Chapter 2

I'd just reached the classroom doorway when two classmates blocked my way.

"Hey, fatty," the first classmate said with a nasty smile, "you don't belong in our class anymore."

"Finally," the second added, "we won't have you dragging down our class averages anymore, both in looks or grades."

Their mocking words were met with laughter and agreement from the rest of the class.

Looking past them, I spotted Bonnie, in my body, cuddled up to Felix. She had her head resting on his shoulder in a sickeningly sweet display.

White-hot rage surged through me as I shoved past them and marched straight to Bonnie, grabbing her arm. "Outside. Now," I hissed.

"What the hell, whale? Get your disgusting hands off Miranda!" Felix exploded out of his seat, his open-handed slap catching me completely by surprise.

His voice dropped to a dangerous low as he glared at me. "Miranda is my girlfriend now. Anyone who messes with her will have to answer to me."

Bonnie gave Felix a sweet, placating smile. "Relax, honey. Bonnie just wanted to talk to me." Then she followed me out of the classroom to a quiet corner of the hallway.

A smug smile spread across her face as she said coldly, "From now on, you're Bonnie, and I'm Miranda. There's no going back. You've had eighteen years of good life—now it's my turn."

Her expression turned vicious. "Let's see how high and mighty you act now."

I could tell there was more to her words. "What exactly did you do?" I demanded.

Bonnie's face darkened with cruel satisfaction. "Nothing much. Just struck a bargain with the devil. Now everything that belonged to you is mine, while you get to live as Bonnie, drowning in the filth where you've always belonged."

Staring at the face that used to be mine, I couldn't help but laugh. "Fine. From now on, you're Miranda. I won't fight you for it."

Bonnie, who'd clearly expected me to throw a fit, looked at me in complete shock. "You're serious?"

"Completely serious," I replied calmly. "Hope you get everything you wanted."

From now on, I would be Bonnie. As for Miranda, that identity was someone else's problem now.

Next thing I knew, I was transferred to the class next door—Jerome's class. I had a strong suspicion Bonnie made this happen.

Jerome occupied the very last seat by the window, sitting alone at his single desk.

The homeroom teacher assigned me to the back row, too, though I was placed by the door with two empty seats between me and Jerome.

The students here were noticeably kinder than my previous classmates. Nobody called me "fat cow" or gave me dirty looks—instead, they actually treated me with basic decency.

Literature was my first class in the new classroom, taught by the same teacher from my previous class.

The moment she entered the room and spotted me, her face twisted in obvious disgust, as if I was some kind of bad omen.

Bonnie had always been the worst student in literature class, consistently failing every exam.

When returning tests, the literature teacher would remark sarcastically, "With most questions being multiple choice, I can't understand how some students consistently fail.

"At this rate, I should take gambling advice from them—just bet the opposite of whatever they choose."

As someone who consistently aced literature, I honestly couldn't figure out how anyone could score so poorly.

The teacher looked around the classroom and asked, "Would anyone like to read the passage aloud?"

I raised my hand and stood up before anyone else could respond. "I'll do it," I said.

The whole class turned to stare at me with expressions ranging from surprise to disbelief. Even Jerome, who normally paid no attention to anyone, glanced in my direction.

The teacher looked at me as if I'd just done something impossible, and then frowned disapprovingly. "Bonnie, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes, I'm sure," I said, my voice steady.

With a smirk that showed she expected me to fail, the teacher leaned back in her chair. "Go ahead then," she said, her voice full of condescension.

I'd had this passage memorized cold. Without opening my book, I started reciting, nailing every word with perfect clarity.

People said bigger folks often have great voices, and Bonnie was proof of that.

Her voice didn't match her looks at all—sweet and clear as a bell, way better than my old scratchy voice.

When I finished, the whole class went dead silent, everyone staring at me in shock.

The teacher pushed up her glasses and studied me before giving a thumbs-up that was impossible to interpret. "Bonnie, looks like you've been hiding your true abilities all along."

The class burst into enthusiastic applause, everyone looking genuinely impressed.

I smiled my thanks before sitting down.

Turning my head, I caught Jerome watching me over his glasses, his eyes sharp with interest.

The teacher spent the entire period challenging me, from textual analysis to thematic interpretation.

I responded to each prompt with insightful commentary.

"Bonnie," the teacher said, her usual disdain replaced with something resembling respect, "you're clearly as capable as Miranda. No more pretending to struggle in my class."