Chapter 2

In my first life, I was a fool.

I actually believed in things like kindness and giving people the benefit of the doubt.

When the SATs were over, rumors started flying.

Tiffany was telling everyone she had aced it, that she had a gut feeling she got a perfect 1600.

I didn't believe her.

Not because I thought she was stupid, but because the math section had been brutal.

There was one question in particular, a complex probability problem, that I knew had stumped almost everyone.

I had only solved it because I'd spent a month studying that specific type of problem.

I overheard her in the hallway, laughing with her friends.

"It was so easy," she said, flipping her blonde hair. "I probably could have done it in my sleep."

I thought, maybe she made a mistake. Maybe she misremembered the questions.

If the official scores came out and she was wrong, she would be so embarrassed.

So I did something incredibly stupid.

I tried to be nice.

I found her after school, by her locker.

"Tiffany?" I said softly.

She turned, her smile tightening when she saw it was me.

"What do you want, Miller?"

"I just... I overheard you talking about the SATs," I stammered. "I was just thinking, maybe it's a good idea not to get your hopes up too high. Sometimes the scoring can be weird. There might be an error or something."

I was trying to give her an out. An excuse she could use later.

She stared at me for a long moment, her blue eyes turning to ice.

Then she laughed.

It was a loud, ugly sound.

"An error?" she repeated, her voice dripping with scorn. "Or maybe you're just jealous?"

"No, that's not it. I just-"

"You just can't stand that I'm better than you at everything, can you?" she cut me off, her voice getting louder.

Her friends started to gather around, like sharks smelling blood.

"You think because you're a little nerd who studies all day, you're the only one who can get a good score? Newsflash, Sarah. Some of us are naturally smart."

She stepped closer, poking a finger into my shoulder.

"Let me give you some advice," she said, her voice a low hiss. "Stop trying to tear other people down just because your own life is pathetic. It's a really bad look."

She turned to her audience.

"Did you guys hear that? Sad Sarah here is so worried I did better than her, she's trying to tell me my score is a mistake!"

The group erupted in laughter.

The sound echoed in the hallway, bouncing off the lockers.

I felt my face burn with shame.

Every laugh was a physical blow.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird trying to escape.

"She's just a bitter little snake," one of Tiffany's friends said.

"Yeah, a total hater."

My well-intentioned warning was twisted into an act of jealous sabotage.

I stood there, frozen, as they picked me apart with their words.

I wanted the floor to swallow me whole.

I just wanted to disappear.

Tiffany gave me one last look of pure disgust.

"Stay away from me, freak," she said, before turning and walking away, her posse following her like a royal court.

I was left alone in the hallway, the sound of their laughter still ringing in my ears.

That was the moment I learned that for people like Tiffany, kindness was just another weapon to be used against you.