Liam Thorne sent a video to the group chat of me walking out of the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a towel. Every rich kid who ever chased me was in that chat, but Liam was undoubtedly the prettiest. [Liam, you’re a legend. What does the Ice Queen taste like? Let us have a turn?] [Liam really took one for the team. Sacrificing his body to seduce the valedictorian just to get revenge for his childhood sweetheart.] [Cold-hearted b*stard. Telling the nerd you have cancer right before finals? Her eyes have been red for days.] [Dumping her right after graduation.] I heard Liam send a lazy voice memo, his tone nothing like the pitiful act he put on for me. I skipped class constantly to be with him at the hospital; my grades plummeted. Liam lay weakly in the hospital bed, pulling out a forged cancer diagnosis, his eyes full of deep emotion. "Aria, I'm sorry. I'm dragging you down. Don't spend any more money on my treatment." He knew I was broke from trying to save him. Liam waited for me to give up on him. He never expected me to pull out another fifty thousand dollars—my life savings. The group chat blew up again: [B*tch! What does he have besides a pretty face! Why did Aria fall for him!] [She sold her apartment for him! That was her mom's only legacy!] [Shameless scum. Carter, did you tell Aria the truth yet?] [Sh*t! Idiot! You sent that to the wrong chat! Liam is in this one! Delete it, quick!] The messages were retracted one by one. In the hospital bed, Liam’s face went pale. 1 Academics were always easy for me. Since I was little, if I wanted to be first in my grade, I was. I also inherited my mother’s good looks. Aside from being poor, I had almost no flaws. In middle school, my mother married a wealthy businessman. She left me a bank card. "Don't contact me. I'll wire you money every year." She told everyone she was single; she didn't want my existence to affect her second marriage. I felt nothing. I took the card and told everyone I was an orphan. I was born emotionally detached. My mother didn't like me. She preferred daughters who could call her "Mommy" sweetly, even if it was a stepdaughter. Photos of a girl soon appeared frequently on her social media—the daughter of the businessman's ex-wife. Her name was Bella Cruz, and she was stunning. My mother hugged her, while Bella pouted, wearing a fake, reluctant smile. For the first time, seeing someone else smile stung my eyes. Life was bland and boring. My only joy was finding people who could stir my emotions. So, I moved. I bought a small, 600-square-foot apartment in a good school district and transferred to Bella's high school. 2 Just as I felt the first time I saw her, Bella loathed me. She led her little clique to bully me constantly. I didn't argue with her. I just deliberately skipped school the week before the eight-school joint exam. Our school, Eastwood High, had been suppressed by the neighboring prep school for a long time. My grades were consistently first in the year; the administration would never want to see me miss the exam. When my homeroom teacher called, I gathered my courage and said, "Ms. Baker, can I transfer classes?" "Transfer?" Ms. Baker quickly picked up on the wrongness in my tone. She softened her voice. "Is someone in the class bothering you? Don't be afraid, I'll handle it for you!" I stammered, "No, no. It's just... I don't fit in very well." Hanging up the phone, I put away the insecurity and cowardice I had feigned. I knew I was never a good person. I always pay back what I'm owed. Two days later, Ms. Baker called me to the school. The school had cameras everywhere. Ms. Baker spent a whole day checking the footage. After discovering that Bella had been targeting me openly and secretly for two months, she immediately reported it to the administration. The school took it very seriously. Bella stood under the flag during the assembly, red-eyed, choking back tears as she read her apology. She lost face completely and hated me to the bone from then on. "It's all her fault! If her grades weren't so good, the teachers wouldn't protect her like this!" "Fake b*tch! Pick-me girl!" "Carter! Tell me! Will you help me or not!" Outside the corner coffee shop, Bella was crying and hugging a boy. The boy whispered comfortingly, "Don't cry. Liam and I will definitely help you." "Really?" Bella looked up, her nose red from crying. "What do you want me to do?" "Find someone to ruin her, take her virginity, then post the photos in the group chat. I want to see what right that b*tch has to be arrogant then!" Bella's voice was venomous. The tall boy held her in his arms, smiling cynically. "A poor girl with no background is worth my princess crying like this? Wait till I train her to lick your feet on the ground." 3 My boring life suddenly became much more interesting. For example, suddenly many people wanted to be my friends, all of them rich or noble. "Aria, that Michelin-star restaurant is great. I'll take you." Carter Reeves was in Class 11, 6'1", a master at flirting. He was one of Bella's helpers, her cousin. Good-looking, good family, loved to play the field. He pursued me openly. Because he was the only guy I occasionally responded to, rumors spread that we were dating. Ms. Baker called us to the office; the homeroom teacher of Class 11 was sitting next to her. Carter's teacher was a stern man. He looked at Carter coldly. "Focus on your studies. If your grades are bad, don't drag others down. I called your parents; write a 1,000-word reflection by tomorrow." "Also, I talked to your parents yesterday. They don't agree with you studying art. Don't think art is a shortcut. Your art teacher told me you have too many ideas and aren't suited for exams." Carter clenched his fists tightly. His teacher rattled on like a machine gun. Noisy. When his teacher said again that Carter shouldn't affect my studies, I interrupted him, my eyes devoid of emotion. "Sir, he won't have any effect on me. I will take first place." The teacher choked, about to explode, but Ms. Baker blocked him like a protective mother hen. "Alright, alright, you two can go." 4 Later, Carter's pursuit became even more intense. Always giving bags, money, finding boring topics. If he were chasing my mom, it would work. Too bad my mom had many suitors in the past; I was tired of these tricks. I looked at Carter wearily and rejected his advances. "Your grades are too bad." Carter looked aggrieved. "Aria, not everyone finds studying as easy as you do." "But you're talented at drawing." Carter's face changed; the cynical expression vanished, and he sat up straight. "You really think I'm talented? The teachers say I draw nonsense, not following the rules." "Mm." I hummed a response. "You don't think it's useless?" He asked again. Then, he began to complain that his family wouldn't let him paint and wanted to send him abroad. I interrupted him. "Okay, I'm going home." If he were an experienced playboy, he would know not to expose his weakness to a woman who didn't love him yet. He would be manipulated. "Aria, do you want me to teach you to draw?" Carter's eyes were the best feature on his face—peach blossom eyes, full of affection. I liked beautiful things. I looked at him, smiling. "Your eyes are beautiful. Teach me to draw your eyes." His ears turned red, his hand holding the brush trembling for a second. No matter how wild, he was only eighteen; sometimes, innocence slipped through. I looked at his ears and chuckled lightly. This was the person who said he'd make me lick feet on the ground? Just so-so. I compared his drawing with the horrific thing I just drew and said regretfully, "Looks like I have no talent for painting." Carter laughed. "Aria, you're really cute." I put down the brush. "The painting got dirty. I don't like dirty things. Same with men." Carter's face changed; he looked into my eyes. And I looked at the new drawing under his hand. The eyes in the drawing were mine. Those eyes were calm, without any love or ripples. He forced a smile and left in a hurry. I felt a malicious gaze. Bella stared at the brush on the ground. Carter treated his brushes like treasures, but today he left one behind. I picked up the brush and threw it in the trash. Maybe he'll switch out soon. I hope the next one is more interesting.
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