Chapter 3: From Doormat to Dark Horse

So the infamous doormat Heather Lane stopped simping for Carter Morgan and finally got serious about school. Everyone thought it was a joke—no teacher expected me to improve. It wasn’t the first time, after all. Whenever I found out Carter was too close to another girl, I’d buckle down to make him jealous. As soon as he coaxed me, I’d drop my studies and go back to simping. My grades were just a tool for my petty moods. Those who once hoped I’d make a comeback were all disappointed.

But this time, something was different. The anger in my chest wasn’t about Carter. Or jealousy. It was about me. About what I’d lost. And what I was finally ready to fight for.

Carter and I gave each other the cold shoulder for a week. I didn’t cave, and he didn’t speak to me either.

At the weekly quiz, Carter scored a 1400—a full 130 points lower than last time, dropping from first to tenth in the class. The whole school was in shock. I just stared at the posted scores, trying not to smile.

The news spread like wildfire. People whispered in the halls, teachers exchanged worried glances. Carter Morgan, the golden boy, had finally fallen.

After the scores came out, Carter was summoned by the homeroom teacher, the assistant principal, and the principal three times. When he returned, he looked drained and shot me a dark look. I met his gaze, chin high. What’s he gonna do, glare me into submission?

I ignored him, organizing my notes, but soon I was called to the office. The homeroom teacher, assistant principal, and principal sat in a row across from me, like a tribunal. I stood straight, eyes on my toes.

They exchanged glances. The assistant principal spoke first, heartbroken. "Heather Lane, if you won’t study, fine, but at least don’t drag others down!"

I looked him in the eye. "Sir, who exactly am I dragging down?"

He dodged the question, picking at my faults instead. "You altered your uniform, didn’t you? Jeans and jacket so tight—what do you think you look like?"

I glanced at my clothes. The uniform was so baggy I could fit another person in it, so I’d tied a knot at the waist to make it less sloppy. I replied calmly, "The rules say don’t alter the uniform. They don’t say you can’t tie a knot."

He got annoyed. "Wear your clothes properly! No wonder you distract the boys!"

"Did Carter say I distracted him?" My patience snapped. "He’s always bothering me in class, interrupting my homework—I haven’t even accused him of harassment yet!"

The homeroom teacher cut in. "Nonsense! Heather Lane, I hate to say this, but as a girl, you have no shame—always chasing Carter. Sure, you entered with top scores. But what now? Don’t blame others for your own failures!"

I took a deep breath, holding back tears and shame, and said calmly:

"I’ve made a lot of mistakes before, but now I know better. I won’t interact with Carter anymore. I’ll focus on my studies."

The principal glanced at the assistant principal, who nodded and tried a gentler approach. "We’re not saying you can’t be friends with Carter. There’s an old saying: it’s hard for a boy to chase a girl, but easy for a girl to get a boy’s attention." (Which basically means: girls have it easy if they want a guy, but boys have to work for it. Whatever.) "A pretty girl like you chasing him so hard—how can a boy your age handle that?"

The more I listened, the colder I felt. Something was off. "So what are you saying, sir?"

He hesitated, but finally said, "After the SATs, do whatever you want. But until then, keep things the way they were with Carter. Don’t affect his studies."

I was stunned. "Are you serious? You’re encouraging me to date before the exams?"

The homeroom teacher scowled. "Nonsense!"

The principal shot her a look, sighed, and spoke kindly. "Of course, the school doesn’t allow dating. But you two were so close, and now, right before exams, you cut him off. Isn’t that irresponsible? Heather, just put up with it for now—don’t ruin his future, okay?"

I shot back, "What about my future?"

He was taken aback, then said gently, "If you want to study, no one will stop you."

I said nothing. He asked, "Well? Have you thought it over?"

I lifted my chin, sneering. "Why should I care about Carter’s future?" The words felt sharp in my mouth. For once, I actually meant them.

His face darkened.

Back in class, I went back to my corrections. Carter handed me a pink matching pen. I didn’t take it.

He smiled shyly. "Desk Buddy, you’ve been working so hard lately. I noticed your pen’s almost out of ink, so I got you a new one."

He held it out like it was some grand gesture, the kind that would’ve melted me months ago.

If I hadn’t heard the app voice, I might have fallen for his sweet act again. I took the pen, felt the cheap plastic—probably less than a dollar from the store across the street. I asked, "What’s this for?"

He waved a matching blue pen. "They’re a pair."

I scribbled on paper. "Weak ink, scratchy, uncomfortable grip—looks good, but useless." I couldn’t help but smirk a little.

I tossed it back. "Get a better one."

Carter looked stunned, like he didn’t know me anymore. He must have thought that a simple pen would make me melt and go back to simping. Too bad—I wasn’t playing that game anymore.

*Host, detected that Heather Lane refused your couple’s pen. Regretfully, Charisma -10. Next test, your score will drop by 10 points.*

Carter snatched my worksheet, desperate. "Desk Buddy, are you still mad because I said we were just desk partners at dinner? I just didn’t want people to get the wrong idea and tell the teachers."

I reached for my paper, anger boiling in my chest. "Give it back."

He dodged, joking around. "Princess Lane, I’m not even mad you skipped out on the bill. Don’t be mad at me."

I shot up. Flipped his desk. Books and novels scattered everywhere. The whole class went silent. Carter stared at me in disbelief.

I glared at him, firing off questions. "Why are you taking my paper? Do you know how close we are to the SATs? You’re not studying, and you won’t let others study—what’s your deal?"

He sheepishly handed it back. "Just joking around. Why take it so seriously?"

I sneered. "Who wants to waste their life on your stupid jokes? By the way, with your status, you couldn’t even book the Bellview. You begged me to ask my dad, and I did. Then you blame me for not paying the bill and spread rumors I skipped out? From now on, we have nothing to do with each other. Don’t bother me again."

I sat down, adding, "Even if you have something to say—don’t."

During class meeting, the homeroom teacher moved my seat next to the trash can by the back door. She even announced to the class, "Some students don’t study, only think about boys, and after reeling them in, dump them, ruining their grades. Trash like that should sit with the trash."

I felt my face burn, but I kept my head down, writing away. Seeing I didn’t react, she sneered, "Thick-skinned. Let’s see how long you can keep up the act!"

In a way, I really am thick-skinned. When I was a doormat, I didn’t care about people’s disdain. When I’m focused on studying, I don’t care about their ridicule either.

At lunch, Jessica came in through the back door, pinching her nose dramatically. "Oh my god, it stinks! You can’t smell it?"

I didn’t look up, didn’t stop writing. "Scram."

She wanted to snap, but when she saw Carter approaching, she switched to a pitiful tone. "I’m only saying this because you’re Carter’s desk partner. Otherwise, I wouldn’t care."

Carter called my name, speaking softly. "Desk Buddy, let’s make up. I’ll ask the teacher to move your seat back."

Me: "You can scram too."

Jessica snapped, "Carter, why bother with someone like her? Come on, I’ll eat with you!"

Just then, I heard the app again.

*Detected that Heather Lane refused your attempt to make up. Regretfully, Charisma -10. Next test, your score will drop by 10 points. Congrats, Host! Jessica invited you to eat together. Charisma +5. Next test, your score will rise by 5 points!*

I looked at Jessica. "You sure you want to eat with Carter? Not afraid your grades will drop and I’ll beat you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Only you would let something like this mess up your grades. I’m not you."

I ignored her.

Cool story. Bless your heart.

When the housekeeper called, I went to the front gate to pick up my lunch and headed to the cafeteria. It was packed. Carter saw me and waved. "Desk Buddy, over here."

I didn’t hesitate, sat down, and started eating. The housekeeper’s food was much better than the cafeteria—delicious in every way. I used to give Carter most of my food and go hungry myself. Now, I ate my fill, ignoring their stares.

Jessica said, "You save a seat for someone, and they just eat by themselves. Carter, don’t be nice to people like that. They’re not worth it."

I scooped up a big bite of crab mac and cheese. Savored it. "Your family own the cafeteria? Where I sit is none of your business."

Jessica: "I just hate to see Carter’s kindness wasted…"

Me: "Not your business."

Jessica: "No wonder Carter doesn’t like you, you’re so rude."

Me: "Still not your business."

She threw down her fork, glaring. "You only talk big. Let’s see how you do on the next test!"

Me: "Still not your business."

…