Chapter 10: The Thrill of Being Bad

Monday morning, I went all-in. I poured ink in Rachel’s desk, mocked her Southern accent in class—"Y’all want some sweet tea with that Shakespeare?"—and shredded her physics test, tossing the confetti over her head.

The whole class went silent, the only sound the buzz of the ancient projector and Rachel’s shaky breaths. She stared at me, hatred in her eyes, but she only managed to sob: "I’m sorry, Madison. If I did something wrong, I’ll fix it, okay?"

"Your existence upsets me." I smirked. "How will you fix that? Want me to recommend a bridge?"

The words tasted bitter even as I said them, but I needed everyone to see me as the villain now.

She kept crying, mascara streaking down her cheeks. No wonder people chose the dark side—it was addictive.

Of course, she tattled. The teacher called me in. I turned on the waterworks, describing my humiliation at the party, and slid a crisp note from my therapist across the desk, the school’s guidance counselor’s signature at the bottom.

The teacher ended up comforting me, not her.

Even Sarah was confused: "Why are you targeting her? Did she hook up with your boyfriend or something?"

I smiled, eyes cold. "Can’t a rich bitch just pick on the new kid? Isn’t that the story they want?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "If you were really like that, you’d bully me. My family lives in a trailer. You bought my school supplies and a laptop on day one. I know basic logic."

Yeah. Everyone got it—except my brother and Tyler.