The guys in my class mocked my chest, calling me "Double-D Dave." Even my best friend didn't hesitate to distance herself from me. She blinked her innocent, doe-like eyes: "But a lot of girls with big chests aren't decent, you know? "And you dressing like that... you're doing it on purpose to seduce guys, aren't you?" But, during my most vengeful year, I actually ended up seducing the school's top student, the guy she had a massive crush on. 01 Right before P.E. class. I slumped over my desk, looking dead inside as I spoke to the P.E. rep: "Stomach cramps... write me a pass." I waited until everyone had left the classroom before dropping my hand from my stomach and sitting up straight, my face expressionless. I hate P.E. I hate the sticky wind, the gross sweat, and most of all, the lingering, predatory stares. In our last P.E. class, we were doing 50-meter sprints. After I crossed the finish line, a few guys by the track were staring right at me. The ringleader, Chad, nudged the guy next to him with his elbow: "Did you see Double-D Dave bouncing when she ran? "What do you call that, the jiggle physics?" He didn't bother lowering his voice; he spoke just loud enough for me to hear. Almost instinctively, I hunched my shoulders and slouched. I was a late bloomer. When puberty finally hit, it hit fast and hard. After I developed, I lost my actual name. "Double-D Dave" became my new alias. During every passing period, Chad and his crew would huddle together. They'd look me up and down while cracking crude jokes. They'd say breasts only get that big from being touched, that girls with big chests are all sluts... These words rushed into my heart like a howling wind, telling me that having a large chest meant being promiscuous, dirty, and indecent. I hated these two massive lumps of flesh on my chest, and I hated that piece of trash, Chad, even more. I wanted so badly to march over and confront him loudly, but the topic inherently carried a deep sense of shame, making it impossible for me to speak up. I could only look toward the group of girls sitting by the track, desperate to fit in. But they silently averted their eyes. To them, I was the sacrificial lamb thrown out of the flock. As long as I was drawing the fire, the rest of the sheep were temporarily safe. I wasn't ready to give up. I waved at a girl with pigtails in the group: "Chloe! Do you want to partner up with me for sit-ups later?" Seeing this, a guy mocked: "Hanging out with Double-D Dave? Be careful, you might catch the Double-Ds too." Chad answered: "It's possible. Birds of a feather flock together, and big boobs gather together, right?" They burst into a roar of laughter. Hearing this, Chloe looked embarrassed and quickly said: "No way! Maya and I are not best friends! "I'm never going to turn out like her!" Chloe had transferred here six months ago. Because her voice naturally had a high, breathy pitch that sounded a bit fake, she didn't fit in at first. When she was being excluded, I was the one who took the initiative to befriend her, went to the cafeteria with her, and helped her integrate into the group. We used to pass notes while the teacher was writing on the board, share teenage secrets, and exchange knowing smiles. Back then, her eyes sparkled as she told me: "You're my best friend." But now, she didn't hesitate to draw a line between us. I was completely isolated. I lowered my eyelashes, turned around, and went to the equipment room to get a dumbbell plate to hold down my feet for sit-ups. As I bent over, I heard a collective gasp from behind me. Someone said regretfully: "It sucks we can't bring phones to P.E. Otherwise I'd have Chad snap a pic, that would be totally hot..." "Cut the crap," Chad interrupted him. "Let's go do pull-ups." 02 Walking through the empty classroom, I stopped in front of Chad's desk. Chad was the AP Physics representative. On the surface, he was upbeat, got good grades, and was well-liked by the teachers. But behind closed doors, he was an absolute piece of trash. I dug out a piece of scratch paper from his desk cubby. Written on it was: "Junior Year Class 3 Big Boob Ranking." The very first line glared at me: "Maya Lin, D+." I fought the urge to rip that paper to shreds, pulled out my phone, and took a picture to save as evidence. Then, I pulled Chad's phone out of his cubby. The screen lit up, revealing his lock screen photo. The photo was a side profile of a girl standing in front of a bookshelf in the library. The angle of the photo was weird, giving off a subtle, unsettling vibe—like someone was hiding behind a bookcase, shooting upwards from a low angle... In the frame, a girl in her school uniform skirt was on her tiptoes, reaching for a book on a high shelf. From that low-angle perspective, the hem of her uniform top rode up, exposing a sliver of snow-white waist and the bottom edge of a light purple bra. It was an upskirt photo. I wasn't hearing things—that piece of trash Chad really was taking creepshots! I gritted my teeth, my chest heaving violently. When was this photo taken? Who had seen it? Were there more explicit photos besides this one? Anger, disgust, shame, terror... a torrential flood of intense emotions washed over my nerves. It was so disgusting! Trash! Trash! Chad was a disgusting, perverted creep! Fighting down the urge to vomit, I took a picture of the lock screen and then tried to unlock the phone. I knew that to completely ruin Chad's reputation, this evidence alone wasn't enough. Over the past few days, I had been paying attention to his unlock pattern; I should be able to figure it out. However, I tried many times, and the screen only displayed two words: "Incorrect Password." Did Chad change his passcode? Frustrated, I shoved his phone into my pocket. I pulled out Chad's textbooks and workbooks and, on the cover of each one, used a red Sharpie to fiercely scrawl the words: "Go to hell, pervert." 03 P.E. was the last period of the day. The dismissal bell rang. I shoved Chad's books back into his desk, shouldered my backpack, and prepared to head home. At the turn of the stairs, I bumped into someone—Chloe. She had just come from P.E., yet she had already put on her jacket and was sweating profusely from the heat. When she saw me, her innocent, doe-like eyes flickered, as if she wanted to say something. But I didn't give her the chance to speak. I kept my face completely blank and walked straight past her. From the moment she drew a line between us, she became a traitor. While I despised trash like Chad, Chloe's betrayal hurt even more. I was only plotting revenge against Chad; not seeking revenge against Chloe was the greatest mercy I could offer to our past friendship. ... I live in a low-income neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. After my parents died in an accident, my grandmother and I scraped by on the insurance payout, living very frugally. Although the neighborhood is run-down and dirty, the rent is cheap and it's close to the school. I turned my key in the lock: "Grandma?" I didn't find my grandmother. Instead, I saw a greasy, overweight, middle-aged man walking out of the kitchen. The landlord, who had let himself in uninvited, had half a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He jingled a large ring of keys in his hand: "I told your grandma I was coming to check the gas meter today." After checking the meter, the landlord swaggered toward the door. Before stepping out, his gaze swept over my chest: "In the blink of an eye, the little girl has grown up. "Girls really do blossom when they hit eighteen." That kind of gaze was sickeningly familiar. It felt like a brazen tongue licking my skin, giving me goosebumps all over. I immediately and warily pulled my jacket tight across my chest. I had seen the landlord affectionately hug his young son; I had seen him look at his wife with eyes full of love. Did his wife and son know he would look at a young girl with such unbridled lust? A second ago, he was a good husband and a good father. Why, when facing me, did he reveal such a disgusting expression? After the landlord left, I leaned against the security door, hating this post-pubescent body for the millionth time. 04 The next morning. I slammed the snooze button on my alarm clock and forced my eyes open with sheer willpower. Yesterday, I took Chad's phone. I stayed up half the night trying to guess the passcode, but I never managed to unlock it. Furious, I simply went into the class group chat's photo album, found an ugly picture of Chad, and created a fake profile on Instagram pretending to be his parent. I posted his ugly picture and asked if he could be a child model. Right now, I opened Instagram. Seeing the comment section filled with mockery and insults, I finally felt satisfied enough to get out of bed. There was a hard-boiled egg on the dining table, and oatmeal was still warm on the stove. My grandmother had already left. Even at her age, she couldn't sit still. She liked collecting cans and bottles to sell for recycling. I yawned and walked onto the familiar path. Passing by a narrow alley, I stopped. There was a stray calico cat in this alley that I called Mimi. I held a sausage, making clicking noises as I walked into the alley. Unlike before, there was an extra cardboard box in the alley. A hole had been cut into the box, and some old school uniform jackets were lining the inside—had some kind soul made a bed for Mimi? "Meow—" A faint meow came from the box. I leaned in, and my eyes widened—inside the box was a litter of tiny, colorful kittens. ... I hummed a song, feeling a rare surge of joy as I walked into the classroom. Ever since I was singled out and isolated by Chad, I had become a warrior fueled entirely by hatred during an age supposed to be about innocent romance. I hated school, I hated morning assemblies, I hated P.E. class, and I hated my own body... But I will always love kittens. Kittens wouldn't look at me with weird eyes because in their eyes, there was only sausage. I was just pondering how to get some extra nutrition for Mimi, who had just given birth, when I suddenly realized the classroom was exceptionally quiet. I looked up in confusion and saw many of my classmates staring at me with bizarre expressions. Someone said: "Maya, the homeroom teacher wants to see you in his office." 05 I pushed open the door to the teacher's office. Our middle-aged, balding homeroom teacher, Mr. Harris, was rubbing his receding hairline, looking deeply troubled. Chad was standing opposite him. Seeing me enter, Chad immediately pointed at me: "Mr. Harris, yesterday Maya was the only one who didn't go to the last period, which was P.E. "She definitely stole it!" Knowing I held evidence of his creepshots, Chad actually had the audacity to complain? Looking at Chad's face full of resentment, I put on a sweet smile: "Oh? Why don't you tell me, what exactly did I steal? "Chad, what kind of shady things were you hiding?" Since I dared to take Chad's phone and scribble all over his books, I wasn't afraid of him making a scene. If he didn't make a scene, he'd have to swallow a bitter pill and explain to the teachers why he couldn't hand in his assignments. If he really dared to bring it up to the teacher and accuse me of stealing his phone, then I would confront him and force him to unlock his phone right there. Chad stared at me, a smile I couldn't decipher on his lips: "Earlier, the physics teacher had me collect $500 for the new AP prep books. "The envelope with the money was in my desk cubby. "Now the money is gone, and you definitely stole it." I was stunned. Prep book money? When I rummaged through his cubby yesterday, I didn't see any envelope with money. I denied it loudly: "You're lying. I didn't steal any money!" Mr. Harris looked at me hesitantly: "The security camera system happens to be undergoing maintenance recently... "But besides Chad, there's a witness who can prove you were the only one in the classroom yesterday afternoon." Following his gaze, I saw Chloe sitting in the corner. Right now, Chloe was nervously wringing the hem of her shirt. Seeing everyone looking at her, she swallowed hard and said quietly: "I was the first one back to the classroom yesterday. "At that time... I ran into Maya as she was getting ready to leave. "Her expression was very unnatural, and she definitely had something stuffed in her pocket..." My brain went "BZZZZZZ—" 06 Chad and I went back and forth, almost getting into a physical fight right there in the office. He absolutely refused to mention his missing phone, sticking to his story that he only lost the $500 for the prep books. Mr. Harris couldn't determine who was lying and decided to put the matter on hold for now. He said: "I'll cover the cost of the prep books this time. But I will continue to investigate." He looked at the two of us, his expression serious: "$500 is enough to get the police involved. "Within a month, if the student who took the money thinks it through, they can come to me privately and admit their mistake. "Don't go down the wrong path." Chad and Chloe left one after another. I was the only one left standing there. Mr. Harris asked: "Maya, is there anything else you need?" My heart was pounding like a drum. Should I tell this middle-aged man, who is supposed to be a role model, the truth about the whole thing? Last time, I pretended to casually mention to Mr. Harris that Chad was always staring at me and making nasty jokes. And what did Mr. Harris do? He laughed heartily and said teenage boys just like to attract girls' attention like that. He said Chad was a bright, sunny kid with no bad intentions and told me not to take it to heart. He even said my weakness was Physics, and since Chad happened to excel at it, he told me to ask him for help more often. If I told Mr. Harris now that I suspected Chad took indecent photos of me, and that I stole his phone to preserve the evidence, would Mr. Harris really take my side? The landlord's lecherous gaze flashed before my eyes, and the crude jokes of the guys echoed in my ears. I didn't dare risk it. I lowered my head and heard my own voice: "No, I'm fine, Mr. Harris." ... The entire day, I was completely distracted. Chloe passed me a few notes, but I crumpled them up and threw them straight out the window. After school, the sky was covered in dark clouds, and it had already started pouring. I didn't have an umbrella. Seeing my classmates leaving together under umbrellas, or having parents come pick them up, I could only continuously curse this world. The whole school was a piece of shit, everyone was garbage, and the dark clouds were just giant clumps of moldy cotton. "Maya!" Suddenly, a familiar voice came from behind. 07 I turned my head and looked coldly at Chloe. She was holding a foldable umbrella, her round, doll-like face deliberately set in a serious expression. Back when Chloe first transferred here, she didn't have an umbrella on a rainy day, and I was the one who took the initiative to share mine with her. This damn traitor. She really owed me a lot. I stared at the umbrella in Chloe's hand, calculating the odds of snatching it and running. Chloe leaned in close and asked quietly: "Why did you throw away my notes?" I scoffed: "Because you're a disgusting traitor. "You'd rather believe that piece of trash Chad than believe me. "I hate you guys to death." Chloe's eyes went wide: "You!" She stared at me, gritting her teeth: "Maya, you are truly beyond saving. "I saw you didn't have an umbrella and wanted to walk you home. "Chad and the others were right! You used to deliberately wear a tight uniform to seduce guys, and now you're actually stealing money!" As she spoke, Chloe's eyes reddened: "Why can't you have just a little bit of self-respect?" She was highly emotional, her voice becoming shrill. Classmates all around cast probing glances, making me feel like I had needles in my back. Chloe really was something—now, besides "Double-D Dave," I had a new title: "Thief." Hatred continued to breed in my heart. I wanted nothing more than to rip apart her babbling mouth. Traitor! Damn traitor! I was so angry I yelled: "Chloe, you're full of shit!" Before she could react, I shoved Chloe hard. Caught off guard, she fell to the ground. The umbrella slipped from her grasp and rolled to the side. I took a large step forward, picked up her umbrella, chucked it right into the trash can, and then turned and bolted straight into the torrential rain. ... The rain fell harder and harder. All I could hear was the sound of the rain and my own chaotic heartbeat. Passing by the alleyway, I stopped, hesitated for a moment, and still turned into it. In the downpour, the cardboard box holding the kittens had long been washed away. The box had practically been reduced to a mushy pulp by the water, leaving only a filthy mess on the ground. Where were the kittens? Where did that litter of kittens go? With rain this heavy, could newborn kittens survive? It was only then that my eyes finally started to sting with unshed tears. This damn world—trash guys slandering me, friends betraying me, teachers doubting me... Fate took my parents in a car crash on a rainy night, and now it wants to take the kittens too? I crouched in the pouring rain, hugging my knees, curling into a ball, and began trembling uncontrollably. Suddenly, the rain seemed to stop. A shadow fell over me. I looked up and saw a tall silhouette standing against the light. The person stood beside me, holding an umbrella. He asked gently: "Are you looking for the cats?"
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