Chapter 49: Making A Scene

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Stacy

There it was again--the cold chill slithering up my spine.

For the past two weeks, I felt as though someone was watching me, following me, but whenever I looked over my shoulder in paranoia, there was nobody staring in my direction, well besides my usual band of male admirers and female haters, but that was part of my daily routine. It's tough being beautiful, I thought with a nervous smile as I placed my books in my blue locker, slamming it shut using my right hand.

My mind kept getting cluttered with unpleasant memories of what happened a few days ago: When I had filed a complaint at the bank about the vast reduction of my personal savings account, they didn't find anything wrong with the system, and, by the looks some of the eavesdropping employees were shooting me, I could tell they suspected me of pulling a ludicrous scam in order to put more money into my ATM. The nerve of those people.

Either their supposedly posh system was malfunctioning or somebody was trying to mess with my finances. As much as I didn't want to cast blame on anyone, the latter seemed more plausible. But the million-dollar question was: Who would do such a thing?

"Stacy!" I jumped and whirled around to face the person who called my name.

What the---keep calm, Stacy, I told myself. But damn it, she was really testing my limits: In front of me stood Felicia, her likeness to me becoming more eerily noticeable. Her once-dark but now-golden hair streamed down her small waist, her light blue contact lenses matching the natural shade of my eyes, her makeup application mirroring mine--same pink lipstick, same eye shadow, same foundation, and she even wore the same fruit-scented perfume I always spritzed on myself every morning.

I thought it was just a phase but she was even copying how I wore my school uniform: Her white polo fashionably tucked into her blue pencil skirt and her black doll shoes secured with thin, double straps. I swear, if she stooped so low as to even mimic my custom-made pink backpack, I will--

"Check this out, Ace, even our bags match!" She spun around, and to my horror, on her back was a pale pink backpack with an original floral design on the lower part, which was my own personal logo for myself--I always stitched in onto my works. How the fuck did she..

All of a sudden, the fellow college students passing by started to gape and point at us. "It's the attack of the clones," a guy snickered.

"One stuck-up barbie was one too many.Now there's two?" grumbled a girl to her friend.

"They look like a live version of 'spot the difference'." A group of teenage boys laughed.

Gritting my teeth, I clamped my hand over Felicia's wrist and furiously dragged her to an empty classroom,where the morning sunshine slanted through the closed, square windows and the words I PURPLE B.T.S. were scrawled in black marker on the whiteboard.

"Ace, you're hurting me," whined Felicia, playing victim.

I forcefully let go of her wrist, which she rubbed some feeling back into. I glared at the tall, long-haired blonde with so much reproach in my eyes.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demanded her.

Felicia scowled at me. "What's your problem?" she fumed.

"I asked you first," I snapped, planting my hands on my waist.

"Seriously, Ace. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"THIS!" I angrily swept my hand up and down her body. "You really think I wouldn't notice how you've been imitating how I look? Did you ever stop to consider how I'd feel about it?"

Her pale blue eyes were hit by sunlight, making them appear icy-cold. "I thought you'd be flattered by my efforts. We're friends ,aren't we? I just wanted us to match, that's all."

I frowned at her. "Well, you've grown overboard, Felicia. I'm not telling you to revert to your former style because it's your life, your choices. The least you could do is be subtle."

"You think you're so great, don't you?" Felicia gave me a baleful glare. "Just because you're a famous model, you think you have the right to act all high and mighty in Orion? Does it make you feel satisfied that all the guys in university drool over you, that they worship the ground you walk on? Not everyone likes you, Stacy. There are a lot of people who despise you."

I laughed hollowly. "You think I don't know that? I'm used to people judging me, Felicia. And from the way you're speaking right now, I'm beginning to think you're one of them."

By then, a large crowd of students have swarmed outside of the classroom.

"Maybe I am!" hissed Felicia, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know what, Ace, if you're going to be this way, then I don't want to be friends with you anymore."

"I think I'll survive," I said sarcastically with a roll of my eyes. "And since we're on that topic, please quit calling me by my nickname. After all, we're no longer friends, right?"

Felicia's face turned white as chalk. "FINE!" She then stalked out of the classroom, rudely shoving her way through the flock of college students openly gawking at our drama.

My sky blue eyes stared at the audience flocking outside the classroom. They were all whispering to each other, throwing me distasteful grimaces, and I caught bits of their unabashed criticism.

"Once a bitch, always a bitch."

"Poor Felicia."

"I'm so glad I'm not friends with Stacy."

"STACY!"

That last one sounded achingly familiar. Before everyone knew it, a tall male with brown hair and dark blue eyes which matched his necktie and slacks was given a clear path into the classroom. The crowd parted like the red sea, allowing him to easily rush towards me and envelope me in his arms. He moved back and held my shoulders.

"Are you alright?" he asked me.

"Um, yes." I tilted my head to one side, eyeing him quizzically. "What are you doing here?"

Bryce's face twitched in annoyance. "Everyone was talking about a girl fight between two blondes and I figured you were one of them."

"Why do you naturally assume I'm part of chaos?" I raised a brow at him, folding my arms in front of my chest.

He gently flicked my forehead. "Because you're a trouble magnet, Ace. You don't look for it and you don't create it, but it always seems to find you." He smiled. "Why do you think I'm easily attracted to you?"

My cheeks grew warm. Bryce just gave me the answer to the question that had been haunting me for years. Not only that, he also confessed his feelings for me, in front of everyone.

"You're blushing," he stated, grinning widely.

"Shut up and just drive me to the mall. I'm gonna be late for work."

Bryce took my hand. I let him hold it as we headed for the parking lot.

Another unsettling chill crawled up my spine, but I ignored it.




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