Chapter 3: A New Desk, A New Legend

I’d always been careful, always kept my crush tucked away like a secret. But that night, something broke loose.

But after I confessed, he seemed to change. He went from being indifferent to being disgusted by me.

His eyes, once warm, grew cold. It was like a door had slammed shut, and I was left standing outside.

In the evening study hall, his handwriting on the booklet was impossible to ignore.

The letters were sharp, almost angry. I tried not to look, but my eyes kept drifting back to the page.

Sharp strokes, just like his personality.

Every letter seemed to cut into the paper, as if he wanted to make sure everyone saw.

I looked back at Tyler. He stared at me coldly, not a hint of emotion in his eyes.

He looked right through me, like I was just another face in the crowd. It stung more than I wanted to admit.

The sun I'd once admired was now as cold as the light in a refrigerator.

It’s funny how quickly someone can go from being your everything to being a stranger. The warmth was gone, replaced by a chill I couldn’t shake.

All the boys in class held their breath, waiting to see how I'd react.

It was a test, and I knew it. Everyone was watching, waiting for me to break. I could feel their eyes on me, heavy as stones.

Ugly and thin-skinned? Then you're doomed.

I knew the rules. If I cried, I’d never live it down. If I got angry, they’d just laugh.

My pen spun quickly in my hand, falling onto the booklet several times.

I tried to steady my nerves, focusing on the feel of the pen between my fingers. My palms were sweaty, but I forced myself to breathe.

I took a deep breath, wrote my own name in bold, then turned the booklet around for everyone to see. "I vote for myself too."

The words came out stronger than I expected. I looked each of them in the eye, daring them to say something. For a moment, no one did.

If you don't want to be mocked, beat them to it.

There’s a strange power in owning the things people use against you. I held my head high, refusing to let them see me flinch.

That night, the boys hung their heads even lower.

I think, for a moment, they realized what they’d done. Or maybe they just didn’t know what to say.

After school, several boys who had voted for me came to apologize. They said it was just a joke, even said that if my pimples cleared up, I'd actually be pretty good-looking.

Their apologies were awkward, fumbling. I could tell they didn’t really know how to make things right. But I appreciated the effort, even if it didn’t change much.

I smiled and told them it was fine, because I truly didn't care how they saw me.

I tried to mean it. I really did. Some days I even convinced myself it was true.

As for Tyler, I didn't want to care anymore, either.

It was easier said than done. Letting go of a crush is like quitting a bad habit—you have to do it over and over again, every day.

That night, I stopped him at the alley entrance and let out everything I'd been holding in.