Chapter 2

Frankie: [My advisor just said my speech was pretty good and wants to recommend me for the state competition. You write me another one and have it ready in three days.]

He sounded like it was my job to do whatever he asked, just as arrogant and impatient as always when he threw last-minute tasks my way.

I fired back: [Were you born without hands or something? If writing's beyond you, then don't bother entering. Seriously, you're a joke.]

With that, I blocked him on WhatsApp.

For once since he got sick, I actually told him no—and honestly, I couldn't help but feel a wicked sense of satisfaction.

Frankie called me right away.

He didn't even wait for me to say hello before he started shouting.

"Irene, did you seriously just block me on WhatsApp? What's wrong with you now? Get my speech done—like, yesterday!"

I used to just let things slide for his sake. But this time, I snapped and yelled even louder than he did.

"Who says I can't block you? You're the one losing it, screaming at me like a maniac!" I shouted.

Frankie had never heard me talk to him like that before. He was so stunned, he just froze, completely speechless.

"Frankie, listen up. From now on, we're through—don't even think about coming to me for anything ever again." I practically spat the words out, making sure he knew I meant business.

I hung up, no hesitation, then blocked him everywhere—phone, WhatsApp, you name it.

Out of nowhere, I felt an itchy tingle on that scar across my face.

I grabbed my compact and took a closer look, surprised to see that the mark—pale for who knows how long—was suddenly starting to go red again.

Besides, it was lunchtime, so I pushed the thought away and made a beeline for the cafeteria.

The cafeteria was buzzing today.

Maybe it was because it was the start of the semester, but upperclassmen were everywhere, handing out flyers like crazy.

There were all kinds of clubs and student council groups trying to recruit new members.

But what really got everyone hyped was the upcoming Campus Queen Contest—our year's beauty pageant was about to start.

One of the upperclassmen had actually climbed up onto a table, hollering at the top of his lungs.

"Ladies, listen up! This year's Campus Queen Contest is kicking off soon! Wanna join? Grab a registration form from me! The champion doesn't just take home a massive cash prize—she also scores a direct deal with the university's partner company as their official brand ambassador!"

The room exploded with excitement, and every single flyer disappeared in a flash.

"No way! The Campus Queen Contest? I never thought I'd actually get to witness something like this!"

"It says just signing up gets you a prize, so let's go! Even if we're just here for the freebies, it's worth it."

"What if the judges somehow crown me champion? Whatever, I'm signing up!"

"I'm freaking out, I can't even eat lunch—give me a form, hurry!"

But not everyone was buying it.

"Hey, have you guys heard about Dayana Spears from the journalism department? She's drop-dead gorgeous—got snapped by a bunch of reporters on orientation day."

"Yeah, I know! Her pics are all over the internet, and she's super popular. A lot of the upperclassmen say she's the prettiest girl they've ever seen at this school."

"I've seen her in person—she's Frankie's girlfriend, the guy who gave that speech today. With someone like her entering, why bother? Honestly, we should just give up and go crash."

As soon as those words hit the air, a bunch of people just deflated, tossing their flyers on the floor and heading off to get lunch.

One of the flyers just fluttered down and landed by my shoes.

I crouched and grabbed it.

Campus Queen Contest—the winner scored a straight-up deal with the Mirellion Group, getting crowned as their new brand ambassador.

Suddenly curious, I pulled out my phone, scanned the code, and signed myself up on the spot.

That afternoon, I was in the lecture hall, working through math problems.

A guy from my class burst in, still panting from basketball.

He hurried to the seat behind me, grabbed his water bottle, and gulped it down. After a big breath, he suddenly blurted out, "Damn!"

He startled me, and I turned around. "What's up?"

He quickly swallowed and waved his hands, flustered.

"Oh, sorry, I must've been seeing things. From the side, you looked really pretty, for a second."

He paused for a second, then leaned closer, suddenly looking really serious.

"Irene, did you do your makeup today? You look so much prettier than before, and that scar on your face is way lighter now."

I froze for a second, tempted to pull out my compact and check myself. But just then, a bunch of classmates walked in, so I quickly stuffed it back in my bag.

Years of being the target of snide remarks had made me almost pathologically insecure and sensitive about my appearance.

I was always on edge, terrified someone might spot me looking in a mirror—because I knew exactly what they'd say.

"Ugly girls are always looking for attention."

Just then, Frankie and Dayan walked in.

Honestly, I thought it was strange—Dayana wasn't even in our department, but here she was in class with Frankie.

The moment I saw them, I instinctively lowered my head.

But I could hear their footsteps sounding sharper than ever, stopping right in front of me.