Chapter 2: Playing Along

Between classes—

Lillian Hayes struts over to my desk with a malicious grin.

“Natalie Carter, second place again, huh? What don’t you get? Need me to tutor you?”

Natalie Carter—that’s the name my mom gave me.

I once complained, saying it sounded old-fashioned.

My mom sneered:

“What, you think you’re too good for the name I gave you? You’re a burden, cost me everything the day you were born. Naming you ‘Natalie’ was already generous. How dare you complain?”

But because of this name, I’ve been dragged into the bathroom by Lillian’s clique more times than I can count.

The bathroom reeked of cheap perfume and bleach. Cold hands shoved me forward, and the laughter echoed off the tile, sharp as broken glass. They’d force my head toward the toilet:

“Aren’t you Natalie Carter? Come on, see if this crap is as special as you are!”

And the smile on Lillian’s face back then—

Is exactly the same as it is now.

I lower my eyes, avoiding her gaze.

“No thanks, Miss Hayes. Your time’s valuable. You should focus on your own work.”

“Oh? Natalie, you care so much about me.”

Lillian gives a knowing smirk. She must think I want her to study hard so I can swap for her SAT score. And she’s happy to play along, ready to destroy me later.

“Not afraid to tell you, starting tomorrow I won’t be coming to school anymore. The teachers here are too slow. My family hired five top tutors for me, all one-on-one, to target my weak spots.”

“By the time college applications roll around, the gap between us will be more than just a little.”

She wears a proud smile, and the chat erupts with American internet flair:

[Lillian is such a boss! She flexes the five tutors just to bait Natalie—supporting character about to get played.]

[But plot twist, Lillian’s just out here living her best life, while the other one’s grinding.]

[Big money, big moves—girl could buy her way into Yale and still be bored.]

Sure enough, after that day, Lillian stopped coming to school.

Once, following the chat’s tips, I secretly went to a bar to watch her.

The place was a dive—sticky floors, neon beer signs, a jukebox stuck on old Green Day. I kept my hood up, hoping nobody from school would spot me. Lillian was hanging out with a bunch of bleach-blond guys. They flirted under the neon lights, drinking and laughing. Then, lips touched, and they headed to a nearby hotel for a wild night.

I didn’t judge. We’re all adults, responsible for our own choices.

As for me, I kept wearing my oversized hoodie and thick glasses, sticking to my routine.

Without Lillian’s bullying, I had more time to study. But I knew she still had plenty of eyes in class, so I pretended to slack off in public—leaving early after class, secretly finding empty classrooms to study alone.

Sometimes I’d duck into the old science wing, the one nobody used anymore, and spread my books across a battered lab table. The smell of old chalk and hand sanitizer was comforting. I set a timer on my phone, heart thumping as I drilled practice tests in total silence.

Since Lillian wants to put on a show, I’ll play along.

I’m really curious—When Lillian finds out the scores weren’t swapped, what kind of face will she make?