Chapter 3

Seeing Ms. Albright, I felt a surge of hope, like grasping a lifeline.

But Brittany beat me to it. Her face instantly crumpled into a mask of tearful injustice, her voice catching as she appeared utterly helpless.

"Teacher, she's bullying me!"

She pointed at me, sobbing. "I just wanted to study quietly for my grad school applications. I saw this spot was empty, so I sat down."

"Who knew she'd start screaming at me, saying I stole her spot, and calling me names..."

As she spoke, tears streamed down her face like a broken faucet.

"...She even said people like me would never get into grad school and should just go back to the sticks and farm. I got upset and argued back, and then she just..."

She cried, secretly glancing at me from the corner of her eye, a triumphant smirk hidden beneath her tears.

Ms. Albright, a stern-looking woman in her fifties with bifocals, frowned as she listened to Brittany's tearful account. Then she turned to me, her eyes filled with disapproval.

"Look, I understand everyone's under a lot of stress with grad school applications. But you can't be so aggressive over a study spot."

I couldn't believe my ears.

"Teacher, *she* stole my spot first, she threw my books on the floor, she poured coffee on me, and she ripped my book!"

I pointed at the mess on the floor and the coffee stains on my face, trying to prove I was telling the truth.

Ms. Albright pushed up her glasses, her tone laced with impatience.

"It's just a spot, what's the big deal? Why couldn't you just let her have it? You're a university student, for crying out loud. Where's your composure?"

She then turned to Brittany, her voice instantly softening.

"Now, now, sweetie, don't cry. Just sit down and study. Don't let a small thing like this ruin your mood. Grad school is important."

Brittany immediately stopped crying, flashing me a victorious smile, then calmly sat down and opened her study materials.

I stood there, frozen, feeling like a complete fool.

My chest felt crushed by a giant boulder, making it hard to breathe.

When did the world become so twisted, where the bad guy cries foul first and gets support?

"Teacher, there are security cameras here! You can check the footage!" I said, clutching at a last shred of hope.

Ms. Albright waved her hand, a 'don't bother me' expression on her face.

"Check what footage? It's not worth the hassle for such a petty squabble."

"Alright, alright, everyone back to what you were doing. Don't disturb other students."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone, subjected to the strange stares of those around me. Some held sympathy, some contempt, but most were just curious onlookers.

I looked at Brittany's smug face, at my ripped-up book on the floor, at the coffee stains drying on my skin.

A chill ran from my feet straight to the top of my head.

Slowly, I knelt down, picking up the torn pieces one by one. Each fragment felt like a knife twisting in my heart.

Brittany's friend, Courtney, another grad school applicant, walked past me with a water bottle. She feigned an "oops," tilting the bottle, and half its contents spilled all over the wet paper I'd just gathered.

"Oh, my bad, butterfingers," she said, though a smirk played on her lips.

Brittany laughed too. "Well, now. You won't be able to piece *that* back together."

I looked up, my eyes bloodshot, glaring intensely at them.

The two girls flinched under my stare, their smiles fading, and they quickly walked away.

I stopped picking up the pieces. Instead, I slowly stood up and walked to Brittany's desk.

"I'm going to say this one last time. Get out of my spot."

My voice was quiet, but it was colder than ice.

Brittany was momentarily taken aback by my intensity, but quickly regained her arrogant composure.

"Who are you trying to scare? I'm not moving. What are you going to..."

She didn't get to finish her sentence.

I grabbed the thick grad school English vocabulary book from her desk and slammed it straight into her face.