Chapter 2

Gwen

I walked out of the bathroom and didn't go to the Yale interview room. I walked straight past it, heading for the vacant classroom where the Stanford alumni rep was waiting.

The interviewer definitely flinched when I walked in with my hacked-up hair.

I just took a deep breath and focused on the questions.

Maybe it was my forced calm, or maybe it was my actual answers. But halfway through, his eyes shifted from my jagged hairline to my face. He nodded approvingly.

"Hope to see you on campus in the fall, Gwen."

I walked out with sweaty palms and a racing heart.

Chase and I used to have this unspoken pact to go to the exact same college. It was the only reason I pushed myself so hard.

But after texting my mom in that bathroom, I was done. He was no longer in my playbook.

That night, our families had our usual Sunday dinner.

Mom whispered something to Mrs. Harrington. They excused themselves and went into the den.

Chase sat across from me, playing with his food. He finally looked up. "So? How did the interview go?"

I looked down at my plate. "Great. He said he hopes to see me on campus."

Chase's face dropped. He slammed his fork down.

"Seriously? Sloane came out of her room crying because her interviewer gave her nothing. You already have the grades to get in anywhere, Gwen. Why did you have to go in there and hog the spot? That's so selfish."

Selfish?

I looked at his perfect, golden-boy face. I just smirked.

"My hair literally got butchered this morning to help her, and you're mad I might score higher than Sloane?"

He flinched. "That's entirely different. I just didn't want Sloane getting hurt doing that street dare."

He leaned in closer, dropping his voice. "She's not like you, Gwen. She's gorgeous. What if some creep actually grabbed her?"

She's not like you.

Those words completely hollowed me out.

I just nodded numbly. Right then, Mom and Mrs. Harrington walked back into the dining room. Mom's eyes were red. She grabbed her purse and told me it was time to go.

Chase looked panicked. He grabbed my wrist. "What were they talking about in there?"

He hadn't willingly touched me in years.

I yanked my arm back. "Nothing."

I looked straight into his nervous eyes.

"Just talking about our future. But it doesn't matter, Chase. We don't have one anymore."

Monday morning. The second I walked into homeroom, all eyes snapped to my head.

"Whoa, nice lawnmower cut, Gwen!"

"Did you get into a fight with a weed whacker?"

The lacrosse guys in the back burst out laughing.

Chase was sitting right in the middle of them. He was smirking too. But when his eyes met mine, his smile completely froze.

It stung, but I broke eye contact. I ignored the whispers, walked to my desk, and pulled out my laptop.

When the bell rang, our advisor stood up. It was time for the Student Body President election.

I walked up to the podium with my chopped-up hair. I'd been the acting president all semester, so I already knew the job inside and out. It gave me the exact confidence I needed.

The guys in the back didn't stop snickering. My hands shook the entire time, but I didn't use my notes. I delivered my speech perfectly.

When I finished, my advisor started clapping. Slowly, the girls joined in.

I exhaled. I actually felt a tiny wave of pride.

Then Sloane stood up.

She walked to the front wearing her cheer uniform, her long blonde hair practically glowing. Next to her, I looked like actual garbage.

Sloane read from a crumpled piece of notebook paper. She threw out some generic buzzwords about "making memories." Halfway through, she purposely lost her place, blushed, and stuck her tongue out.

The guys went wild. They clapped and cheered.

I didn't smile.

We passed around the ballots. The advisor tallied them on the board.

It was a dead tie.

The teacher looked at the back row. "Chase? You didn't submit a ballot. We need a tie-breaker."

The whole room went dead silent.

Chase stood up. His blazer was unbuttoned, looking effortlessly perfect. He walked down the aisle.

I watched him, my throat burning.

I knew I shouldn't hold on to any hope.

But a tiny, pathetic voice in my head wouldn't shut up. What if?

What if he remembered middle school? When I was crying in the bathroom, and he dragged me out to give my first speech. When he bribed half the grade with Skittles to vote for me. When he hugged me after I won and said, "That's my Gwen."

What if he remembered that being on student council was the only thing that made the fat girl feel useful?

Chase reached the front. He handed his folded paper to the teacher.

The room was absolutely quiet as the teacher unfolded it.

"Sloane Kensington, twenty-five. Gwen Hayes, twenty-four."

The teacher looked at me. "Sloane is our new president. Gwen, please hand over your files after class."

I sat frozen in my chair. The cheering around me sounded like static.

Chase walked back to his seat. He didn't look at me once.

I stared down at my desk. A single tear dropped onto my notebook. The girl next to me panicked and started awkwardly patting my shoulder.

Ten years.

I did the work for ten years. From him bribing kids with candy, to me actually earning the spot with my own sweat.

He knew exactly what this title meant to a girl who spent her whole life hiding her body. It was my only scrap of confidence.

And he ripped it away without a second thought. Just for Sloane.

I couldn't even choke out an "I'm fine."

That sweet little boy with the Skittles was dead.

The guy sitting behind me was just the lacrosse captain. The golden boy. Sloane's guy.

He wasn't my Chase anymore.