Chapter 3

Without another word, I ignored his stunned expression and stepped right onto the bus.

As the doors hissed shut, I watched him standing frozen on the curb, his brows furrowed as if he was still trying to process my words. 

But I didn't care anymore. 

My future had absolutely nothing to do with him.

Winter came early to Boston. 

For me, the final stretch of high school came down to just two things: waiting for my acceptance letter from Stanford, and watching myself lose weight day by day, the contours of my face finally sharpening in the mirror. 

But Henry and Madison clearly had no intention of letting my high school life end in peace.

In December, the Student Council elections rolled around. As the Head of the Academics Committee, it was only natural for me to submit my application for Student Body President. 

It would be the ultimate proof of my four years of hard work, and a crucial addition to my college apps. 

Yet, on the day the candidate list was posted, I saw Madison's name. 

She was running for President, too.

On the day of the campaign speeches, I stood under the auditorium spotlights in a tailored blazer. My speech, delivered entirely from memory, was airtight and logical, earning rounds of applause from the crowd. 

Madison's speech, on the other hand, was completely devoid of substance—aside from emphasizing how she "boosted school spirit" as cheer captain. During the Q&A, she stumbled over her words, totally dodging the actual questions.

It was crystal clear who the better candidate was.

But when it came down to the final vote, the deciding power landed squarely in the hands of the current President: Henry. 

Because, in a dramatic twist, Madison and I had tied in the student representative vote. 

All eyes in the auditorium shifted to Henry. 

He stood by the ballot box, his gaze darting back and forth between Madison and me. 

Madison bit her lower lip, giving him this pathetic, puppy-dog look. 

I just stood there calmly, watching him. The sunlight outlined his lean silhouette. 

Henry pursed his lips and stood up straight. Tall, his school uniform jacket hanging open casually, he took slow steps toward the podium. 

I stared at him, my eyes burning. 

Even though I had already given up all hope on him... a tiny voice in the back of my mind still whispered. 

What if?

What if he remembered that back in elementary school, he was the one who pushed a crying me onto the stage? That he was the one who bought candy for our classmates to bribe them into voting for me? That he had smiled even brighter than I did when I won, bragging, "Our Sloane is number one."

What if he remembered me telling him that being class president made me feel like I wasn't totally useless?

"I've decided to cast my tie-breaking vote... for Madison."

Henry's voice echoed through the auditorium. 

A wave of whispers immediately broke out in the crowd. Even Madison covered her mouth in disbelief.

After the assembly, Henry stopped me in the hallway. 

He looked a bit flustered, desperately trying to explain himself. "Sloane, listen to me. I didn't vote against you on purpose."

I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at him. "And?"

"You're already the Head of Academics, and your grades are flawless. You don't need this title to prove anything." He took a deep breath, putting on this wildly self-righteous front. "But Madison is different. We're about to graduate, and she literally has nothing on her resume except cheerleading. Letting her be President this once... it's just letting her experience it so she doesn't have any regrets from high school. You can understand that, right?"

Looking at his self-entitled face, a wave of nausea washed over me. 

Using my blood, sweat, and tears to make up for his little girlfriend's "high school regrets." 

How could he dress up his blatant favoritism and selfishness so beautifully?

"Henry." I cut off his rambling. 

He stopped and looked at me. 

"You don't need to explain yourself to me." I stared dead into his eyes, enunciating every single word. "Because I literally do not care."

He froze. He clearly hadn't expected this reaction from me. 

The old me would have confronted him with red-rimmed eyes, demanding to know why after facing such injustice. 

But now? I couldn't even spare a single ounce of anger for him.

"What do you mean?" He furrowed his brows, a hint of panic creeping into his tone. "Sloane, are you still mad about the interview thing? I told you..."

"I said, I don't care." I cut him off again, my voice as cold as ice. "Vote for whoever you want. Kiss up to whoever you want. It has absolutely nothing to do with me."

I didn't give him another chance to speak. I turned on my heel and strode down the hallway. 

Walking out into the biting Boston wind, I reached into my pocket and touched my phone. 

Sitting quietly in my inbox was an unread email. 

Sender: Stanford University Admissions.

Subject: Congratulations on your admission to Stanford!

I took a deep breath of the freezing air, a genuine smile finally curling on my lips. 

Play your stupid little games all you want. 

I'm done playing in this toxic mud pit with you.