I was voted "Ugliest Girl in Class." Unanimously. My deskmate sneered, "She's just a clown." But they didn't know I had bound a "Roast Me" System. Every time someone insulted me, I got $5,000. So far, I've been roasted for 964 days and saved up $14.8 million. Every day, I applied foundation three shades too dark, wore hideous glasses, and drew fake freckles all over my face. Until the City Dance Company came for auditions, demanding every girl remove her makeup and perform bare-faced. The class beauty smirked, "Ugly people should know their place. Maybe you should just sit this one out!" Only I knew— My breathtaking beauty could no longer be hidden. 1 It was the eve of the SATs. The boys in my class made a "Girl Appearance Rating Chart." Amidst their winks and nudges, I deservedly scored a 2. A 2 basically meant "Godzilla in a skirt." My deskmate snatched the chart away, mocking me: "With those buck teeth and that dark skin, you're ugly inside and out. If I hadn't lost a bet, who would want to sit next to you!" Last month, I was dragged into a cheating scandal. My test paper was identical to the class beauty, Bella's—from punctuation to numerical answers. Even though I sat in front of her. Even though my grades were better than hers. But Bella wrinkled her delicate nose, her big doe eyes filled with tears. She looked exactly like that viral transformation influencer, "Winter." The boys, whose average math score was probably 20, screamed that I copied her. However, Bella couldn't tell the difference between $\beta$ and B. In the end, the math teacher cleared my name based on that alone. But rumors about me started multiplying. Before, I was invisible. Now, I was "Ugly Girl," "Godzilla," "Disgusting Rat"... Sometimes, I'd get locked in a bathroom stall and drenched with dirty water. Sometimes, just walking past the AP Science class would trigger rumors that I was stalking some random guy, desperate for his attention. Seventeen, eighteen-year-olds. Especially in a liberal arts class. Their ability to fabricate rumors was elite. They were one step away from saying I was pregnant with someone's alien baby. The attacks were so vicious even Twitter would've banned them. An ordinary person might have collapsed... But I was calm. Today, my deskmate handed me another "Ugly Girl Ranking." "Congrats, Jane. First place again." A pyramid chart of ugliness. A candid photo of me was printed at the top, crossed out with a big red X. He sarcastically told the girl in front of us, "She's just a clown. Not surprising she's number one." Bella giggled, trembling like a flower in the breeze. I stared at the photo, lost in thought. ________________________________________ 2 I have a secret. At sixteen, I bound a special system. The "Roast Me" System. Because I fainted on the first day of school, I missed orientation. By the time I returned, the title "Ugly Girl" had spread through the entire grade. Bella and her "Makeup Squad" spread rumors across the whole school. "Jane? I went to middle school with her. I heard she never takes off her hat or mask... Hee hee, probably too ugly to show her face." Her simps laughed along. "Right? My Bella is the campus goddess. That ugly freak was just lucky to be in the same school. Can't believe she followed you to high school, shameless!" Ten years ago, the rumors would've been about me liking the bad boy or the jock. But now, the vibe had shifted. They decided spreading rumors about me liking Bella fit the current aesthetic better. After all, lesbians were at the bottom of the social food chain in our class. Looked down upon. But this was a "blessing in disguise." On the first day of school, I stared blankly as my system account balance jumped by $20,000. For someone who couldn't afford lunch, this was a fortune. I counted. I'd been insulted four times. Just four sentences, and I made $20,000! So naturally... I accepted it with open arms. Being scolded doesn't make me lose a pound of flesh. I'm mentally tough; I don't care about their petty bullying. Besides, the SATs were three months away. I was consistently top three in the class. Afterward, they'd go work in factories or fast food, and they wouldn't matter to me. So. High schoolers wake up at 6 AM. I woke up at 4 AM. Thirty minutes of vocab, one hour of practice tests. Then thirty minutes for special effects makeup. "Ugly Girl FX Makeup." Because of the stereotype Bella created, no one ever looked at me closely. I fooled them for 964 days. The balance in my bank account was terrifyingly high. I swam in an ocean of money every day, forgetting the insults. Let them scold me. Does it hurt? This wasn't toxic trolls spewing hate; it was a golden toad spitting coins! Every day. Every moment. As long as I breathed, I was making money. ________________________________________ 3 First mock exam. My name hung high on the honor roll. The only person above me was the school heartthrob, Liam. He was the son of a school board member, a violin prodigy who could've gotten into Juilliard easily. But Liam refused to live in his parents' shadow. He wanted to get into college on his own merit. And he was succeeding. For a long time, Liam was number one. Until I stopped worrying about money and quit my part-time jobs. I used that time to study. Liam and I traded first place back and forth. I glanced at the cutoff scores and walked away. As long as I hit the score for my dream school, being first didn't matter. But Liam found me during break. "Jane, Liam is looking for you," Bella said, eyes burning with jealousy. I walked out under her gaze, hearing the system chime: [+$5,000]. Insulting me in her head again~ In the hallway, Liam was waiting. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing toned forearms. Gold-rimmed glasses perched on his high nose. He looked like a refined villain. Seeing me, he frowned. "Jane, why didn't you do the last question?" The last big question? I recalled. I had seen that type of question several times before, so I was too lazy to solve it again. I have a quirk: if I see a difficult problem three times, I won't do it again. Not wanting to lie, I told the truth. "Too lazy." Unexpectedly, he frowned deeper and grabbed my wrist. "I can understand your poor morals, but how can you lie about an exam?" "The last question..." He lifted his head arrogantly, light glinting off his glasses. "I calculated for twenty minutes to solve it. I should be the only one in the school who got it." "You couldn't do it. No need to lie." "Yeah, yeah," my deskmate chimed in. "Jane just wants to save face." Fine. I was speechless. I suddenly understood the loneliness of genius. Just as I opened my mouth to defend myself, Bella rushed in. "The City Dance Company is here for auditions!" ________________________________________ 4 Bella's delicate face was flushed with excitement. "This is special admission! If you get in, you get a tenure-track job and perform with Winter!" Winter. The city's most famous piano artist. Performed in Vienna at 7, world-renowned by 14, exploded in popularity at 18 on a music show. At 20, he returned as a celebrated artist. Because he had a face like a CGI model, he was plagued by stalker fans. Annoyed, he moved back to our hometown for peace. This unconventional choice shocked everyone. But it gave him the quiet he wanted. Bella clutched the flyer tightly, face red. "That's Winter... How many girls dream of playing with him? Even if I'm just a background dancer, I'd be willing!" A girl nearby reached out. "Bella, let me see the flyer!" My deskmate slapped her hand away. "Stop dreaming, toad. Can't you see Bella has it? Only she has a chance. You ugly girls wanting to be on stage with Winter? Hilarious." Bella lifted her chin proudly, as if victory was hers. "If you want signed photos later, just ask. I have that much pull." My deskmate bowed and scraped. "Yes, Sister Bella. Don't forget us when you're famous." Suddenly, Bella seemed to notice me. "Jane, you're here too." She smiled, braids framing her face, looking gentle and kind. "Do you want to go? The flyer says every girl in school has to audition. If you want to go, you can sign up with me." Before I could speak, my deskmate jumped in. "Huh? Her?" He sneered. "The Dance Company is looking for dancers, not gargoyles to ward off evil spirits. Jane shouldn't go and embarrass us!" Bella smiled sweetly. "True, people should know their limits. Maybe Jane shouldn't go on stage. What if Winter is there? We don't want to scare him." I treated their words like farts. I opened another practice test, ignoring them. But Liam suddenly asked me. "Jane, do you want to go?" "No." I answered without looking up. My pen scratched across the paper. "Why?" "I have problems to solve."
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