Rewound: Exam Day Revenge

I woke up to the familiar rumble of thunder, the bruised purple sky mirroring the dread in my stomach: exam day.

It was all happening again, precisely like last time.

Last time, Kevin, my earnest ex, held us back for Brie, the school' s queen bee, who, ever the drama, insisted on a "critical influencer photoshoot."

We were late, of course.

But the real disaster wasn't just missing the exam.

Later, at a supposed peace offering, Brie handed me a coffee.

It was laced with tree nuts, my deadliest allergen.

I died.

Kevin and his "Elites" lied, claiming I was distraught and ate something by accident.

Brie played victim online, painting me as the bully, while my mother' s quest for justice shattered her life.

Having lived through that betrayal, that humiliation, that fatal setup once, to wake up here again on this exact morning felt like a second chance – not just at life, but at cosmic rebalancing.

Why was I back?

This time, I wouldn't say a single word.

Let them wait.

Let them miss their exam.

Let them ruin their own lives.

My future at MIT was already secure.

Theirs, however, was about to unravel, with me watching from the sidelines.

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!"

On the bus, Brie slid next to me, offering a small, gaudily wrapped box.

"A little something, Sarah, to say sorry for, you know, everything."

It was probably a ten-dollar trinket. I didn't take it.

Kevin leaned over the seat, his face tight, "Seriously, Sarah? She's trying to be nice."

I just looked out the window.

One of The Elites, Jessica, cooed, "Brie, those pastries you brought are amazing! Such a morale booster!"

Brie beamed, "Only the best for my friends!"

She' d brought a box from a high-end bakery, a calculated move to buy loyalty.

Then the bus stopped. Dead still.

Traffic, miles of it. Red lights stretching into the gloom.

The driver got on his radio, then turned to us, his face grim.

"Main highway's closed, flash flooding. Side roads are jammed. We're not making that exam, kids. No way."

Panic erupted. Shouts, accusations.

In my past life, my mother, resourceful and desperate, had arranged a private convoy of SUVs to get us through. They' d taken her help, then spat on her memory.

This time, I stayed silent, watching.

Brie clapped her hands, "Guys, guys! I know a shortcut! My dad used to take it all the time. It cuts right through the old county roads."

Kevin looked at her, adoration in his eyes, "Brie, you're a lifesaver!"

The Elites cheered.

I knew that "shortcut." It wound through low-lying areas, prone to even worse flooding.

Perfect.