Chapter 4
"I'm Charlotte Sutton, the student council welcome rep," she chirped, holding out her hand.
Her nails were neatly shaped and painted a soft pink. "You're Emily Sinclair, right? The principal asked me to make sure you're settled in."
I stared at her hand for a couple of seconds, then gave it just the briefest touch before pulling away. "Thanks," I said, keeping my voice neutral.
"Your dorm's in Building B. Come on, I'll show you," Charlotte said, already striding off.
As she turned, the tips of her hair brushed against my cheek, trailing a whiff of expensive perfume. "By the way, do you want to apply for a uniform subsidy?"
"No, that's fine," I answered evenly. "School only cares that we're wearing the same style—they never said it had to be new."
Charlotte's steps faltered ever so slightly before she regained her graceful composure.
The dorm was much nicer than I'd expected—a four-person room with its own bathroom.
My bed was by the window, bathed in sunlight.
Charlotte lingered at the doorway, clearly not planning to step inside.
"Orientation's this morning, ten o'clock in the auditorium," she said, handing me a schedule. "You're in class 1-A, right next to mine. If you need anything, just let me know."
As she turned to leave, a flash of cold glint flickered in her eyes.
The game had just begun.
At the opening ceremony, after the principal's lengthy speech, he announced that the board representative would be giving a speech.
When Vivian walked up the stage in her heels, I dug my nails deep into my palms.
Five years had passed, and she looked more elegant and polished than ever, every gesture radiating the poise of a true socialite.
Her gaze swept past the rows of students below, barely pausing on me, but that fleeting look sent a jolt of nausea through my gut.
"A special welcome to the five students who received full scholarships this year," Vivian said, her voice gentle yet commanding.
"St. John's has always been committed to nurturing talent, no matter where you come from."
The applause thundered through the hall. I saw Charlotte in the front row, sitting up straight with a proud smile on her face.
"At 2 PM, all freshmen should head to the lab building to pick up your course materials," Vivian continued.
"Three outstanding students will be selected to participate in an overseas exchange program sponsored by the Sinclair Corporation."
After the ceremony, Charlotte made a beeline for me. "Emily," she said sweetly, "the lab building's on the east side of campus. It's a bit tricky to find. I'll wait for you by the fountain at two and take you there."
I nodded, returning her fake smile. But from the memories of my last life, I know the lab was actually in the west.
*****
At one fifty-five, I stood in front of the lab on the west side, glanced toward the fountain where Charlotte was waiting, and headed inside.
By the time I finished collecting my materials, it was ten past two. Charlotte finally came running over, gasping for breath.
"Why'd you come here by yourself?" she demanded, cheeks flushed from running. "I've been waiting for half an hour."
"Oh, really?" I feigned surprise, glancing at her. "But the map on the board says the lab is on the west side."
Her face flickered for a moment before she forced a smile. "Guess the student council must've posted it wrong. Sorry about that."
"No problem," I replied with a smile. "I wasn't late anyway."
Round one went to me.
*****
The days that followed were like a silent tug-of-war beneath the surface.
Charlotte's tricks never stopped coming — my locker suddenly wouldn't open, my homework disappeared out of nowhere, and my shoelaces were mysteriously cut during PE.
But every time, I was one step ahead. A master key in my pocket, digital backups of every assignment, spare laces in my bag — she'd never catch me off guard.
On Friday, during chemistry lab, the teacher pushed up his glasses and announced, "You'll be working in pairs according to student ID. Emily and Charlotte, you're together."
A murmur rippled through the classroom. Charlotte strolled over gracefully to the seat beside me and said, "How lucky, huh? Let's ace this."
The experiment was on preparing copper sulfate crystals. Charlotte volunteered to record the data while I handled the procedures.
As I focused on heating the solution, I caught sight of her quietly changing the numbers in our notebook.
"Charlotte," I said suddenly, "could you grab the beaker for me?"
She reached out instinctively, and I used that moment to grab my phone from beneath the table. On the screen, the video was still rolling — clear proof of her little stunt.
Her face went pale. "You—"
"Three point five grams of copper sulfate," I said calmly. "Not two point five. Unless, of course, you want our experiment to fail."
Charlotte bit her lip hard, then silently corrected the numbers.
When the experiment ended, our group produced the most flawless blue crystals in class.
The teacher complimented us. Charlotte smiled stiffly beside me, her face frozen.
*****
After school, I stayed behind in the empty classroom, sorting through my notes. Outside, I heard the click of familiar footsteps.
"Mom, what are you doing here?" Charlotte's voice carried in.
"Just came to see you," Vivian replied, her tone soft and honeyed — the kind that made my chest tighten with anger. "Settling in at the new school alright?"
"Everything's fine, except..." Charlotte's voice dropped to a whisper. "Emily is such a pain. No matter what I do, she always seems to see straight through me."
Vivian's tone turned icy. "How many times have I told you? Don't pull petty tricks. That girl isn't simple."
"But she's just some broke student."
"Listen," Vivian said sharply, lowering her voice, "the principal already did as I asked. She won't be getting any special treatment. You just keep your composure and don't give anyone a reason to point fingers."