Before you read this chapter, please note that I’ve made changes to the end of Chapter 9 by removing the scene where someone arrives at Juliette’s doorstep. I felt that the scenes following that part slowed down the plot, so I adjusted the content to maintain the story’s momentum. I apologize for making these changes partway through the story; I was uncertain about how much of the previous content to keep. I’m sorry for any inconvenience this may cause. Also, I won't be making these kinds of changes mid way through the story.

One more thing I forgot to mention on my last author's note was that in chapter 8, I added a new plot of school hunt so they are paired together.

If you have any more questions, feel free to ask me.

For the next few days, I’m hyper-aware of every glance and whisper directed at me. It’s strange, this new role of being hated. I feel like the kid at a birthday party who threw up all over the cake—at best a nuisance, at worst an amusing topic of discussion.

Just yesterday, during P.E. class, while everyone was standing in a circle, I overheard the word “fake” being tossed around. It was loud enough for me to hear but not clear enough to confront anyone. It felt like catching someone whispering behind your back—just enough to know what’s being said without having the evidence to act on it. But I knew they were talking about me because their smiles and not-so-subtle glances said it all.

However, I didn’t say anything because I’m not sure if speaking up would help. It’s not that there aren’t people who are unbothered, but the general consensus seems to be that what Gianna did was messed up, but what I’m doing is even worse.

These days, all I feel is confusion. Confusion about my state, my future, and even my own emotions. I feel like an angry ant scurrying around in circles, lost and desperate to find its way back but unsure where to go.

Today is just like any other day: keep your head down, listen to everyone saying things about you that probably aren’t even true, and then stay up late at night, hyperventilating about how to make people forget this mess.

So, life has given me a lot this past week, and one of its gifts is insomnia.

As I prepare for the mock test that's coming up, Sophie, one of my classmates, stands in front of my desk and says, “Wow, you’re really going for that   disheveled chic look, aren’t you?”

I look up to see her brown eyes staring back at me with smugness. She’s one of those students who takes pride in being brutally honest, with no regard for others’ feelings. Talking with her is like rubbing chili spray on an open wound. Sometimes her words sting so much it feels like even your ancestors would be weeping.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I reply, trying to hide the irritation bubbling inside me.

“Why are you all so sensitive? That incident happened a week ago. Just move on already.”

“I have an exam, so could you please let me study?” I say, trying to keep my frustration in check and not wanting to give her an essay on how insensitive she sounds. Or am I really being too sensitive?

“Please,” she rolls her eyes. “I was just giving you advice. No need to get all emotional.”

Since the journal incident, I haven’t written at all. Even the smallest annoyances make me want to unravel.

“Just leave me alone,” I reply, my tone sharper than I intended. I quickly feel guilty. I physically can’t handle people hating me. It’s frustrating, and I’m not sure how to stop it.

“Everyone was right about you. I was just trying to be nice.”

“It’s not that simple. I can’t just move on because you say so. I’ve been dealing with this for as long as I can remember.”

“I was just trying to help."

Finally, she walks away, and I let out a sigh of relief. But she’s not the only one telling me to move on or be stronger.

Two days ago, Ms. Rachel told me that I shouldn’t let this affect me and that there are worse things in life. But words are just words until we give them meaning. Right now, these words are nothing but a speck of dust that blows away in the wind.

As I watch her walk away, from the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Alex entering the classroom. It’s been days since we last spoke, and honestly, I’m perfectly content with keeping it that way.

The thought of the days ahead, where we’ll be working together, fills me with dread. Find common ground, Ms. Morgan had insisted. Common ground? What kind? The only common ground I can imagine is that if we get together, it’ll be a disaster waiting to happen.

Not wanting to draw his attention, I bury myself in my book, pretending to read. To my surprise, he does something unexpected—he takes the seat right next to me.

I stiffen, suddenly hyper-aware of his presence. My eyes remain glued to the pages, but curiosity gets the best of me. Halfway through a sentence I’m not actually reading, I sneak a glance at him from the corner of my eye.

“Don’t stare at me like that.”

My face immediately flushes with heat, and I swear you could cook fries on my cheeks right now. I’m dead. Why did I think that was a good idea? Quick, Juliette, think of a response and act cool.

“You think too highly of yourself. I wasn’t staring at you. I was just… staring at the fact that you’re sitting here.”

“Didn’t know staring at facts was a thing now. Is that some new superpower? Or does it only activate when you’re focusing on me?”

“I wasn’t focusing on you. Just because you’re good-looking doesn’t mean people are going to stare at you.”

And there it is—the realization hits me like a truck. What the hell, Juliette? Why did you call him good-looking?

“So you think I’m—”

“Yes, I think you’re the most prideful person ever. I hate you, and there’s no changing my mind.”

He pauses, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “I think I might have some qualities that could make you change your mind.”

“Why do you even care what I think?”

For a moment, he’s silent, and I’m left wondering what he’s about to say next. When he speaks, his voice is softer, almost teasing. “How did you know? I care about you so much that you’re the only one I think of whenever I close my eyes. You’re the only one running through my mind every time I breathe.”

“Oh my God! I feel bad for your future girlfriend, having to listen to your nonsense all day.”

“Maybe you could try it out first, see if it’s really that bad.”

“Shut up.”

“You didn’t deny it, though.”

____________________

After classes get over, I stay behind to clean the school grounds. It’s one of my punishments for the month, along with apologizing to my classmates, which didn’t go as planned. Not that anything in my life is going according to plan anyway.

When I went to my classmates to practice my speech, I messed up. My tongue got twisted, and I blabbered things I shouldn’t have.

“Gianna, I—”

“What do you want, Juliette?” she asks, her voice tight. She has a frosty look in her eyes that makes my insides twist.

Before I can say anything, she looks at the cupcake box in my hand and snickers. “I didn’t think you’d be so dumb as to try to persuade me into forgiving you with this.”

“I know you’re mad at me, and I would be too. But I swear I only wanted… I mean, I didn’t think—” My tongue is twisted, and I don’t even know what I’m talking about. I rehearsed it hundreds of times in front of my mirror, but right now, I can’t seem to remember anything. It’s as if someone cast a "forgetting the right things” spell on me.

“These letters and cupcakes aren’t going to solve anything. I really thought you were kind and genuine, but I was so wrong,” she adds before walking away, giving me a cold glare.

She left me with a sinking feeling in my chest. The cupcakes felt like rocks in my hand, and all I wanted to do was burn them to the ground.

Instead, I pretended to be okay and tried to apologize to my other classmates. But everyone seemed to ignore me, some giving me hostile looks while others looked a little guiltier. No one stopped to listen to me; everyone seemed to have jumped on the bandwagon to hate me.

The only person who made me feel better was Lily. She caught up to me with a look of concern and said, “Don’t worry about them. They’re a bunch of idiots.” And looking at the box, she shouted, “You brought cupcakes! Oh my gosh, they really are idiots!”

She made me feel better that day, and even now, she refuses to go home, saying it’s more fun to stay behind at school while everyone else heads out.

“You know what, let’s just take revenge,” she says casually, scrubbing the walls.

“On who?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Gianna, of course.”

“What do you have in mind?” I ask, even though I know I’m not going to waste time on something as petty as revenge. It’s my last year, and I don’t want to ruin any more chances. I need to make my situation better, not worse.

“We could go to her house and vandalize it.”

“That’s illegal. Besides, it would make us worse than her.”

“You can’t really take revenge and keep a shiny reputation, you know.”

“The answer is no.”

“Ugh, you’re exhausting. That dumb principal didn’t even punish her. If I were you, I’d have called my parents and raised hell in her little office.”

“I can totally picture it.”

“Why haven’t you told your mom yet?”

“I don’t want to worry her. And honestly, I’m not even sure bringing it up would help. I have no idea how to even start that conversation.”

“So, what’s your plan to make everyone forget about this whole mess?”

"I don't know. I’ve been thinking about it all week, and it’s driving me crazy. It's only been a week, and I already can’t sleep. If this goes on for a month, I’ll probably lose it."

She’s quiet for a moment, then suddenly perks up. “Create an even bigger scandal?”

“That’s terrible. What are we supposed to do, murder someone now?”

“I wouldn’t mind. I’ve got a list of people in mind.” She notices my deadpan stare and quickly adds, with a mischievous grin, “I have one idea, but you probably won’t like it.”

“Just tell me,” I say, already dreading what’s coming. The way she’s smiling is the same way you’d smile while suggesting skydiving without a parachute.

She leans in, lowering her voice as if she's about to reveal the theory of how the Earth's flat.“Okay, don’t freak out, but….maybe you should date Alex.”

“What!?” My heart skips a beat. “What do you mean by that? Why are you trying to ruin my life?”

“Hear me out,” she says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Everyone likes Alex, and right now, everyone hates you. They all know how much you two supposedly despise each other. But what if you were to get together?" Looking at my face, she quickly adds, "And don’t freak out—you wouldn’t actually have to date him. Just pretend.”

I blink, trying to process her logic. “So, to make people forget about this, you want me to fake date Alex? Like some kind of celebrity PR stunt?”

“Exactly! It’s the perfect distraction.”

“I am not going to experiment with my life like that.”

“Think about it,” she continues,clearly pleased with herself while I am dying inside at the thought of dating him–even pretending. “I think it’s the best plan ever. Just like how celebrities make everyone forget their scandals. Maybe it's a sudden divorce, going topless, or, best move of all, dating someone completely unexpected and popular.”

This is the worst idea ever. I glance over at Alex, who’s heading toward the school gates. She isn’t wrong—he’s popular. Even now, at the end of the school day, people are stopping to greet him.

I find myself staring at him, my mind racing.He’s popular, yes. He’s well-liked, yes.

Is it really such a terrible idea?

And then, as if sensing my gaze on him, he looks up, his piercing eyes meeting mine. My heart stutters, and I quickly look away, feeling a surge of embarrassment spread across my cheeks. This is the second time today that he’s caught me staring at him.

No, this is a terrible idea. Even if it's just a fake relationship, I'd still have to pretend to be his girlfriend. I can't do this. I’ll think of something else... probably.

Thank you ♡