Shattering the Prom Queen Lies

I only took three days off for an ovarian cyst removal.

But Kendal, the undisputed golden girl of Westview High, had already posted on the schools anonymous gossip forum.

A certain straight-A junior is out sick? Just bumped into her at the OB-GYN clinic. IYKYK.

Below it was a photo of my back, clad in a faded hospital gown, clutching my medical file.

Overnight, the entire school "knew" that the quiet scholarship girl was getting an abortion.

When I brought my medical records to class, they whispered that anyone could forge a piece of paper. When I said it was a cyst, they scoffed. A cyst? Probably a complication from the abortion.

I went to my homeroom teacher for help. He just sighed, adjusted his glasses, and told me that if my conscience was clear, I shouldn't make a mountain out of a molehill.

In my past life, that rumor became a death sentence. It attracted the absolute worst kind of attention. Local dropouts harassed me until the sheer weight of the depression pulled me under. I took my own life.

My mother had held my freezing body, her wails tearing through the thin walls of our apartment. That same afternoon, she hanged herself from the old oak tree behind our building.

I blinked.

The sterile light of my bedroom came into focus. I was back. Back to the exact day Kendal posted that rumor.

I stared at the forum thread, already trending at the top of the page. My pulse didn't race; it felt strangely, terrifyingly calm. I hit reply, attaching a photo of my own.

It was a picture of Kendal from that exact same afternoon, standing in the corridor of the exact same OB-GYN clinic. The digital timestamp was identical to the moment she had supposedly "bumped" into me.

What a coincidence, I typed. Were you there for an abortion, too?

...

Those few words hit the boiling forum like a block of dry ice.

The anonymous comments, which had been a carnival of cruelty a second ago, froze.

Silence.

A heavy, suffocating minute of absolute silence.

Then, my phone started vibrating so violently it felt like it might shatter in my palm.

[Holy shit? What is happening? Did Dora just snap?]

[Did she seriously just tag Kendal? With a photo?!]

[Is that pic real? Why the hell would Kendal be at the women's clinic?]

[Look at the timestamp, idiots. Its exactly when Kendal posted her pic. Same hospital!]

I stared at the screen, my fingertips ice-cold.

In my last life, I had sat in this exact spot, shivering and sobbing until I threw up, typing out frantic, pathetic defenses.

I didn't do it.

I was actually sick.

Please, you have to believe me.

My begging had only fueled their sadism.

In this life, I wasn't going to explain a damn thing. I was simply going to hand the knife back to the girl who had tried to push me into the abyss.

My screen lit up with a direct message from Kendal. She replied almost instantly, dripping with her trademark, perfectly manufactured innocence.

Dora? Why would you post something like that?

You know I was there visiting my sick aunt!

Did you misunderstand something? Please take the post down, people are going to get the wrong idea.

A second later, an incoming call from her popped up.

I hit decline.

The junior class group chat exploded next. Someone had screenshotted my forum reply and tagged everyone.

Get in here! The nerd is going to war!

Straight-A vs. Prom Queen, lets go!

Kendals shadow and best friend, Becca, immediately jumped into the fray.

What is your problem, Dora? You do something disgusting and try to drag Kendal down with you?

Kendal was just looking out for you as a friend! She was worried you were going down a dark path, and this is how you repay her?

Photoshopping pictures now? Do you have no shame?

Friend?

A dry laugh scraped the back of my throat.

In my last life, Becca was the first one to corner me in the locker room and call me a whore. She was the one who dumped my textbooks out of the third-floor window, watching me scramble in the dirt like a dog to pick them up.

I didn't bother replying to the group chat. I refreshed the forum.

Kendal had updated her original post. She didn't delete it, but she edited the caption, adopting a tone of devastating, tearful betrayal.

I am so sorry, everyone. I never meant for this to blow up. I was just genuinely worried about a classmate and afraid she was being taken advantage of. I took the photo in the hospital hallway by accident. I admit my phrasing was poor, and I apologize for the misunderstanding.

But I never expected Dora to use a photoshopped image to retaliate against me.

I was at the hospital visiting my aunt. The OB-GYN clinic is on the third floor, and the cardiology wing is on the fifth. I was just passing by the stairwell.

Dora, I know you have a lot of pride because of your grades, but you cant drag an innocent person through the mud just to cover up your own mistakes. Please, take the post down. Youre really scaring me.

She even attached a selfie in the comments. No makeup, eyes rimmed red, a single tear clinging to her lashes.

Beautiful. Tragic. Vulnerable.

The narrative flipped instantly.

[I knew it. Kendal is way too sweet to do something like that.]

[So the nerd got embarrassed and resorted to deepfakes?]

[That is purely evil. She gets knocked up and tries to blame the nicest girl in school? Psycho behavior.]

[Poor Kendal. Sending hugs.]

[Expel Dora!]

Reading the vitriol, I felt a familiar, phantom grip around my heart. It squeezed, leaving me breathless.

Same formula. Same execution.

Seize the moral high ground, play the bleeding-heart victim, and let the mob do the dirty work. Kendal had always been a maestro at orchestrating human cruelty.

My phone buzzed again. It was my mother.

Her voice was thick, trembling with unshed tears.

"Dora, honey... are you okay?"

"I saw some... some awful things on the internet..."

"How can they say those things about you? Don't you worry, sweetie. I believe you. I'm going up to that school tomorrow to talk to your principal!"

In my last life, she said the exact same words.

And she went. A working-class woman who spent her days scanning barcodes at the local grocery store, wearing her only decent blouse, carrying a tin of homemade cookies to offer the staff.

Mr. Harris had stood in the middle of the crowded faculty room, looking at her with thinly veiled disgust.

"Ma'am, we are fully aware of your daughter's situation," he had sighed loudly. "What she needs right now is to reflect on her own behavior, not have her mother causing a scene and damaging Westview's reputation."

My mothers face had burned crimson. She had stood outside the school gates for hours, clutching that tin of cookies. She aged ten years in a single afternoon.

Not this time. I would burn the world down before I let anyone humiliate her like that again.

I took a slow, shuddering breath, forcing my voice to sound light.

"Mom, I'm fine."

"Don't go to the school. Don't talk to the teachers."

"Trust me. I can handle this myself."

There was a long silence on the other end, finally breaking into a muffled, desperate sob.

"Dora, please... please just don't do anything stupid..."

I hung up and looked out at the ink-black night beyond my window. The bone-deep chill of my past life still lingered in my marrow.

I wasn't going to do anything stupid.

This time, the stupidity belonged to them.

I opened my direct messages with Kendal and typed, letter by letter.

Are you sure you were just passing by the third floor, Kendal?

She replied instantly.

Of course! What do you want, Dora? Will you only be happy when my life is ruined?

I smiled at the screen. A slow, cold smile.

I don't want anything. Just wanted to offer a friendly reminder.

If you were just visiting your aunt, it's interesting that you wore those stilettos and that incredibly short skirt.

Right before you got in the elevator, you used the reflection of the doors to fix your hair and reapply your lip gloss.

Tell me, Kendal. Were you there to visit your aunt... or your uncle?