Chapter 4: Princess Complex and Retaliation

Four

Starting the next day, Lauren began targeting me.

It wasn't just the small digs anymore. She made it her mission to turn every moment into a joke at my expense. It was like being in the center of a group chat where everyone laughs except you—and I started memorizing comebacks I never used.

When I took out pink-packaged tissues, she exclaimed,

She said it loud, waving the package in the air. I blushed, the laughter around me making my stomach twist; I DM’d my best friend under the desk: "Kill me."

"Wow! Even your tissues have to be pink! Are you trying to be Barbie?"

The boys snickered, one of them pretending to hold up an imaginary tiara. I gritted my teeth and swallowed the joke I’d rehearsed.

During cleaning, I wiped the broom handle with a wet wipe, and she winked at the boys.

The wet wipe was strawberry-scented, something my mom always put in my bag. The sweet smell mixed with chalk dust and pencil shavings, and Lauren rolled her eyes theatrically, tipping her chin toward the guys at the back of the room.

"Princess complex is here."

She said it like it was a medical diagnosis, and the class laughed again. My cheeks burned, but I kept wiping.

When the teacher updated the seating chart, I got tired moving my desk and wanted to rest for a bit. Lauren shouted in class:

She jumped onto her desk, waving her hand like a game show host. "Hey, guys, come help the princess!" she called. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug crescents into my palms.

"Princess can’t move! Hurry, a few knights, come help the princess move!"

Three boys leapt up, pretending to bow and offer their hands. I almost cried from embarrassment, but forced myself to keep my head down and ignore them.

Every time, the boys who got along with her would play along, laughing even harder.

They fed off her energy, like this was the best entertainment they'd had all semester. Ms. Ramirez looked uncomfortable and warned, "Let’s keep it respectful, please," but the jokes kept coming.

At first, Derek felt it was inappropriate and would try to stop them.

He’d scowl, muttering, "Cut it out, Lauren," but she never listened. He gave up after a while, sinking into his seat with his headphones on.

But Lauren would just shrug and say, "Just kidding, Natalie always acts so prim, I’m helping her get along with classmates."

Her voice was syrupy sweet, like she was doing me a favor by humiliating me in front of everyone. It made my blood boil.

Hearing this, Derek nodded thoughtfully.

He seemed to buy it, the way boys do when they don’t want to pick a side. A warning bell rang in my head.

"Natalie does have a bit of a princess act. Are all girls like this nowadays?"

He tried to laugh it off, looking around for approval. I clocked the gendered swipe and tucked it away—another tiny cut.

Lauren punched his shoulder.

She made it look playful, but there was a warning in her eyes. "Don't lump me in with them," she teased, drawing a few more laughs.

"Hey, hey, hey, I’m not like that. Don’t lump me in with them."

She winked at the boys, and someone gave her a high five. It was like I was the punchline to a joke everyone but me understood.

Derek laughed.

It was short, almost forced. The kind of laugh that tries to smooth things over but makes it worse.

My heart felt sour. Honestly, I always knew Derek thought I was delicate and temperamental.

I replayed every moment—his sighs, the way he rolled his eyes at my pink pencil case. I told myself it didn't matter, but it did.

Maybe for most boys, liking pink, being a neat freak, and being weak means you have princess syndrome.

I wondered if I’d ever fit in, or if I was always destined to be the odd one out. I looked down at my hands and wished I could change them.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

The jokes, the looks, the constant sense that I was one wrong move away from total humiliation—it all built up inside me like a storm.

That summer, I went to the beach with my parents and got a lot tanner.

We drove out to the shore in Dad's old minivan, blasting classic rock, the wind tangling my hair. I came back with sand in my shoes and skin a few shades darker. I didn't think much of it.

Actually, it happened before—usually if I stayed home for half a month, I’d get pale again, so I didn’t care.

My mom called it my "summer glow." I liked the way I looked—healthier, stronger. I wore my new color with pride.

After vacation, not long after school started, I wore a pink shirt under my uniform.

It was my favorite—bubblegum pink with tiny sparkles. It made me feel like myself, even when everything else was changing.

Lauren saw it and raised her voice dramatically.

She spotted me in the hallway, her voice cutting through the crowd like a siren. Heads turned, the usual audience gathering.

"Oh my god! Natalie, you’re so tan and you still wear pink? Don’t you think that looks ridiculous?"

She dragged out the word "ridiculous," letting it hang in the air. A couple of kids exchanged looks; one boy muttered, "Dude, not cool."

"No, seriously, I’m dying. How can you be a princess like this? What pink royalty shows up this dark? More like Barbie cosplay gone wrong, hahahahaha..."

She laughed, her friends howling with her. The sound bounced off the lockers, echoing through the hallway. I gripped my backpack tighter, wishing I could disappear.

She and a few boys laughed together. Even Derek seemed to find it funny, the corners of his mouth lifting.

He tried to hide it, but I saw. The sight of it crushed me—harder than anything Lauren ever said.

At that moment, a wave of helplessness and shame overwhelmed me, my blood rushed to my head, and I clenched my fists.

The sting behind my eyes was almost unbearable. I felt like a stranger in my own skin, fighting tears with every ounce of strength I had left.

In their laughter, I picked up my water bottle and splashed it on her face.

The cold water caught her by surprise, mascara running in black rivers down her cheeks. "Hey!" a custodian barked from down the hall as it splattered on the floor.

Lauren was stunned, frantically wiping her wet face.

She glared at me with wild eyes, grabbing tissues from her bag and dabbing at her makeup.

She was wearing makeup, and the water messed it up.

Pink blush smeared, foundation streaked. She looked nothing like the perfect girl she pretended to be. I knew we’d probably both get called to the office.

"What the hell... are you crazy?!"

She shrieked, voice cracking. The boys stared, unsure whether to laugh or step back.

I imitated her, "Coming to school with false lashes, foundation, and lipstick—no wonder you’re not a princess, you’re here to make people laugh, right? Just an actress."

My words tumbled out, sharp and fast. I didn't care about the consequences—just wanted her to feel even a fraction of what she'd done to me.

A few boys frowned and blocked me, led by Derek, who snatched the bottle from my hand.

He stepped between us, face hard, eyes narrowed. The bottle was cold in his grip, condensation dripping onto the tile.

"Natalie, apologize."

His voice was cold, unforgiving. He looked at me like I was the problem, like everything Lauren did was just a joke gone too far.

He looked down at me, frowning, cold.

His jaw was tight, lips pressed into a thin line. I barely recognized him.

My eyes were red, staring at him.

I wanted to scream, to make him see what he was doing, but all I could do was glare.

"Didn’t you hear what she said to me? She called me ridiculous and tried to humiliate me."

My voice was shaky, but I stood my ground. I could see the conflict flicker in his eyes—just for a second.

"That’s different. You already cursed her back. Now you have to apologize for splashing her with water."

He sounded like a teacher reading from a rulebook. It felt so unfair—so wrong—I almost laughed.

"If you do something wrong, admit it. Don’t throw tantrums."

He said it in front of everyone, making sure there was no way out for me. In my head, I heard the silence he kept when others were wrong to me—hypocrisy ringing louder than his words.

He spoke as if it was obvious.

I stared at the floor, wishing I could sink into it. My chest ached, the weight of his words pressing me down.

"Apologize, and Lauren won’t hold it against you."

He tried to sound reasonable, but all I heard was Lauren’s laughter behind him.

I sneered.

It was the only defense I had left. The tears still threatened, but I forced a cold smile.

"Apologize my ass."

The words slipped out, sharp and loud. A few people gasped. Derek’s face changed.

Derek’s eyes widened, and he slapped me hard.

The sound echoed, even louder than the first time. My world spun, my cheek burning. I staggered, but didn't fall. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. The bell rang a minute later, chaos rushed back in, and no administrator appeared to stop me from walking away.