Chapter 3
I laughed.
I had traded a brief allergic reaction on my face for a degree of freedom, no longer having to see those three people every day.
In the years that followed…
In 8th grade, my grades plummeted from the top 3 in the class to the bottom 5-10, especially in math and science. I was always last on every test.
I often cried under the covers on weekends at home. I wouldn’t speak during the day, and would pull my hair out while doing homework.
Every time I couldn’t finish my homework, a clump of hair would fall out.
Bella sneered countless times: “Hmph, I thought you were some kind of academic genius. Now you’re showing your true colors!”
“Whether you’re a donkey or a horse, you only find out after running a few laps!”
In 9th grade, my grades stabilized at second to last in the class.
Why second to last? Because the last place was firmly occupied by the king of underachievers in our class, Ethan.
On 100-point tests, I would hover around 60 points.
But him? He didn’t even hover. He was always below 60, occasionally in the 30s. Very eye-catching.
During this time, without the pressure of my academic superiority, Olivia had an easier time at home.
Then came the high school entrance exam.
I scraped by, accidentally performing poorly and scoring just a few points higher than Olivia.
My dad couldn’t bear to send his precious daughter to a regular high school, so he spent $5000 to get Olivia into a key high school.
As for me, of course I went to a regular high school.
In my dad’s words, Olivia had underperformed, while I had overperformed.
In 10th grade, as luck would have it, Ethan and I were classmates again.
On registration day, he whistled at me, his smile incredibly smug: “What a coincidence! Eternal second-to-last.”
I finally understood. He was like me - those terrible grades we got all year were deliberately achieved. With our actual scores, we couldn’t have gotten into high school at all.
I walked over and looked him up and down: “Mr. Method Actor, what score did you actually get?”
He told me a number.
Wow!
My score was already barely scraping by. His was even lower, just barely above the admission cutoff.
“You didn’t do your research, did you? The admission scores for the past 5 years have varied by less than 3 points.”
His smile held a hint of mockery: “We’re in high school now. Want to keep competing with me?”
“For last place?”
I smiled back.
He raised an eyebrow.
High school material was much harder than middle school, especially math. For some people, it was like entering hell mode.
Olivia’s grades plummeted.
No matter how much Bella watched her study, how many tutoring classes she signed her up for, how many practice books she bought her, it was all useless.
I still went home every weekend. First, to maintain my image as a student driven crazy by poor grades. Second, to see how Olivia was doing, and to witness Bella turning into a roaring beast every time she heard about Olivia’s grades.
Olivia would occasionally rebel.
“You’re so amazing, why don’t you do it? You can’t even do middle school math, what right do you have to yell at me? Zoe’s a bad student too, how come you don’t yell at her?”
…
“Are you just projecting what you can’t do onto me?”
…
“I hate studying, and I hate you!”
My dad couldn’t stand it anymore. He pointed at me countless times and told Bella: “Don’t push too hard. Let the kids find their own way. Don’t drive Olivia crazy!”
Bella was both distressed and exasperated. She turned to take out her anger on me, her claws swooping towards my waist.
Did she think I was some pushover who would be afraid of her?
As soon as her hand reached out, I slapped it away. Then I curled up in a ball in the corner, pulling my hair and screaming hysterically.
“Aunt Bella, have mercy, have mercy!”
Bella cared about face to some extent. Afraid the neighbors would hear and spread rumors of an “evil stepmother”, she had no choice but to back off.
After that, my life got a little better.
I would scream.