Mga Maiikling Kwento tungkol sa Plot Twists at mga Nobela ng Independence na may Campus

While we're shopping for college supplies, my younger brother, Reuben Whitaker, picks up a limited-edition gaming bedding set and grins at Mom. She doesn't even glance at the price before putting it in the cart. When it's my turn, I barely pick up a charcoal-gray bedding set when my older sister, Cheryl Whitaker, frowns. "Garrett, why do you always choose such gloomy colors? You need to be more upbeat like Reuben," she scolds. My childhood friend, Phoebe Thorpe, smiles as well. "No one at the dorm knows you anyway, so buying something new will be a waste," she says. Reuben glances at the sheets in my hands and quietly suggests, "Garrett, why don't you use my old set? You never cared about things like that anyway." Mom immediately nods in agreement. "Garrett, you don't need new sheets. Besides, putting two sons through college isn't easy." My grip slowly tightens around the set. I remember Reuben's old bedding. The corners are covered in pills, and the fabric is stained with soda he spills during his late-night gaming sessions. It has always been this way. I get the designer sneakers he no longer wants, the backpacks he's grown tired of, and the bedroom he doesn't like. If I don't complain or fight him for anything, my turn will eventually come. At least that's what I think. But even after 18 years, their only response is, "You never cared about things like that anyway." At the register, I watch Mom pay for Reuben's things one by one before casually tossing my charcoal-gray sheets back onto the shelf. It's then that my lips curl into a smile. As it turns out, no one has ever bothered to remember what I like. I pick up the charcoal-gray sheets again. This time, I won't put them back.

I am timid by nature but have this strange sleep disorder where I immediately fall asleep when scared. However, what nobody else knows is that after I fall asleep, a split personality will awaken and take over my body. That split personality is also prone to violence. When I was eight, a fierce dog scared me so much that I fell asleep on the spot. When I woke up again, the dog was whimpering in a corner, clearly terrified of me. When I was 17, a robber accosted me. When I opened my eyes next, he was clutching a police officer's legs as he begged to be taken away and thrown into jail. All these years, I have tried my best to remain calm, so no other accidents happen again. That is, until I enter university and am placed into the same dorm room as the campus hunk, Theodore Caldman. During the welcome party, he corners me in the equipment room. With a pair of scissors in hand and a malicious smile, he says, "You always dress so tackily, yet you still dared to hit on my girlfriend? I'm going to ruin that pretty face of yours! Let's see how you'll seduce others again!" My legs turn to jelly, and I stammer out, "I-I'm not the sort who likes to cause trouble, but if you scare me so much, when I fall asleep, things are going to get real ugly…" He punches me in response. "What's with the tough guy act?" With that, my eyes roll back as I fall asleep. Theodore barely gets a smug laugh out when I suddenly spring up from where I was prone on the floor. Even though my eyes are still shut, I seize him by the neck and lift him into the air with one hand. Ten minutes later, the security guard kicks open the door to the equipment room, only to see a beaten and bloodied Theodore, kneeling on the ground and singing nursery rhymes. Meanwhile, I am leaning against the wall off to one corner, snoring softly.

When I missed the passing grade by one point, my best friend dragged me to a bar. She said there was nothing a drink couldn't fix. I drank until I blacked out. When I woke up, a man lay beside me, all cool eyes and tightly leashed control. I left two hundred dollars on the nightstand and ran for my life. I thought I'd never see him again. Then, on the first day of the new semester, the class I'd failed had a new professor. I looked up at the podium. The man from that night stood at the lectern, opened the roster, and read my name in a cool, even voice. "Vivian Harper, come see me in my office tomorrow." The color drained from my face. Convinced he was here for payback, I stayed up all night writing a transfer application. The next day, I clutched my transfer application all the way to his office. Before I could work up the nerve to speak, he pulled out a sheet of paper and studied me with an unreadable expression. "I've read the assignment you turned in." "Care to explain why a positive pregnancy test was bound into your term paper?"

During a group assignment, I'm trying to speak up with my ideas. My boyfriend and our childhood friend are flipping through sheet music, heads down, deep in a heated discussion about ensemble pieces. Halfway through, they finally notice I'm still standing beside them. Reid Sullivan and Aria Merrill glance at the sheet music in my hands and look at me like they don't know what to do with me. "Your fundamentals are way too weak for the ensemble, so don't even bother. Just toss that scrap paper." "Yeah, and you've got such a great eye anyway. Just stick to taking our photos and editing our videos." I grip the sheet music I've spent all night writing while fighting back tears. The three of us are childhood friends. They love music and never run out of things to talk about. I love art, can't carry a tune, and can never get a word in. So, everything I put in just gets brushed off as scrap paper. After class, they fall into step together and head for the practice room without even noticing I'm not trailing behind them like I always do. I crouch in the hallway, staring at nothing. If they don't see any value in me, then I should just leave. So, I wipe my tears and stand up. After tossing the sheet music into the trash, I dial a number. "Cedric, is what you said before still on the table? "I've made up my mind. I'm transferring to the art school and studying abroad."

I used to be the cockiest rich kid in high society, but somehow I became the biggest simp in the whole circle. It was all because I was bound to a heroine conquest system. If I failed, I would be finished. To stay alive, I had no choice but to do everything Samantha said and constantly try to please her. Knowing I could give her anything she wanted, she took the sports car I gave her and went for a drive with her childhood friend, Charles Lindsey. Then she left me alone on the highway in the middle of a violent storm. "Samantha, my asthma is acting up. My medicine is in the car. Can you come back and get me?" She gave a cold, mocking laugh. I could also hear Charles laughing on the phone. "Walk home yourself. There’s no room in the car for you." With only ten seconds left to live, I finally snapped. "You stupid system! How can a woman this cruel be the heroine? I want to switch targets!" The system froze for a long moment before a notification appeared. "Target has seriously deviated from the assigned character profile. Select a new target within five seconds!" In a panic, I pointed at the thin, miserable-looking figure in the distance. "New target selected: Destined Villain. Confirm?" I shouted with all the strength I had left. "Her! I choose her!"

There is a dead mouse stuck in the air conditioning unit during summer, filling the classroom with a foul odor. Henry Hudson, my homeroom teacher, instantly blames it on me, saying I don't shower. He mocks me for reeking of pigs and polluting the air in the classroom since Mom and Dad raise pigs for a living. He even insists that Mom and Dad sell our pigs to buy new air conditioners for the classroom. I flush with shame as I repeatedly insist that I shower every single day, but my classmates still mock me and call me "Stinker Tucker". I am forced to transfer to another school after enduring the endless insults and hostile glares from countless people. Years later, I head a major biopharmaceutical company that houses numerous talented innovation teams. It is through a rigorous screening process that a team led by a young PhD graduate, fresh out of his studies abroad, emerges on top. I plan to allocate 20 million dollars in funding to him because of his stellar resume and expertise, which is exactly what we need for our project. I, however, instantly call my assistant over after seeing the name listed among his family details. "Disqualify him from the selection, have him get his final pay from finance, and show him the door. I don't need the son of a crook working in my company."

I was a two-hundred-pound girl. But on the night of graduation, I slept with Nova, captain of the Ashbury Ravens hockey team. The next morning, laughter drifted down the hotel hallway from his teammates. "Nova slipped his room key to Sienna last night, right?" "What, you think he'd give it to the Zamboni? That tub of lard. One look at her gives you nightmares for three days." "Did you guys see her reporter's notebook? It's covered in Nova's name. She's actually got a crush on Nova. Disgusting." So the room key that had slipped into my notebook wasn't meant for me. And the name he murmured against me in the dark wasn't mine either. My eyes burned with humiliation. I got dressed, walked out alone, and disappeared for six years. Six years later, my mother, Diane Quinn, was three months behind on her dialysis bills, and the sports website I worked for was on its last legs. My editor, Claire Bennett, slapped a file on my desk. "Nova. Newly crowned MVP. Not one interview in six years. Land him, or you're out."

My dorm mate, Chloe Dawson, had a sweet voice, but she wasn't very pretty. She loved online dating and had four online boyfriends at the same time. She looked at me with a smug smile. "Ivy, no guy ever wants you. How about I give you one of my boyfriends? He wants to meet me today anyway." I was about to refuse when strange words suddenly appeared in front of me. [Heroine, don't give the villainess the male lead's contact info! Sure, you used her photos to get his attention online, but he's not that shallow. He loves you for who you are!] [The villainess is just a poor student on financial aid. How could someone like her ever take the heroine's place and date the male lead?] [Exactly! Heroine, don't do anything stupid! The male lead is Nathan Ashworth, CEO of the Ashworth Group! You can't just hand a great guy like him over to someone else!]

I'm reviewing a math practice test the night before the college entrance exam when I spot a chunk of red text that shouldn't be there. "At 10:00 pm, your sister's classmate, Britney Lowe, will come to your house asking to stay the night. She'll say she had a fight with her parents and has nowhere else to go." "At 2:00 am, she'll sneak into your room, then call the police at dawn and accuse you of assaulting her." "The police will arrest you, and you'll be sentenced to three years in prison. Your younger sister, Lizzie Brown, will become the target of school gossip, and unable to face the online bullying, she'll jump to her death." I frown as I read it, assuming it's some kind of prank. But right on schedule, the doorbell rings. There's Britney, standing in the doorway, her eyes red from crying. Lizzie freezes. "Britney? What are you doing here?" "Lizzie, I fought with my parents and don't really have anywhere to go. Can I stay at your place tonight?" I stand in the living room, watching it unfold. A chill runs down my back. The prediction in my workbook is actually coming true. I quickly look down at the workbook lying open on the table. The last line of red text is still there. "Once the police take you away, your spot at Bayfield College will go to Britney's boyfriend." I stride over to the door and turn her away without hesitation. "Sorry, Britney, but we'll be staying at a hotel tonight."

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."

My boyfriend Noah Carter and I had a plan: turn our college's fourteen-day outdoor orientation into a fourteen-episode documentary series about us. For the eleventh time, Noah left me alone on the training field. His childhood friend Claire Moore had called him in tears, saying she'd been vomiting and was lying in the camp clinic alone and scared. Waiting for him to come back, I missed the camp's only sunset team drill and the closing long take I'd spent two weeks preparing. That evening, he sent me a photo. Claire sat in a dessert shop outside camp, a smoothie and a slice of strawberry cake in front of her, cheeks pink and looking happier than anyone else in the place. Noah texted back: "The nurse said it's just stomach cramps. Relaxing will help her recover faster. I took her out for some air. Don't overthink it." Before, I would have asked when he was coming back. This time, I crossed "Couples Finale" off the Day Fourteen script and replaced it with two words. "Just me." The next day, he came rushing over to tell me Claire had a fever. I set up the camera for a solo shot without even looking up. "Noah, you don't have to report to me every time. From now on, where you go and who you choose to be with have nothing to do with me." He finally panicked. What he didn't know was that that night, I hadn't just canceled our orientation series. I'd scrapped every plan I'd ever made for a life with him.

"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.

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.

A rare chase figure popped out of my blind box and somehow bound itself to me through an empathy link. Two days later, the doll vanished. During class, I suddenly felt two warm hands stroking my neck. A shiver ran through me. Damn it! Whoever has my empathy doll is putting their hands all over it. Before I could react, those hands slid lower and squeezed my breasts. A rush of tingling pleasure flooded my body. I reached out to stop them without thinking. The sudden movement made the cold, serious young professor at the front of the room turn to look at me. With one hand in his pocket, he pointed at the formula on the board. "Dalia, come and solve it." I had barely taken two steps when a finger suddenly brushed against the sensitive slit between my legs. I wasn't used to being touched, so I couldn't take the sudden stimulation. My knees buckled, and a moan slipped out…

On the third night after Seraphina Vale—the academy's most envied beauty—took her own life, a blood ledger appeared out of nowhere in the abandoned chapel of St. Ophelia's Academy. Rumor had it that if you left a blood print on it, the ledger would grant your deepest wish. At first, nobody bought such a ridiculous story. Until Vivian Cross—all two hundred and twenty pounds of her—shakily made her choice: beauty. She dropped the weight overnight. Her features turned so delicate people couldn't look away. Just like that, she became the academy's new obsession. After that, no one called the blood ledger bad luck anymore. Dorian Blackwood chose his future, and the Black Council's recommendation came through immediately. Someone else chose wealth, and their family's debts were wiped clean overnight. Everyone's dreams came true. My best friend Nora Ellsworth started to waver too. She wanted to sign the blood ledger, to bring her brother back from bloodwither. But I stopped her. I wouldn't let her leave a blood print—not for anything. The people around us closed in right away. "You don't have anyone sick and dying, so of course you can stand there and act like you're above it all!" "If Nora's brother dies, you're the murderer!" Even Nora looked at me with red-rimmed eyes, demanding to know why I was so cruel—why I'd cut off her brother's only chance. But I wasn't being cruel. The blood ledger was Seraphina's. I couldn't believe that Seraphina's grudge, even in death, would turn into free mercy. In her death, no one was innocent.

On yearbook photo day, I went over and stood next to my boyfriend, Blake Whitmore. Madison Vance, the cheer captain and sorority president, showed up late, and the crowd parted for her without being asked. A path opened straight to Blake, who stood dead center. "What took you so long? You just turned every head in the place." Blake smiled softly and pulled her into the spot beside him. I was pushed out of the frame. Tyler Brooks, my friend since childhood, caught my arm. "Claire, don't fight Madison for the spot. She's the main character today." Then he traded places with me and took the spot next to her. The crowd started whooping. The fraternity president stood on one side and the vice president on the other, with Madison safely between them. When the group shot was done, the whooping started up again. Blake and Madison had won Cutest Couple in this year's yearbook by a landslide. A hairline crack opened inside my chest, and the cold seeped through it. I was the one dating Blake. Everyone had voted for them anyway. Out on the lawn, the photographer guided the two of them through one close pose after another. Then he called out to us. "Mr. President, where's your fraternity pin? Put it on your queen!" My hand went to the Greek-letter pin over my heart. Blake looked over at me and jogged toward me. "Babe, let me borrow it. Don't be stingy." He took my wrist and moved my hand aside, then removed the pin he'd fastened there himself three years ago. People around us started murmuring. "Oh, that's her. Claire. Blake's girlfriend." "I never even noticed her... She really doesn't stand out." Something in me went hollow, and my hands closed into fists. Your moment of glory has nothing to do with me. So from now on, my life has nothing to do with you.