It was 3 a.m. when the class president, Megan, suddenly dropped a message in the group chat: graduation photos, the day after tomorrow, in the morning. A second message followed with a payment link: $50 per person. I replied, telling her I had my thesis defense that day and asked if we could possibly reschedule. Her response was blunt. “Is your time the only time that matters? If you can’t make it, get lost.” Wanting to fit in, just this once, I paid the fee and went through hell to reschedule my defense. But when the day of the photoshoot arrived, a classmate told me: “Oh, the graduation photos? We already took them yesterday.” … I had spent an hour on my makeup, wanting to look my best. But when I arrived at the campus quad, breathless under the brutal sun, there was no one there. I pulled out my phone and checked the notification again. [The day after tomorrow at 10 a.m., meet on the quad for graduation photos.] I scrolled down. There were no other messages about a change in plans. I was in the right place at the right time. So where was everyone? Refusing to believe it, I thought maybe they’d moved to the gym to escape the heat. Not wanting to be late, I hurried over. But the gym was empty except for a few underclassmen playing basketball. The sun was a weight on my shoulders. Sweat trickled down my back, soaking the crisp white shirt I’d picked out specially for the photos. My carefully applied makeup was now a sticky, streaky mess on my face. My patience snapped. I called my roommate, Lily. “Hello, Sarah?” Lily’s voice was hesitant, laced with guilt. “Lily, where are you guys? Did the time for the photos change? Why is the quad empty?” I tried to keep my voice from trembling. Silence on the other end for a few seconds. “Um… Sarah, actually… we took them yesterday.” “Yesterday?” My voice shot up, drawing stares from a few students nearby. “But Megan’s message clearly said today…” “Megan sent another notification in the private chat to change the time. She must have… forgotten to add you to that one.” Lily’s voice grew smaller and smaller. My hand holding the phone began to shake. It was happening again. Ever since my sophomore year, when I’d refused to pay Megan’s unreasonable fee for a class event, I had been the target of her little clique. But this was too much. Graduation photos were a once-in-a-lifetime thing. “What about my fifty dollars?” I asked, biting my lip. “You’ll… you’ll have to ask Megan about that.” Lily quickly muttered something about being busy and hung up. I stood there, frozen, feeling all the blood rush to my head. Fifty dollars wasn’t a small amount for me. It was three days’ pay from my part-time job. But what hurt more was the knowledge that I would never be in our graduation yearbook. The entire class would remember me as Sarah, the weirdo who didn’t even show up for her own graduation photo. Taking a deep breath, I opened my chat with Megan. The last message was still her sharp “If you can’t make it, get lost.” My fingers trembled with rage as I typed. “Megan, why wasn’t I notified that the time for the photos had changed? I paid the fee. Why was I left out?” The “typing…” bubble appeared, then stopped. Appeared, then stopped again. Five full minutes passed before she replied: “Maybe you should check the group chat. It’s not my fault you’re antisocial.” I stared at the message, my eyes burning. I decided to take this to my student advisor. His office door was slightly ajar. As I raised my hand to knock, I heard Megan’s sweet, syrupy voice from inside. “Mr. Davis, over the past four years, I’ve organized more than twenty class activities and even won the Outstanding Student Leader award…” I pushed the door open. Megan was sitting across from my advisor, a pile of documents spread across his desk. They both looked up. The smile on Megan’s face froze. “Sarah?” Mr. Davis looked surprised. “Is something wrong?” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Mr. Davis, I’m here to report an issue of targeted bullying by the class president, Megan.” I struggled to keep my voice steady. “She collected the fee for graduation photos but deliberately failed to inform me of the correct time, resulting in my absence from the class picture.” Megan shot to her feet. “That’s a lie! It was your own fault for not reading the group chat messages!” “Which group chat?” I looked her straight in the eye. “The private one that I’m not a part of?” Megan’s expression faltered. She turned to the advisor. “Mr. Davis, our class has three group chats. Sarah left two of them on her own…” “I never left any group chat,” I cut her off. “You kicked me out. During the sophomore year class dinner, you demanded everyone pay eighty dollars. When I questioned the cost, you kicked me out of the group.” Megan sneered, but her face crumpled into a mask of grievance when she turned back to the advisor. “You see, Mr. Davis? This is what she does. She always finds fault with everything I do for the class.” “That dinner was at a high-end restaurant. Eighty dollars wasn’t even enough. I had to supplement it with class funds…” “You’re lying!” My voice trembled with anger. “The actual cost per person was less than fifty dollars, and you never showed us the bill!” Mr. Davis frowned. “Alright, that’s enough. Graduation is just around the corner. Let’s not argue over such trivial matters.” “You’re both at fault. Megan, you should have made sure every student was notified about the photos…” “I did notify everyone!” Megan suddenly pulled out her phone. “See? I sent a notification in the main year-group chat and tagged everyone. Is it my fault if she muted the chat?” I leaned in to look. She had, in fact, posted a brief, one-line message in the massive year-group chat. But that chat was constantly spammed with ads and irrelevant announcements; I’d muted it ages ago. “And,” Megan added triumphantly, “I even had her roommate go to her dorm room to get her before the photos yesterday. She wasn’t there.” My head snapped toward her. “Who came to get me? I was in my room all day yesterday preparing for my thesis defense!” “Lily said she knocked for ages and no one answered,” Megan shrugged. “Maybe you had your headphones on.” I was shaking with fury. Lily had never come to my door. Megan seized the opportunity. “Mr. Davis, as you know, Sarah never participates in class activities. We always have to chase her down for everything.” “For the graduation photos, she was the only one in the entire class who asked to change the time…” “That’s because I had my defense!” I was so angry my voice was shaking. “And didn’t I reschedule it to accommodate everyone else in the end?” “Alright, alright.” Mr. Davis cut us off, his frown deepening. “The photos have been taken. There’s no use arguing about it now.” He looked at me. “Sarah, you need to learn to be a team player. It’s a shame to go through four years of college without a single graduation photo.” I stared at him in disbelief. “Mr. Davis, this isn’t my fault…” “Megan has been a very responsible class president,” he said, patting her shoulder. “How about this? I’ll have the photographer Photoshop you into the picture. We’ll cover the cost with class funds.” “What about my fifty dollars?” I pressed. Megan immediately cut in. “That’s already been paid to the photographer. It’s non-refundable.” Mr. Davis nodded. “That’s right. The photographer did his job.” I stood there, a chill spreading through my body. This was the university I had spent four years at. These were the teacher and classmates I had known for four years. “Don’t bother with the Photoshop,” I said softly. “I’m not paying for a fake memory.” As I turned to leave, I heard Megan say behind me, “You see, Mr. Davis? That’s her attitude. She just doesn’t want to fit in…” When I got back to my dorm, Lily was sitting on the edge of my bed, holding a beautifully wrapped gift box. “Sarah…” She stood up awkwardly. “I’m so sorry. I was going to come find you, but something came up…” I silently walked around her and started clearing things off my desk. “This is for you,” she said, pushing the box toward me. “Everyone in our dorm got one…” I stopped what I was doing and looked at the box with its pink silk ribbon. “Did you really come to find me yesterday?” I asked quietly. Lily’s fingers twisted together. “I… I did go, but you weren’t there…” “I was in the dorm all day yesterday,” I said, looking directly into her eyes. “From eight in the morning until ten at night. I even ordered in for lunch.” Her face flushed a deep red. “Maybe… maybe I got the time wrong…” “Lily,” I cut her off. “For four years, how many times have I saved you a seat in the library? How many times have I helped you with your homework?” Her head sank lower. “Last semester, when you had that high fever, who took you to the hospital in the middle of the night?” My voice began to tremble. “Who stayed with you in the emergency room until dawn?” A single tear hit the floor. “I’m sorry…” she whispered, starting to sob. “It was Megan… she said not to bother telling you… she said you never fit in anyway…” I took a deep breath and pushed the gift box back toward her. “No, thank you.” Just as I was about to ask her to leave, my phone vibrated. A new notification from Megan in the class group chat: [For those who paid, you can come to the studio this afternoon for individual and group portraits.] The chat exploded with cheers and thank-you emojis. Lily quickly grabbed my hand. “I’ll go with you this afternoon…” I coldly pulled my hand away. “I’ll go by myself.” After all, I had paid my fifty dollars. At three o’clock that afternoon, I went to the campus photo studio alone. From a distance, I could see my classmates gathered in small groups, laughing as they looked through their newly received yearbooks. But the moment I pushed the door open, the noisy room fell silent for a beat. More than twenty pairs of eyes shot toward me, then quickly looked away. A few stifled giggles floated in the air. I had no idea what was going on. I walked straight to Laura, the class treasurer, who was handing out the yearbooks. She was one of Megan’s best friends and had often joined in on the bullying. Today, Laura wore a full face of makeup and her graduation gown, surrounded by a group of admiring girls. Seeing me approach, a flicker of panic crossed her face, quickly replaced by her usual condescending smirk. “Well, well, look who finally decided to show up,” Laura said, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “I thought you didn’t want one.” I held out my hand calmly. “My yearbook, please.” Laura let out an exaggerated sigh and handed me a copy from the table. “Here you go. We saved one just for you.” I opened it. The first page was the class photo. My picture had been Photoshopped into the back-row corner—a grainy, pixelated image clearly lifted from my student ID card. It was blown up to the point of distortion, my face a ghostly white that contrasted sharply with everyone else’s natural smiles. To make it worse, they had Photoshopped a pair of ridiculous bunny ears on top of my head. A wave of suppressed laughter rippled through the room. I looked up and saw several classmates covering their mouths, while others were holding up their phones, taking pictures of me. “So, what do you think? Satisfied?” Laura asked, raising an eyebrow in triumph. “I personally asked the photographer to give it some special attention.” My fingers gripped the edge of the yearbook so tightly my knuckles turned white. “This is what my fifty dollars paid for?” I heard my own voice, eerily calm. Laura just shrugged. “You think Photoshop is free? Do you have any idea how much overtime the photographer had to work?” “Give me my money back.” I slammed the yearbook down on the table. “Or I’m going to the Dean’s Office right now to report you and Megan for embezzling class funds.” Laura’s face paled. “What are you talking about? Every cent of the class funds is accounted for!” I didn’t want to argue with her anymore. I went to find Megan. She was chatting animatedly with the photographer. The moment she saw me, she cut me off, her expression instantly hostile. She lifted her chin. “We’re doing individual portraits here. Unauthorized personnel are not welcome.” “I paid,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. “Fifty dollars. Same as everyone else.” Megan let out a snort, crossing her arms. “Sarah, get it through your head. The fifty dollars only covers the group photo. Individual portraits are extra. Got it?” She raised her voice deliberately, drawing the attention of the other students. “We were being generous by Photoshopping you in at all. What more do you want?” I clenched my fists. “Then why does everyone else get an individual portrait?” “Because they paid the extra fee,” Megan said, rolling her eyes. “If you’re broke, don’t come here and embarrass yourself. Now get out.” A few students snickered. I felt the blood rush to my head. Megan continued her taunts, her voice low enough for only me to hear. “Some people are just so antisocial. Four years of college and not a single decent photo to show for it. How pathetic.” “Give me my fifty dollars back!” I forced the words out, my voice trembling with suppressed fury. “Since you already took the group photo and made me look like a joke, just give me a refund!” Megan’s eyes went wide in mock surprise. “Sarah, have you no shame? You’re in the graduation photo, aren’t you? Do you think Photoshop is free? Do you think the photographer works for free?” “That was my student ID picture! And you deliberately made a mockery of it!” I pointed to the ridiculous bunny ears in the yearbook. “What is this supposed to be?” “It was just a joke. Why are you so serious?” Megan pouted. “You’re the only one in the whole class who can’t take a joke.” The snickering around me grew louder. I felt like a circus animal on display. “Refund my money!” I raised my voice. “Or I’m reporting you for embezzling class funds!” “Go ahead, report me!” Megan laughed as if it were the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “Let’s see who’s going to listen to you!” Our argument grew louder, finally attracting the attention of the department head, Mr. Evans, and the Dean, who were in the adjacent studio. Mr. Evans strode over, his brow furrowed. “What’s going on here? I could hear you shouting from down the hall.” Megan’s face changed instantly, her eyes welling up with tears. “Mr. Evans, Sarah is demanding a refund for the graduation photos… but they’ve already been taken, and the money has been paid to the photographer…” She added with a sniffle, “We were nice enough to Photoshop her in, and she’s not even grateful…” Mr. Evans turned to me, his expression disapproving. “Sarah, that’s not right. The graduation photo is a group activity. You can’t ask for a refund for personal reasons.” I took a deep breath. “Mr. Evans, they took my money but didn’t tell me the right time for the photo. The class photo uses my ID picture, and they intentionally made it look ridiculous to humiliate me.” “Furthermore, I know for a fact that the class president and treasurer have been embezzling class funds.”
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