Chapter 1: The Forum and the Blank Test

After Aubrey and her crew humiliated me again, I posted on a teen advice forum: What’s the best way to make the girl who bullied me pay?

Sitting cross-legged on my faded comforter, I clutched my phone, blocking out the sound of my mom watching TV in the next room. I typed my question with shaky hands, desperate for someone—anyone—to give me hope. The reply came fast, sharper than I expected.

"Probably by becoming the top scorer on the SATs in the whole city. If a school bully messes with you, that’s a slap in the face to the whole district."

It was the kind of answer only someone who’d been there would give—blunt, practical, tinged with bitterness. For a second, I imagined my name on the school website, teachers scrambling to claim me as their success story. I pictured Aubrey’s face, stunned and jealous. But then the doubts crept in: Would it really be revenge, or just another way to make myself the principal’s pawn? I remembered last year’s science fair, when I’d worked for weeks on a project just to please the teachers—only to have them give the ribbon to the mayor’s son. Chasing their approval hadn’t saved me then. Did I really want to do it now?

Still, the message was clear. So after Aubrey shoved my books in the hallway again, I walked into the SATs, filled in my name, and handed in a blank test.

My hand shook as I bubbled in my last initial, heart thudding so hard it hurt. For a split second, I saw my mom’s face—hopeful, tired, counting on me to do better than her. I pressed the answer sheet into the pile, my chest aching like I’d swallowed a stone. It felt reckless, but for the first time in weeks, I wasn’t powerless.

I cried in front of Principal Martin. “I’m sorry, Principal Martin. I let you down. I’ve been bullied at school this whole time, and now I feel like I can’t go here anymore. I can’t even take the SATs.”

The vinyl chair stuck to the backs of my legs, the air thick with the faint smell of lemon cleaner. My voice echoed in the tiny office, making me feel smaller than ever. The clock on the wall ticked, each second stretching out the silence. I forced out every detail—bullied, scared, hopeless—until my throat was raw.

The next day, our sleepy Ohio county was buzzing. By lunchtime, my name was on every group chat in town. Even my neighbor, Mrs. Haskins, texted my mom: “Is June okay?”

Parents called the school board. Local Facebook groups exploded with hashtags. The news station called Principal Martin for a comment. For once, people cared what happened to me—and not just because of my family’s mess. Now the whispers were about the school’s failure, not my mother’s job.

The authorities launched a special campaign to catch the bullies—for me.

Suddenly, I was a Harvard prospect, a living billboard for the district. The school board watched me like I was their lottery ticket, and nobody wanted to risk their pride—or their funding—on a scandal.

For a moment, I wasn’t just the girl with the busted-up home. I was the county’s best shot at glory, and everyone scrambled to protect me.