Page 59 of What Goes Around

But now?

Now I didn’t care.

I studied. I raised my hand. I answered questions before anyone else even processed them. And one by one, every test came back with the same neat verdict stamped at the top:

100%.

Perfect.

Exceptional improvement.

Teachers praised me openly. And across the classroom, I felt Apple staring.

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Her fingers clenched around her pen.

During English, Mrs. Holmes handed back our research papers.

“Outstanding work, Ashley. Truly. Best in the class.”

She moved on.

Stopping at Apple’s desk, her voice softened into apology.

“You’ll need to push harder. These grades won’t get you into the college you want.”

Apple’s jaw tightened.

She didn’t just hate losing. She hated losing to me.

By the time I got home that day, Apple was curled on the couch, crying into Mom’s shoulder.

Predictable.

The script never changed.

“Everyone saw,” she whimpered. “Mrs. Holmes embarrassed me in front of the whole class.”

Mom looked at me like I’d personally orchestrated it.

“Apple had a terrible time today. Her grade…”

“That’s not my responsibility,” I said flatly. “Her emotions aren’t my job.”

Mom blinked, stunned.

In my last life, I would’ve apologized.

Soothing Apple, shrinking myself, desperately maintaining peace.

Not anymore.

I turned and headed upstairs without another word.

But Apple wasn’t finished.

Around ten that night, I had just stepped out of the bathroom when she cornered me at the top of the stairs, eyes trembling, voice soft and fragile.

"Ashley... can you help me with something?"