She Bet Against Me, I Bet On Myself Chapter 01
The day before the class reunion, Cora Watts, the school belle, who
had bullied me for three whole years, sent a video in the group chat.
In the video, a two–hundred–pound high school version of me was
trapped in the restroom, with a paper sign taped to the back of my uniform: [No Food For Pigs.]
The group chat instantly exploded.
[Holy shit, Glenda Santos’s coming too?]
[Can the hotel chairs even handle her?]
[It’s been so many years, she probably can’t even fit through the door by now!]
Cora tagged me directly: [Glenda, everyone misses you so much! You definitely have to come.]
Soon enough, someone opened a betting pool on whether I’d actually show up.
Cora put down ten thousand dollars, betting I’d chicken out.
Even Neil Webster, the former school heartthrob, the guy I had a
crush on for three years, joined in on the bet.
He said: [If she actually comes, I’ll hug her in front of everyone.
Consider it my apology for back then.]
The chat went wild with roars of laughter.
I watched the clip that had haunted my nightmares for years and clenched my fists.
No one knew I’d dropped from two hundred pounds to one hundred.
And little did they know, I had just signed with the elite
entertainment agency Cora had been desperately trying to join for years.
I quietly placed a fifty–thousand–dollar bet. Betting that I would arrive right on time.
Then, amid all the mocking. I sent a message: [A bet’s a bet.]
After my text went through, the group chat fell completely dead
silent for a long while.
The chat exploded the next second.
[Wait, is she actually…]
[Did Glenda seriously drop fifty grand on this?]
[Where’d she even get that kind of money? Borrowed?]
[Who gets the money in the end? Let’s be clear–no backing out!]
Cora was the first to step up.
[Glenda, don’t be so impulsive!]
[Everyone’s just joking around. If money’s tight, you should really
pull that fifty grand back while you still can.]
Same as always.
Every word came with a blade, but she wrapped it in this sweet, concerned package–like she was looking out for me.
That was exactly how she played it all through high school.
She used to have people dump my lunch into the trash, only to
cover her mouth and coo, “Oh, I just don’t want you overeating. I’m helping you lose weight!”
She threw my uniform into the boys‘ restroom, forcing me to sit through classes soaked in filthy water.
She trapped me in the girls‘ restroom, forcing me onto a weight
scale to read the numbers out loud for everyone to hear.
And finally, she taped that paper sign reading “No Food For Pigs” to
my back, making the whole class line up to take pictures.
Now, re–uploading that video was just her way of declaring to
everyone that no matter how many years had passed, I was still the same joke for her to laugh at.
I opened the betting rules.
Cora had placed ten thousand betting I wouldn’t show, while others
chipped in another thirty–some thousand combined.
I was the only one who put down fifty thousand dollars, betting on my own arrival.
I typed back slowly: [Don’t worry, I can afford to lose.]
Cora instantly replied with a giggling emoji: [Good. I was worried you’d regret it later.]
Someone chimed in: [Cora, you’re overthinking it. Maybe she’s living the high life these days!]
[High life? Skipping two meals a day for a few years can easily save up fifty grand, hahaha!]
The screen flooded with laughing emojis.
Just as I was about to exit the app, a private message popped up.
It was Neil.
Back in high school, I was head over heels for him for three whole years.
When he played basketball, I bought him drinks in secret.
When his stomach hurt, I brought him soup every single morning.
Later on, he pinned the love letter I wrote him onto the back wall of the classroom, smirking as he asked the whole room. “You guys think I’d survive if she sat on me?”
The entire class laughed so hard the desks rattled.
Now, his message read: [Are you really coming? We were young and
clueless back then. Don’t take it to heart.]
Staring at the words “young and clueless,” I let out a bitter laugh.
So that was it–bullies grew up, and all the cruelty they’d inflicted
just got brushed off as youthful indiscretion.
[Also, me offering to hug you in the chat was just to ease the tension.]
[Don’t get the wrong idea. I have a girlfriend now.]
I finally replied with two words: [Don’t worry.]
Afraid I still held feelings for him, he immediately added: [My
girlfriend’s coming to the reunion too. Keep your distance so she doesn’t feel uncomfortable.]
I ignored him.
The moment I set my phone down, the doorbell rang.
My agent, Shelia Willis, walked in dragging two massive wardrobe
trunks. She frowned the second she saw me.
“Isn’t your class reunion tomorrow?”
“That’s your game face? Anyone would think you’re just walking
down to grab a package.”
She popped the trunks open, revealing dozens of high–end gowns that hadn’t even been publicly revealed yet.
I glanced over them. “Too flashy.”
Shelia almost laughed in exasperation.
“Your official contract announcement goes live at eight tomorrow
night, and the agency’s celebration banquet is on the penthouse
floor of the Grandeur Hotel.”
“You planning on showing up in a hoodie?”
She pulled out a silver–white long gown, holding it up against me
before shaking her head. “No, too sweet.”
Then, she picked out a black velvet floor–length dress.
The dress had no complex embellishments, but its waistline was cut exquisitely sharp.
“This is it.”
“Tomorrow, everyone who ever looked down on you won’t know what hit them.”
I looked toward the floor–length mirror.
The woman in the glass was slender, with cool, striking features.
From two hundred pounds down to one hundred.
It had taken me five full years.
Nobody knew how I survived those agonizing days when I was too
ashamed of the taunts to even look into a mirror.
And nobody knew that Starlight Entertainment–the agency Cora
had failed to get into after three separate auditions–had already
placed a top–tier talent deal right in front of me.
Shelia stuffed my itinerary into my hand.
“Contract signing in the morning. Fitting in the afternoon.
Grandeur Hotel at seven.”
“8:00 PM sharply, official announcement across all platforms.”
I looked down at the schedule.
The class reunion was on the third floor.
The agency banquet was on the penthouse floor.
One was desperately trying to drag me back into the dark past.
While the other was waiting to launch me straight into a brand–new future.