save his work, downloaded malware by mistake, lost his entire thesis, and had to repeat the year. Afterward, his parents and relatives stormed the university, accusing me of sabotaging his laptop because I was jealous of his graduate admission slot. The story blew up online. Everyone called me a vicious, scheming college guy. My father tried to clear my name and was beaten to death by extremists who thought they were defending justice. Because of that stain, every job search collapsed. In the end, I jumped from a building in despair. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the eve of graduation defense. I had just sold the laptop cheap when Caleb came running in, covering his face and crying. "Noah, my laptop died. Lend me yours!" I kept playing on my phone without looking up. "If you're writing your thesis, go use the computer lab. Why come to me?"

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.

A parent in my son's preschool group chat tagged me out of nowhere. "Theo's dad, your son's lunches always look pretty nice. Starting tomorrow, pack one for my daughter too." "I'm not asking for free food. I'll give you ten dollars a day. That adds up. You can make a little extra on the side." I stared at the message, almost laughing from how absurd it was. My son has severe food sensitivities and a fragile stomach. Every ingredient in his meals is specially sourced, and a single lunch costs far more than five hundred dollars to prepare. And this man thought ten dollars could buy it? I replied with two words: "Not happening." The next day, my son came home crying. His lunch had been taken by another child, and the teacher had scolded him for being selfish. Fine. Since they wanted to push this far, I would show them exactly how far I could go.

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

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?"