𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ✔️

Chapter Twenty-Seven

By the time the new school week arrived, Alessia's plan to absolutely and irreversibly ruin me was in play. And it was succeeding.

When I, Olivia Clark, walked into school in the morning, arm linked through Dylan's, I received a few looks, and whispers were passed right before me. I suspected that maybe they had figured out that the vandalism was on my belongings, or that they were curious to why I missed several days of school.

I never for one second anticipated what the real problem was. Alessia was standing beside a girl from the dance team as she was at her locker, finding a spare CD full of all the songs we were using for the competition. Alessia watched, arms crossed as she leaned against the lockers, as Dylan and I walked through the corridor.

I didn't notice Alessia; she was unseen but saw everything. And she knew it.

She watched as I uncomfortably walked with Dylan past all the huddles of peoples, scowling as Dylan leaned down and whispered something to me.

I remembered what he had said.

"Don't worry, they're all staring at you because you look so pretty,"

Alessia watched as I beamed, then as Dylan pulled back and smiled down at me. She huffed, spinning around and facing the girl and away from Dylan and I. No matter what Alessia did, she noticed that I always remained content and happy. She feared that this would all blow over, and everyone would love me once more. After all, Alessia thought Olivia Clark was one of the most loved people in the school.

The girl from the dance team, Bailey, who Alessia hadn't cared to remember the name of, finally handed her the CD, smiling at her. Alessia pulled a fake smile before spinning around and striding away.

I honestly don't ponder for a minute how Alessia got in this state. She has absolutely no compassion in her body. Somebody finally stops, sees her and shows her kindness, and she can't even thank the girl.

There was also Lucas, the boy who cared most about Alessia. But she did not care even a fraction about him. She seemed to recoil at the presence of someone who showed her kindness. Maybe that's what bullying does to someone; she expects everyone to hate her, and so when they don't, she doesn't know what to do. So she hates them so that they'll hate her, and then she knows what to do. Then everything is normal again.

I couldn't help but also consider the possibility that her dad had something to do with her coldness. Alessia has obviously been abused, and for a while now. She bears scars both on her skin and in her mind. I can just tell. Maybe it has always happened, maybe he has never loved her, and maybe that's why she has never expected anything else from anyone else.

Dylan often tells me I'm so good and reading people, and that it's one of the most prevalent reasons why everyone is so kind to me. I can tell when someone is upset, and so I ask them if they're okay, I can tell when someone is happy, and so I ask them what they're happy about, I can tell when someone is annoyed at me, and so I confront them. It means I have hardly any enemies and many friends.

It may be a trait that Dylan loves about me, but it's Alessia's least favourite trait of mine. She thought she'd have to avoid my eyes for fear of being found out for vandalising my locker and possessions—as if I would ever be able to read someone that skillfully.

Alessia walked towards the library, seeking some quiet time. She sat down at one of the tables, pulling out all the many pieces of homework that were now overdue. I guess this is what happens when I leave Alessia to her own devices.