My Best Friend's Betrayal

I took a blow to the head to protect my best friend Samantha Lane from the most popular girl in school. It almost got me expelled. Then Samantha turned around and sold me out completely, her voice dripping with sweetness as she sucked up to the girl who'd bullied her. "Cassandra Jones is a raging psycho. If she hadn't stuck her nose where it didn't belong, I would've been in your group ages ago." The next day, Samantha cried on camera during an interview. She twisted the story of me taking a beating for her into some sick power trip I'd been running on her. By the time it spread, the whole school had turned against me, and I was getting torn apart online. I stared at the screen, watching the two of them play best friends like nothing had happened. Then I calmly picked up my phone and called my older brother, the richest man in Hartwell City's elite social circle. "Hey, I'm done playing broke." Chapter 1 "Cassandra Jones! Look what you did to your classmate!" "Are you out of your mind? If you've got problems, go get help. Stop taking it out on people at this school!" The vice principal, John Brown, was practically spitting in my face. I stood there with my hand pressed against my bleeding forehead. I wasn't doing great, honestly. My school jacket was torn to shreds. My back was covered in bruises. And the gash on my forehead, the one a rusty steel pipe had put there, was still seeping blood. Still, I didn't say a word in my defense. I just stood straight and kept my mouth shut. Because thirty minutes ago, Wendy Smith, the most popular girl in school, had cornered my best friend Samantha Lane in a bathroom stall with three of her followers. They'd torn at Samantha's clothes and pulled out their phones to take pictures. I'd heard Samantha's desperate crying and kicked the door open. To buy her time to escape, I'd held all three of them off alone, fighting them with chairs while they came at me with everything they had. I broke one of Wendy's followers' noses. In return, I took a steel pipe straight to the head. Samantha had always been timid. I didn't want to drag her into it and ruin the good-girl reputation she'd worked so hard to keep. So when the vice principal demanded answers, I said nothing. John lost his patience fast. He slammed the disciplinary form down on the desk in front of me. "One week suspension, and a written statement of no less than ten pages on your behavior. Your guardian needs to be in this office by eight tomorrow morning, or we're moving straight to expulsion." I limped out of the office, my whole body aching. The hallway was empty. Outside, rain had started to fall. I wanted to find Samantha. I wanted to tell her it was okay, that I'd handled everything and she didn't need to worry. I checked every senior classroom. I even checked the bleachers out by the track. She was nowhere. Then I made my way to the bike shed behind the school. Through the gray curtain of rain, I found her. Samantha was standing under a delicate lace umbrella, tilting it almost entirely over another girl to keep her dry. Samantha's own shoulder was soaked through, and she didn't seem to notice or care. She was wearing a smile I'd never seen on her before. Soft and eager, almost desperate to please. The girl she was sheltering under that umbrella was Wendy, the same girl who'd been hurting her just thirty minutes ago. "Cassandra is insane. She scared the hell out of me. How does a school like this even let someone like her in?" Wendy was wiping her fingers with a designer wipe, her face twisted in disgust. Samantha stood beside her, carefully cradling Wendy's brand-new bag with both hands, holding it away from the rain like it was made of glass. I was about to step out and ask Samantha if she'd been threatened. Then her voice cut through the rain and reached me clearly, every word landing like a punch. "Don't be mad at her, Wendy. Cassandra's always been like this, all brute force and no brain. Honestly, I've been done with her for a long time. She's been glued to my side forever, acting like my bodyguard, scaring off anyone who got close to me. If it weren't for her, I would've been part of your group ages ago. "I know you were just messing around with me today. She's the one who blew it up and started hitting people. It's disgusting." The blood from my forehead dripped into a puddle at my feet, bleeding red into the water. I stepped out from behind the concrete pillar, unable to help myself. I stared at the girl I'd spent two years protecting with everything I had. "What did you just say?" My voice came out rough and shaking. Samantha flinched. For just a second, guilt flickered across her face. Then she took a large step back, like I was something contagious she didn't want near her. "You heard me, Cassandra. So I'll stop pretending. Please don't follow me around anymore. I don't want to be your friend. Someone like Wendy, with her background and her world, that's the kind of person I want in my life. "Look at yourself. You've got nothing, and you solve everything with your fists. You're not even someone I want to be seen with. Honestly? Being your friend has always been embarrassing." I stood there frozen after she finished. Her words hit slow and deep, like something blunt pressing into a wound over and over. I couldn't make sense of it. How could someone change this completely, this fast, into someone I didn't recognize at all? Maybe she'd never been real with me from the start. Wendy took one look at me and smiled, clearly thrilled. "Aw, how sad. Dumped by your only friend. Haha!" "Wendy, let's go. It's going to pour soon." Samantha tucked herself close to Wendy without sparing me another glance, and the two of them walked away. That's when I finally spoke. "Samantha. Don't come crying to me later." Chapter 2 Samantha's footsteps faltered for just a second. Just one second. Then she walked away without looking back. I made it back to the run-down apartment I rented near school and pulled out my first aid kit on autopilot. I cleaned and disinfected the gash on my forehead, hissing through my teeth as the alcohol hit the wound. The physical pain was nothing compared to what was going on inside my chest. I'd come to this school hiding who I really was. I was a Jones, one of the wealthiest families around. I'd wanted to know what a normal life felt like, so I'd kept that part of myself buried. When I met Samantha, struggling to get by but pushing through school anyway, I made her my best friend. When she couldn't afford the hot meals in the cafeteria, I'd pile extra food onto my tray every day and pretend I couldn't finish it, sliding it over to her. When she couldn't pay for school materials, I'd made up a story about winning a scratch-off and covered it for her. When guys from outside school started giving her trouble, I'd scared them off myself. I'd given her everything I had, and she'd thrown it away without a second thought. Fine. Consider it two years of my life, wasted. We were done, and that was that. I cried myself to sleep that night. I woke up the next morning running a fever. I was dragging myself out of bed to find some medicine when my phone started going off like crazy on the nightstand. I picked it up. A street interview video had gone viral. The title was written in bold red letters: [Stop Campus Violence! Exposing the Disturbing Control Issues of a Female Bully at Westwood High!] In the video, Samantha's eyes were red and swollen, her face the picture of someone who'd been through something awful. Wendy sat beside her, rubbing her back and handing her tissues. The interviewer held out a microphone. "We've heard there's a girl at your school with serious anger issues who attacks other students without provocation. Is that true?" "It is." Samantha's voice broke. "Honestly, I used to feel completely trapped. Like I was living in a nightmare. The girl's name is Cassandra Jones, and she used to be my roommate. She doesn't just have anger problems. She's controlling in a really scary way. "She wouldn't let me have any friends. Any time someone tried to get close to me, she'd lose it and attack them. She put people in the hospital. She used protecting me as an excuse. What she really wanted was to own me. She made me do her laundry and get her food every single day. "I was scared all the time. I couldn't even sleep in peace. And yesterday, she put Wendy's friend in the hospital for no reason at all..." Samantha broke down at that point, sobbing so hard she looked like she might pass out. Wendy stepped in smoothly, taking the microphone and turning to the camera with a calm, warm smile. "Don't be afraid to speak up. Standing against bullying is everyone's responsibility. I'm not scared of what Cassandra might do to me. I just want Samantha to be free. I want her to actually enjoy being in school again." The video ended on a freeze frame of Samantha throwing her arms around Wendy, tears streaming down her face. My knuckles went white around my phone. She'd flipped every single thing upside down. Me doing her laundry became her being forced to wait on me. Me chasing off the girls who bullied her became me isolating her. And me taking a steel pipe to the head for her, that had somehow become proof that I was the violent one. I opened the comments. [Why is this psycho still walking around free? Does Westwood High even have a principal?] [Poor Samantha. Getting targeted by a freak like that must've messed her up for life. Disgusting.] [Wendy is literally an angel. That orphan Cassandra should just drop dead. Hope she gets hit by a car the second she steps outside.] [I found Cassandra's account. Everyone come help me bury this psycho.] Someone had taken my photo, edited it to look like a memorial picture, and pinned it to the top of the school's online forum. Others kept reposting it to keep it there. I stared at Samantha's face on the screen, soft and sad and completely convincing. Then I laughed. I don't know why, but I laughed. And then tears started falling, mixing with the blood still seeping from the cut on my forehead, and I tasted both on my lips. 'Samantha, have you really thrown away even the most basic human decency just to suck up to Wendy? Just for the impossible dream of climbing the social ladder?' Chapter 3 After a week's suspension, I went back to school. I sensed something was wrong the second I reached my classroom door. I pushed it open and heard a loud crash above me. A bucket of filthy water came pouring down from the door frame. If I hadn't reacted quickly and stepped back at the last second, I would've been drenched from head to toe. Even so, the dirty water splattered all over my pants and shoes. There was a beat of silence, then the whole classroom erupted. "Ha! The mad dog's back in her cage! Everyone, cover your noses before the crazy spreads!" "Cassandra, you actually showed your face? If I were you, I would've jumped off a building by now!" I lifted my head and looked past the laughing faces to the center of the room. Wendy was sitting at her desk, admiring her fresh manicure without even glancing up. Samantha was sitting in my old seat. She was laughing louder than anyone. When our eyes met, there wasn't a trace of guilt on her face. She pointed a finger straight at me instead. "What are you staring at, Cassandra? You trying to hit someone again?" Her voice was sharp and loud on purpose. "I've got Wendy and the whole class on my side now. I'm not scared of you anymore. Stop playing the victim." I didn't bother responding. I walked to the back of the room, toward the trash corner. My desk was there, shoved against the wall by the garbage cans. Someone had painted the words "drop dead," "freak," and "get out of this school" across the surface in red. Every book from inside had been torn apart and scattered across the floor. On top of the pile sat a study guide, covered in dirty boot prints. I'd spent three nights in a row last week copying out past exam questions by hand, page by page. I'd made it for Samantha. She'd cried, telling me she couldn't afford the expensive study guides and was terrified she wouldn't get into a good college. I bent down and picked it up. Samantha's expression shifted slightly when she saw it. She crossed the room in a few quick steps, snatched the study guide out of my hands, and tore it in half. Then she threw it at my face. "Who do you think you are, bringing this trash in here? Wendy already got me copies of her private tutor's notes. We're talking questions written by a professor, one from the prestigious Hartwell University. Something a failing student like you scratched together belongs in the garbage." The torn edge of the paper caught my cheek and left a thin cut. I looked at Samantha's smug expression. She was so emboldened by having someone powerful backing her. Any lingering attachment I still had toward our friendship vanished. "Samantha." My voice came out calm, and somehow the laughter around us faded. "This is the last time you'll ever get to talk to me like that. Make it count." I turned and walked out before she could get another word in, leaving her shouting at my back. I needed to see the principal, Samuel Miller. I had everything. Texts from Samantha, dozens of them, begging me for help over the past two years. A recording of Wendy and her crew shaking down other students and getting physical. If I could put the truth in front of the right person, the school would have to do something. Samuel's office door was slightly open. I was about to knock when I heard his voice through the gap, warm and full of laughter. "Mr. Smith, you're too generous! The library wing your family donated will be finished by next week. Wendy is an outstanding student in every way. That exclusive job offer at Jones Group should absolutely go to her!" After he hung up the call, he looked up and saw me, and his whole face went flat. "What do you want? Did you finish that written statement? If not, get out of my office and go finish it." I didn't answer. I walked to his desk and dropped a thick stack of printed pages and a voice recorder on the surface. "The online interview was fabricated. These are two years of text messages from Samantha asking me for help. They prove I was protecting her, not threatening her. The recorder has Wendy on tape, collecting money by force in the girls' bathroom and assaulting other students. "I'm asking the school to set the record straight and take disciplinary action against both Wendy and Samantha." Chapter 4 Samuel froze for a second, his eyes darting nervously to the stack of evidence on his desk. He didn't look at a single page. He shoved the whole pile into his drawer and slammed it shut. "Enough of this." He slapped his hand on the desk hard enough to slosh water out of his teacup. "Cassandra, are you out of your mind? You think you can walk in here with forged chat logs and smear a good student?" "Forged?" I almost laughed. "You can pull the records directly from the phone carrier." "Pull what records? You want me to investigate one of this school's top students over a troublemaker like you? Do you have any idea how much Wendy's father has donated to this school? Do you know Jones Group's executives are coming for the Founders' Day next week? And your little reputation as the school's violent problem student has already done enough damage to our image. "I'm making it official. You're expelled. Get your things and get off this campus. I won't have you dragging this school's reputation down any further!" The office door swung open before I could respond. Wendy and Samantha walked in. They'd clearly been standing in the hall the whole time. Samantha went straight into it, her eyes already red. "Mr. Miller, she threatened me again in the classroom just now. Those chat logs, she used to hold a knife to me to make me send those messages. It was all about control. Please, you have to do something." I stared at her. "Do you have nightmares, Samantha? When you lie like this, do you actually sleep at night?" She stepped behind Wendy, her eyes sliding away from mine, but her voice stayed loud. "The only nightmares I have are because of you." "Alright, that's enough." Samuel waved his hand like he was swatting a fly. "Cassandra, get out of this school right now. And if you say one word about any of this outside these walls, I'll have our legal team sue you for defamation." There was no one in this building who was going to help me. "Fine. I'm gone." I took a breath, reached up, and pulled my school ID off my jacket. I dropped it into the trash can on my way out. "Someday you're going to regret this. And when that day comes, even if you beg, I won't feel a thing." I walked out the front gates into the rain. It was coming down harder now. I just kept moving, soaked through, not really thinking about where I was going. Then a horn blared behind me. Wendy's car rolled up slowly. The window came down. Wendy and Samantha looked down at me from the warm, dry back seat. "Cassandra!" Samantha threw something out the window. It was a bracelet. It hit the wet pavement near my feet. "Giving that back. Just a friendly reminder—when you're broke, don't pretend you've got any pride left. You think you're noble? You can't even afford to eat. You're nothing. Wendy's about to lock in that Jones Group job offer, and I'm going right along with her. You know what you've got? Nothing. You're going to stand in this rain like a stray dog with nowhere to go." Wendy let out a short, cold laugh. The window slid back up. The car pulled away and hit a puddle, spraying mud across my legs. I stood there in the empty street and watched the taillights disappear. That was enough. I was done pretending to be an ordinary person. I pulled a specially modified satellite phone from my pocket and dialed a number I hadn't called in two years. It picked up on the first ring. "Cassandra?" A low, familiar voice came through the line. I stood in the rain, completely calm. "Hey. I'm done playing broke."