Chapter 4: The Bathroom Gauntlet

Megan wasn’t wrong—Ryan’s cruelty found me even sooner this time.

First week at Oakview High, I got cornered in the boys’ bathroom. Cold water slammed over my head, the laughter echoing so loud it rattled my teeth. My cheeks burned with shame as I gripped the sink, hands shaking so hard I could barely hold myself up.

Just as my lungs started to burn, Ryan yanked me up by the collar. His grin was all sharp edges.

"You want a piece of the Grant fortune? Fine. Drink up. Every gulp from the toilet’s worth a grand. How about it?"

His cronies cackled, like it was open mic night at my expense.

For a second, I looked at Ryan—at the boy who, in another life, whispered love confessions under the Homecoming lights, now treating me like I was nothing.

But Ryan wasn’t even seeing me. His eyes slid right past, landing on someone else.

I didn’t have to look. Megan was there, hunched on her knees, scrubbing the hallway floor.

"Isn’t that Megan Sanders?"

"Why’s she still cleaning after hours?"

One of Ryan’s friends piped up, "Her mom’s the janitor. Megan helps out every night."

A flicker of something—maybe guilt—crossed Ryan’s face, then protectiveness.

He called, "Hey, it’s freezing. Knock it off. No one’s gonna check tonight."

Megan stood, her hair tumbling down in perfect waves, her face set and stubborn.

She shook her head, voice firm. "If the floors aren’t spotless, my mom loses a hundred bucks. That’s a week of groceries. I know a hundred’s nothing to you, but it’s everything to us."

She bent down again, milking the moment—her hair just so, her eyes wide and glistening.

Ryan fell for it, big time.

He strode over, pulled Megan up, tossed her rag to a friend, and barked, "Help her finish up, guys."

Noticing her chapped hands, he shrugged off his varsity jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

"How are you getting home?"

"Bike."

"It’s below freezing—you’re not biking. Go wait out front. My family’s driver will take you."

Megan slipped out, shielded by Ryan. Before she left, she shot me a smirk—triumphant, mocking.

The crowd melted away, leaving me alone in the echoing bathroom.

I picked myself up, water streaming down my face, and wrung out my hair with my sleeve. My hands still trembled.

"Here."

A low, even voice broke the silence.

I turned. Emily Park—class president—stood there, holding out a fresh towel.

She was always in the back row, sleeves over her hands, never drawing attention. In my last life, she was the only one who’d offered Megan a hand during the worst of it. Megan had just slapped her away, hissing, "What do you know? That’s my brother."

After that, Emily faded away. No one knew her home life was hell: a sick grandma, a gambling-addict dad who tried to sell her to pay off his debts.

She didn’t last through senior year.

Now, she was here, silent but kind. She handed me the towel. I hesitated, then took it, drying my face. She started to leave, expecting nothing from the Grant family’s new princess.

"Hey—President."

She paused.

I scratched my head, searching for words. "I, uh… just transferred. Where’s the cafeteria? Can you show me around?"