Chapter 4
Before I could even process it, a strong gust kicked up, flinging my things all over the place.
"Whoa, is she a total player? Hoarding all that black lace?"
"You don't know—that's the innocent-yet-tempting style. Those girls are the ones who really know how to have fun."
Raphael gawked at the mess, rooted to the spot.
I swallowed back the tears welling up and knelt down, trying to salvage whatever scraps of pride I had left.
But the wind was out to get me.
Another whoosh, and one bra drifted up, plopping right onto some guy's head.
The group burst into laughs and hoots like "Damn, manna from heaven!"
Regret flashed across Raphael's face. He shuffled forward awkwardly to help me up, but I slapped his hand away.
Right then, Elise started sucking in air through her teeth, wincing loudly.
It jolted Raphael back. He yanked his hand away and told me, "Melba, all your stuff... I'll buy you new ones. I need to get Elise to the hospital now."
And just like that, he and Darnell propped her up and rushed off.
Curtis wordlessly gathered my key documents and passed them to me.
He studied me for what felt like forever, then finally asked, "Melba, be straight with me—you didn't push her, did you?"
Even he doubted me.
From that day forward, my reputation went straight down the drain—people were pointing and whispering everywhere I went, and I picked up a new nickname, "Black Lace Campus Beauty."
Naturally, I fought back.
I spotted a security camera on a nearby lamppost that might've caught the whole scene.
I hounded the admin office for days, begging and badgering until they finally handed over the footage from that afternoon.
It showed crystal clear that I hadn't laid a finger on Elise.
I shared the video in our group chat.
Raphael responded first.
[I shouldn't have tossed your suitcase that day—that was on me. But one thing doesn't cancel the other. Elise never accused you of pushing her. Jumping to clear your name like this just makes you seem defensive.]
I'd already suspected explanations were a waste of time, but it still stung.
I took the 30 thousand dollars he transferred me in a private message as compensation, then blocked him.
There'd been a time when all that special treatment and shielding was reserved for me.
Having experienced it once only made it hit harder that it was gone for good.
I thought back to when we were kids, visiting this super strict relative's house.
Out of sheer curiosity, I'd snuck into the study and fiddled with an antique cello, accidentally snapping a string.
That cello was the guy's absolute treasure—everyone lost it.
When he stormed in, demanding to know who'd done it, Raphael was the first to own up.
"Sorry—it was me. I was curious about how the cello was built and broke the string by mistake. Uncle, it's my fault!"
Curtis and Darnell piled on immediately, chiming in together, "It was all three of us! Melba's such a scaredy-cat—she's already in tears from us freaking her out."
Afterward, their parents gave them all a good spanking, but not one of them ratted me out.
Back then, I'd struck up a friendship with a new guy at school.
We'd hang out constantly, and sometimes I'd blow off the others.
They'd take turns cornering me, asking if I'd ditched them for good.
I just found it hilarious at the time.
But after that mess, I slowly pulled away from the boy.
My nose started to sting with the memory.
The truth had never been the key factor, anyway.
"If the truth doesn't matter, then what does?"
My college roommate wasn't buying it at all.
The second she saw the proof, she blasted it across the campus forum.
She even snipped out Elise's smug taunt right before the fall, side by side with her award-winning act afterward, and posted the comparison on the campus board.
The title cut right to the chase: [Cheap Tricks, But They Work.]
The tide of opinion turned in a flash.
Most folks couldn't stomach that sort of manipulative bitchy nonsense, so Elise scored her own moniker—Bitch.
She hogged the limelight entirely, leaving me in the dust.
That day, Darnell ambushed me.
He fidgeted and stalled forever before finally saying, "Melba, can't you two quit tearing each other down? Elise's had it rough, you know."
When he saw my stone-faced reaction, he rushed to elaborate.
"She grew up with just her grandpa in some really harsh spot, but she's stayed so kind, always tackling life head-on with a smile..."
I interrupted him. "How would you know? You been there yourself?"