Chapter 1

During the mid-morning break, right in front of half the boys in our class, she grabbed the hem of my skirt and yanked it up.

"Wow. Lace today?" she said loudly. "Didn't know you were into that. Such a slut."

She laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. A few guys whistled. Phones came out. I heard camera clicks, one after another.

In my last life, I had run to the bathroom and cried until my throat hurt. By the end of the day, she was telling everyone, "I couldn't take a joke".

Nasty rumors began to spread. I dropped out of school before the semester ended. And she took my scholarship and used it to secure a guaranteed spot in a top university.

This time, I didn't freeze. I looked at her smiling face and reached for the box cutter in my desk.

Before she could react, I grabbed her wrist, shoved her down onto a desk, and pressed the blade against the clasp of her bra through her blouse.

"If everyone's so curious," I said evenly, "let's give them a better show."

I flicked my wrist. Fabric tore. Her top split open.

"Don't scream," I added, copying her playful tone. "We're just having fun. We're both girls, right?"

I picked up one of the phones that had been recording and aimed it at her face. She wasn't laughing anymore.

"So," I asked quietly, "what angle do you want?"

*****

Emily Lane's scream ripped through the classroom. "Nina! What is wrong with you?"

She clutched at her chest, trying to cover the expensive lingerie she had clearly chosen on purpose that morning.

I retracted the blade and let the cutter fall to the floor. It hit with a sharp metallic click.

Then I raised my hand and slapped myself across the face hard.

The sound echoed. My cheek started swelling almost immediately.

"I'm sorry," I said, lowering my head.

My voice shook. "Emily, I didn't mean to. I just... I panicked. I was scared."

The room went silent.

Even Emily stopped yelling.

She probably expected me to keep going and to lose it completely.

Instead, I looked like a girl who had just snapped after being humiliated.

The boys who had been laughing a minute ago now stared at each other, unsure where to look.

"You pulled up my skirt," I said, my voice breaking. "They were filming me. I just reacted without thinking."

Tears spilled down my face, real enough to sting.

I sobbed, "I know I messed up. I'm really sorry. Can you please forgive me?"

Everyone knew Emily.

Every guy in our grade had a crush on her. Teachers loved her.

She was the sweet one, the kind one, and the girl who always smiled.

Right now, her blouse was torn, and I was standing there with a red handprint on my own face, apologizing.

If she pushed harder, if she kept attacking me, that image would crack.

She saw it too. Her jaw tightened. She looked at my swollen cheek and watery eyes.

She had no choice.

"Forget it," she said finally, forcing her voice to soften. "Nina, I know you didn't mean it."

She smoothed her hair, trying to recover some dignity.

She added, "We're classmates. Just try not to overreact next time, okay?"

See? Perfectly gracious.

When the faculty advisor rushed into the classroom, this was what he saw.

Emily was standing there in torn clothes, crying like she'd been wronged.

I had a bright red handprint on my face, apologizing through tears.

"What is going on?" he demanded.

One of Emily's friends jumped in immediately and gave her version of the story.

Well, that was a carefully edited one.

She described how I "lost control" and used a blade to ruin Emily's clothes.

She conveniently skipped the part where Emily had lifted my skirt in front of half the class.

"Nina. Office. Now." The advisor's face was flushed with anger.

I lowered my head and followed him out.

As I passed Emily, she leaned closer and whispered so only I could hear, "You're done. Start packing."

I didn't respond.

Because I knew this was only the beginning.

Last time, this was exactly how it started. One small humiliation at a time until I was pushed out entirely.

This time, I would be the one doing the pushing.

I wasn't going to fight her at her worst. I was going to wait until she was at her best, smiling and admired, and then take it all away.

In the office, the advisor didn't even sit down before he started yelling. "You brought a blade onto campus. You assaulted a classmate. Nina, what were you thinking?"

"She—" I tried to explain.

"Stop." He slammed his hand on the desk. "Emily already told me you panicked. She's the one asking us to be lenient, and you still want to argue?"

He wasn't listening.

He continued, "This is serious. You'll receive a public disciplinary notice. You will write a formal apology and read it in front of the entire department tomorrow.

"And your parents are coming in."

I lowered my eyes.

There it was.

It was the exact same sequence as before: public condemnation, a forced apology, and parents being called in.

Each step was designed to break me down.

When I stepped out of the building, I almost ran straight into my boyfriend, Zak Thomson.

He was president of the student council.

"Nina, I heard what happened. Are you okay?" He grabbed my shoulders, scanning my face.

Last time, he'd asked the same thing.

And after I'd cried and explained everything, he said, "She didn't mean it. Emily jokes around. You took it too seriously. You shouldn't have used the knife."

I looked at him now—the same handsome face, the same blind certainty.

"Zak," I said calmly. "We're done."