Chapter 3
It wasn't until eighth grade that I finally learned why Sarah had isolated me.
It was Chloe Mason who told me.
She was from the next homeroom, and we'd met in the library.
Over these three years, she was the only one willing to talk to me.
"You seriously don't know?" Chloe's eyes widened in disbelief.
I shook my head.
"Sarah's mom is the PTA President."
"Yeah, I know."
"But did you ever hear that, right at the start of the school year, the PTA put together a little gift for the teachers?"
I shook my head.
"Every parent had to chip in 300 dollars, supposedly for Teacher's Day. But your mom opted out."
I froze.
"My mom had no idea about this."
"Your mom was the only one who didn't pay," Chloe said, looking at me. "And then, Ms. Quinn... well, you know how it goes."
I didn't say anything.
"Later, Sarah's mom posted in the parent group, saying some parents refused to cooperate with class initiatives. Not long after, Ms. Quinn told the whole class that you didn't fit in.
"And that was when Sarah led everyone to shut you out entirely."
Just because of 300 dollars.
I was completely ostracized by everyone.
Just because my mom didn't chip in for the gift.
I sat in the library, silent for a long time.
Chloe watched me carefully, as if afraid I might break. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." I forced a smile. "I finally know why."
When I got home, I didn't tell my mom.
She was in the kitchen cooking and called me to have dinner. "I made your favorite today. Beef steak."
I watched her back as she moved around the kitchen.
She was raising me all on her own. My dad had been gone for three years.
She worked as a cashier at the supermarket, pulling in 1,200 dollars a month.
Three hundred dollars was a week of her wages.
And just because of those 300 dollars, my homeroom teacher made everyone in class ostracize me.
That night, I opened my notebook and filled in the "Reason" section with a new line: [Ella gave Sarah the signal to leave me out, all because my mom didn't chip in 300 dollars for the Teacher's Day present.]
Then I flipped to a fresh page and wrote at the top: [Evidence List.]
From today on, recording alone wasn't enough. I needed proof.
The next day, I spent two months' worth of saved-up allowance to buy a voice recorder.
It was tiny, fastened to the inside of my school uniform, completely unnoticeable.
From that day on, I recorded everything: every class, every conversation, and every instance of being bullied.
By the second semester of eighth grade, Ella got even worse.
The quarterly exam results came out, and I ranked third in the entire grade.
Ella stood before the class and read off the top grade rankings aloud.
"First place, Sarah..."
A round of applause broke out.
"Second place, Olivia..."
More clapping followed.
"Third place..."
She paused.
"Next, fourth place, Daniel..."
She skipped right over my name.
She completely ignored the third place for the entire grade.
I sat in the back row, staring at her.
She didn't look at me.
After class, I headed to her office.
"Ms. Quinn, you skipped my name when you announced the rankings."
She kept her head down, without looking at me. "Oh, I forgot."
"I got third place for the entire grade."
"Yeah, I know." She kept her paperwork. "I'll remember next time."
I stood there, silent, for three seconds. "Ms. Quinn, you didn't just forget."
She looked up at me. "What do you mean?"
"You have a list every time with everyone's names and rankings. You didn't forget. You just skipped me on purpose."
Her expression changed. "Isabella, what's with your attitude?"
"I'm just telling the truth."
"You..." Ms. Quinn took a deep breath. "Get out."
I walked out of her office.
The recorder hidden in my uniform kept blinking its red light.
A week later, something even more outrageous happened.
Chloe secretly sent me a screenshot.
It was a message Ella posted to other parents in a group chat: [Isabella is a rather unsocialable child. I suggest parents guide their children not to be influenced by her.]
"Not to be influenced by her" basically meant everyone should keep their kids away from me, which she said straight to other parents in the group chat.
All the parents saw it.
No wonder once at the school gate, a student's mom grabbed her kid and hurried past me, whispering, "That's her."
I saved the screenshot and opened up a folder. There were already 23 screenshots saved inside: chat logs, group messages, and social media posts.
All related to my ostracization.
All pointed to one person.
Ella.
But that wasn't even the worst part.
The most messed-up thing I didn't learn until ninth grade.