I woke up, the date screaming in my head: exam day.
A massive thunderstorm was brewing outside, the sky a bruised purple, just like last time.
The memories flooded back, sharp and bitter.
Kevin, my ex, his face earnest, "Just a few more minutes, Sarah, Brie's almost here."
Brie, the school's queen bee, always late, always dramatic.
She'd claimed her influencer photoshoot was running late, a critical appointment.
I was student council president then, I argued, "The weather's bad, the exam won't wait."
They called me jealous, inconsiderate.
We were late, of course.
Later, at a supposed make-up gathering, Brie handed me a coffee, an "artisanal blend" she said, a peace offering.
It was laced with tree nuts, my deadliest allergen.
I died.
Kevin and the others, "The Elites," they lied.
They said I was distraught over the exam, accidentally ate something.
Brie played the victim online, bullied by me, she claimed.
Sympathy poured in for her, my mother was destroyed, her reputation shattered trying to find justice for me.
Now, I was back, on this exact morning.
This time, I wouldn't say a word to stop them.
In the school hallway, Kevin was already rounding up the others sharing the chartered bus to the off-site testing center.
"Come on, guys, Brie texted, she's running a little behind, said to wait."
The Elites nodded, eager to please.
I walked towards the bus.
"Sarah, wait up!" Kevin called.
I turned, "I'm not feeling great, the storm, you know. I'm going ahead."
The bus driver, a new guy this time, grumbled, "Radio says roads might close, flash flood warnings."
I smiled, a small, secret thing. My MIT acceptance, full ride, was already secure, won at the national science fair months ago. These exams were just a formality for me.
Let them wait. Let them ruin themselves.
Brie finally flounced in, breathless, "Oh my god, you guys, I am SO sorry!"