BETTY
The first step into uni felt like stepping onto a stage.
Except this time, I wasn’t the joke.
I wasn’t the background.
I was the storm.
The doors of Riverside Prep groaned open, and I walked through like they were holding their breath for me. My boots clicked against the marble with a rhythm that demanded attention. Heads turned. Conversations halted mid-sentence. Lockers slammed shut half-latched. Every single person stopped.
And I didn’t flinch. Not once.
My velvet burgundy dress caught the light in waves. Just above the knee, sleek and unapologetic. My hair curled like power. My makeup? Precision. Soft shadow, winged liner sharp enough to cut through the silence. And my braces? Still on. Still mine. Still gleaming like steel. War paint.
I pulled out my phone and tapped record. The camera captured my stride, the hush falling over the hallway, the wide eyes and held breaths.
“Hey guys,” I said, voice low, even. “Some of you might know me as the girl from that video. Some of you shared it. Laughed at it. Used it.”
I passed a group of girls huddled near the water fountain, frozen mid-whisper.
“But here’s the thing…”
I turned the camera on myself, slowed my pace, and smiled. Not sweet. Sharp.
“Sometimes the best revenge… is becoming the girl they swore you’d never survive being.”
I stopped at my locker, dropped my phone in my bag, and didn’t look back. The hallway had changed. I had changed. And everyone could feel it.
That’s when I saw her.
Stacey.
Flanked by her minions near the stairwell, iced coffee in hand and a smirk already brewing. Her eyes swept over me—and faltered. I saw the moment it hit her. That I wasn’t just back. I was dangerous now.
She pushed off the wall like she meant to intercept me.
“Aw, Betty,” she sang, that fake-sweet lilt already curling off her tongue. “Nice to see you’re not hiding anymore. Cute dress. From my side of the closet?”
She stepped forward.
Kate stepped in front of her.
“Nope,” Kate said, arms crossed. “Back it up, Stacey. Not today.”
“Oh, come on,” Stacey laughed, too loud, too sharp. “I just want to congratulate her. She’s finally famous!”
Kate didn’t move. “Touch her, or even breathe on her, and I swear to God—”
Stacey’s jaw twitched. Her eyes flicked toward me one more time, then narrowed. “You seriously think one slutty video makes you a hero now?”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t even blink. I turned and walked away.
And the crowd parted for me like it was instinct.
Students whispered. Some smiled. A few nodded at me like I was walking them into battle.
Then I saw him.
Marcus Mitchell. Standing across the atrium, hoodie hanging loose over his frame. Tired eyes. Jaw tight. Arms folded like he wasn’t sure whether to fight someone or fall apart.
He looked up—and saw me.
Everything in the room dropped away.
No hallway noise. No footfalls. Just him and me.
He stared like he didn’t believe what he was seeing.
And I stared back like I wasn’t ready to forgive him for believing I’d ever needed saving.
But I knew the truth now. About the fight. The phone. The punches he threw for me.
Kate said he’d tried to reach me. That he was suspended. Benched. Shut down by his father, his coach, his entire future—just to stand up for me.
And now?
Now he stood there like a man drowning in everything he didn’t say.
Our eyes held. A thousand unsent messages between us.
I walked past him. Boots clicking. Head high.
But when I reached the end of the hall, I didn’t stop walking.
Not until I was alone.
I slipped my phone from my bag. Opened our message thread.
No typing. No hesitation.
Just this:
Meet me. Ground floor. No people.
Then I hit send. And I waited.