Chapter 2
After school, I quietly trailed after Emma.
Outside an activity room, I overheard her chatting with those noble friends of hers.
The guy who chatted me up earlier now sounded pretty down. "I messed up today."
The guys burst out laughing.
"Mr. Parker, losing your touch? Can't even score with a girl from the slums?" one of them jeered.
"Come on, Benjamin, you've had three girls get abortions for you. Your track record's legendary. Nobody's gonna think less of you just because you blew it this time," another guy snickered.
Emma wasn't interested in their banter and said, "In this year's blind box dating game, we picked Charlotte. One of you needs to date her, and when she's riding high, destroy her."
The boys, who usually looked so polished and charming, now seemed like hideous monsters, showing their true colors with nasty, predatory grins.
"Relax. Every girl we've targeted has ended up conquered. This so-called Charlotte won't be any exception," one of them sneered.
"Exactly, if Mr. Parker can't pull it off, we'll just switch it up. With so many of us, someone's bound to break her," another chimed in.
"Worst case, we've still got Damon. No way he can't take her down," a third guy added.
Emma's voice rose sharply. "No. Anyone can do it, but not Damon."
Everyone started hooting and hollering.
"Whoa, looks like Ms. Sinclair's jealous," someone jeered.
"Man, talk about possessive," another snickered.
All hell broke loose in the room.
Outside, I kept chewing over that name in my head. My fingers idly picked at the wall, leaving behind a crescent-shaped mark.
Damon Wolfe was one of them, too. That was great.
Over the next few days, my popularity with guys exploded overnight.
All sorts of young heirs paraded in front of me, each trying to catch my eye.
There were the gentle types, the calm ones, the mysterious, the bad boys, the refined ones, and those who could be tough one moment and gentle the next.
They all came up with every possible excuse just to strike up a conversation with me.
Without exception, every single one of them was after the same thing. They all wanted to get close to me.
But I just brushed them off, acting all awkward and blank. "Sorry, I gotta go study."
When one was a senior, nothing shut people down faster than that excuse. Their faces when I shot them down were priceless.
Whenever I got tired of studying, I'd replay those moments in my head and just laugh. I couldn't help but feel secretly delighted.
Meanwhile, Emma was losing it, lashing out at me with even more viciousness.
She'd wave scissors around, hacking at my hair, then jab me with needles, leaving tiny bloody holes all over my skin.
She'd strip me naked and toss me into the pool, then smear industrial-strength glue all over the railing so I couldn't climb out.
To escape, I had to rip off a layer of skin, my hands dripping with blood and torn flesh as I tried to put my clothes back on.
These rich kids were seriously creative when it came to making my life hell.
They had all kinds of subtle, sneaky ways to torment me, stuff one would never notice or be able to prove.
They made sure there was no way I could ever call them out or get help.
Plus, their families had a serious influence. Each one poured money into the school.
As long as it wasn't outright illegal, the teachers would just turn a blind eye.
Just like I had for the past three years, I bit down and took it again.
At long last, Monday arrived after a week of waiting.
With the start of a new week, I finally welcomed the person I'd been longing to meet.
The aloof top student, Damon, finally made his appearance in the deserted study room. He took a seat right beside me and lingered there for a long while.
Finally, Damon pointed at my chemistry paper and said, "You got this one wrong. Potassium dichromate is a strong oxidizing agent. You can't use an alkaline burette for it."