: Season 2: Fatty Betty’s Diary. Summer is Here

Betty’s POV

Dear Diary,

I thought long and hard if I should start having a diary again. Not after what happened to the first one and how everyone in the campus learned how I longed to be kissed by Marcus Archibald. So much has changed since that day. But summer is almost here, and I want to write down everything and reflect, in a way. I always hated walking into the admin building. It smells like a mix of printer ink and that weird lemon cleaner they use to pretend it’s clean. Today was no different, except this time, I wasn’t here to fight over fees or argue about dorm assignments. Nope. Today, I came for something much worse: grade reports.

Don’t get me wrong—I knew I wasn’t failing. I’m not that kind of mess. But as I waited for the secretary to hand me my printout, I still felt like my stomach was doing backflips. It’s not like grades are the only thing that matter, but after the semester I’ve had? The last thing I needed was another disaster.

The secretary finally slid the paper across the counter, giving me one of those smiles that’s supposed to be encouraging but just ends up looking pitying. "Top of the class," she said like it was some kind of revelation.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, grabbing it and walking out before she could try to “motivate” me further.

I should’ve been happy. My grades were great—perfect, actually. Brent and I had tied for the top spot, which was funny considering how much time he spends trying to save everyone else. But instead of feeling proud, all I could think was: What does it matter?

I stepped into the sunlight, holding the report like it might suddenly tell me what to do with my life. All around me, other students were celebrating or sulking, their futures decided by those tiny, sharp numbers on their papers.

Before I could sink too deep into my own thoughts, I heard Stacey’s voice cutting through the noise like an airhorn.

"Betty!"

I turned to see her jogging toward me, her hair perfect as always even though the rest of her looked like she’d been through it. She wasn’t smiling, and Stacey not smiling? That’s like the sun not rising.

“Got your grades?” I asked, holding mine up like a shield.

She nodded but didn’t pull hers out. Instead, she fell into step beside me, her silence heavier than her gym bag.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I’m failing,” she said flatly, like the words were a bad taste she wanted to spit out.

I stopped so fast she nearly bumped into me. “What?”

“Lit,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “I bombed Lit. They said if I don’t pass the summer camp program, I’ll have to retake it next term.”

It took me a second to process that. Stacey? Failing? She’s the one who can handle anything—cheerleading drama, family crap, even Marcus. And now she was looking at me like the world was ending because of some failed essays.

“Stace,” I said, trying to keep my voice light, “it’s just one class. You’ll pass the camp, no problem.”

She laughed, but it wasn’t her usual laugh. It was sharp and hollow. “Easy for you to say, Miss Top of the Class. I just… I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Don’t know if you can do it?” I repeated, my eyebrows shooting up. “Stacey, you took down Megan. You can handle a summer camp.”

She smiled faintly at that, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I just… I’ve spent so much time focusing on everything else. Now it’s catching up with me.”

There it was again. Vulnerable Stacey. The one who let me see the cracks she kept hidden from everyone else. It felt strange, but also… kind of nice. Like we weren’t just thrown together because of my dad’s choices.

“You’ve got this,” I said firmly. “And if you need help, I’m just a call away.”

She sighed, her gaze dropping to the ground. “You’re not even coming to the camp.”

I winced. “Yeah, about that…”

“What?”

“I’m going home for the summer,” I said quietly. “Back to where I grew up. I just… I need to get out of here for a while.”

Stacey frowned. “But why?”

“Because I need to figure out what I want,” I said. “There’s been so much going on, I just… I need some space.”

She was quiet for a moment, then surprised me with a soft smile. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling a weird lump in my throat.

She hesitated, then added, “A lot has happened, but I’m happy I finally get to call someone a sister.”

I blinked at her, caught completely off guard. “I would say the same about you,” I said with a smirk, “but I know you’ve got this.”

Her grin widened. “We’ll make our parents proud.”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “We will.”

And for the first time in a while, I actually believed it.