I WOULD LIKE to think of myself as an evil genius.

Since I was young, my friends had always called me cunning. Though they had meant it jokingly, I had always wondered what it would be like to use my wits and crazy ideas in real life situations. Often, I dreamt about how I could take down the bad guy of my own personal story just by using my wits and knowledge, to prove to myself and all those narcissistic jocks that not everything in this world is about being physically strong.

I forgot about one thing, though. To defeat all those villains in your personal fairytale, you have to be emotionally strong as well. Strength does not only come in terms of muscle mass, but it also involves your emotional and mental capacities. I would like to think that I am a strong person. I mean, not everyone gets dumped by their boyfriend and childhood best friend only to rise up again from the dirt and come out back at the top.

I am strong. And I will not let anyone tell me otherwise.

Since I was given a choice, I would use my brainpower to defeat the villain. I had decided to play Charlotte's mind game. She fooled everyone, but not me. She fooled the triple threats, but they eventually knew her true colors. Charlotte was a dull gray, a color that might seem ordinary and bleak yet held secrets. Gray could be a color of elegance and superiority, yet it could be a color of doubt and deception. And that, my friends, was why it perfectly described Charlotte's persona.

She didn't fool me, and to prove my point to the rest of the world, I decided to team up with my new younger brother, Peter, to beat her at her own game. Like I mentioned a while ago, the president of the student council has to address the school at the start of each semester. The theme of each talk is how we can improve our lives and better society in our own ways. During one of my trips to the library in search of materials for a combined project, I had noticed Charlotte's computer unlocked and left unattended on one of the tables. Luck was on my side because I found out that day that she was going to do a speech about the lives of orphans in California and how we can better their lives and help them feel wanted.

Oh, mother of irony.

The girl that mistreated Peter, a former orphan, wanted to talk about how we can improve the lives of orphans. Irony was a bitch, and it slapped Charlotte in the face harsher and more painful than reality would. She would be the pure personification of that word.

So, standing backstage, looking through the curtains at Charlotte preparing for the presentation in front of the entire student body, I couldn't help but feel a thrilling rush as if I was about to board a roller coaster. I occasionally looked around to see if anybody was suspecting anything. When I felt someone touch me, I almost jumped and whipped my head back so fast I probably sprained my neck in the process.

I glared at Wes when I realized it was him all along and hit his shoulder lightly. "What do you think you're doing?" I asked.

"I think the question is, princess, what do you think you're doing." His smug expression sent butterflies through my veins, and my skin tingled where he had touched me. Guilt flooded my veins as my face turned crimson.

"The usual. Ruining Charlotte's everyday, mundane life." I gestured to the stage as she went on her introduction. Wesley only nodded as we both started to tune into what she was currently talking about.

"And this year, we, the student council, have a plan of raising money for this charity event, and the money raised will go solely to the orphanage to better the children's lives. In case you're still doubtful of this event, let me now show you what exactly life for the children is like inside the orphanage. Hopefully, after this video, you will be convinced to help reshape the future of these children." Charlotte stepped backward from the microphone and clicked a button on a remote, playing the next slide. The video that I had taken down began to play, and Charlotte's face paled almost instantly when she recognized what exactly was happening on screen.

The whole student body grew silent as Charlotte rushed to the laptop hidden at the back of the stage. She tried to switch it off, but the video kept on playing, regardless, and Charlotte's expression only grew more and more frustrated by the second. I turned behind and reached out for Peter's hand, nodding at him as he smiled and bravely stepped on stage.

"Hi," he began softly at first as he looked toward my direction. I nodded at him, and he flashed a toothy grin at me before focusing on the crowd once more. Over the past few days, both of us had bonded more as brother and sister, as well as friends. When I explained my plan to Peter, he agreed without a moment's worth of hesitation. "You might recognize me from the video. My name is Peter, and I am eight years old. Charlotte Brooke often volunteers at the orphanage and this, what you're seeing in the video, is what happens almost every time she is around. I hope everyone here today will finally learn to help us, children, in defending ourselves against such people." Peter stepped away from the microphone and was beginning to walk back when he suddenly stopped and turned back to the center of the stage. "Thank you," he mumbled and quickly ran toward me.

"Good job, pipsqueak." I ruffled his hair slightly as he beamed brightly at me. "You did great."

"Let's go have some ice cream, yeah? As a reward." Wesley smiled at him from behind me as Peter's face lit up. Nodding enthusiastically, Peter reached up and grabbed Wesley's outreached hand. Both of them made their way out of the auditorium.

"I don't know what happened. I just..." I could hear Charlotte's voice crying over the curtain that separated the both of us, and I immediately felt my stomach churn in disgust.

"It's okay. I'll find out who framed you. The video was heavily edited and will definitely leave some traces." Blake tried to calm the hysterical Charlotte, and I clenched my fists tightly. Not wanting to listen to their conversation for another second, I turned on my heel.

You're not getting away so easily, Charlotte Brooke.