THE BAIT WAS NEVER HIM

The bully who'd ruined high school for me was posting happy birthday pictures with her crush.

In the photos, she was surrounded by people, with wagyu, cake, and designer bags beside her.

The caption was just two sentences. [Spending my birthday this year with the guy I'm head over heels for.] [Life really is this easy.] I zoomed in and realized that the guy she liked happened to be an upperclassman I'd met when I first started college.

I sent him a message right away. [Hey, how did the Tang dynasty survive for more than a hundred years after the An Lushan Rebellion?] A minute later, he sent me a sixtysecond voice message. [It's hard to explain over the phone.

Let me buy you dinner tomorrow and walk you through it.] Chapter 1 I arrived at Westridge University with my luggage. Only then did my high school nightmare finally end.

The years of bullying, the buckets of filthy water dumped over my head, the blood and tears of those two years of high school—I had finally left them all behind.

Freshman year was quiet and peaceful. I thought I'd never see my high school bully again.

Six months after I enrolled, I was up late one night, scrolling through Facebook out of boredom. Then the algorithm put a face I despised right in front of me.

In the picture, Theresa Hill was holding a white swan cake and leaning against a guy, her eyes soft with affection.

She was facing the camera, but anyone could see the way her body unconsciously edged closer to his arm. That was an instinctive attraction. Body language didn't lie.

Someone teased her in the comments. [Crush? Looks more like a boyfriend to me.] Theresa replied cheerfully. [Not yet! I haven't won him over.] A reply read: [Please.

All you have to do is crook a finger and he'll come running.] Theresa didn't reply again. She gave that comment an enthusiastic like instead.

She looked like any other girl falling in love. There was no trace of the viciousness she'd shown when she bullied me. I clicked through to her profile.

I wanted to find even the slightest sign of that thing people called karma. Reality disappointed me. Her posts were a record of everything going her way.

Manicures, handbags, vacations—she was showing something off every few days. Even the iPhone, iPad, and MacBook she'd bought for college were the latest models.

Bullies never paid for what they did. Only their victims stayed trapped in the storm, still haunted by nightmares. The dim light of my phone fell across my face.

I pressed my lips tightly together and scrolled back through her posts, a little at a time, until I reached the first day she'd bullied me, three years earlier.

She'd posted about it. [A girl in my class stole my money. Whatever.

She's so poor, I decided to forgive her.] There were plenty of replies. [Beautiful inside and out.] [Don't be so generous to a thief.

Be careful, or she'll steal from you again.] [Poverty makes people conniving.

Girl, stay away from people like that.] She'd built herself an image as a beautiful, kindhearted rich girl and gained a crowd of devoted followers. Only I knew. The theft was a lie.

The bullying was real. Eleventh grade was the turning point in my life. Chapter 2 I went from the girl nobody noticed to the thief everyone hated.

It started when Theresa, the richest girl in our class, lost her spending money. She stood at the front of the classroom and shouted, “There's a thief in this class!

Someone stole all my money! Two hundred dollars!” As she shouted, her eyes flicked toward me. I was the poorest student in the class.

My shabby clothes stood out among everyone else's polished outfits. That gave me plenty of motive to steal. One pair of eyes after another turned to scrutinize me.

My face burned red with panic.

I stood up and stumbled over my words. “I didn't take it.” “You didn't?” Theresa's smile was vicious. “Then where did you get the money for those new shoes?

Everyone here knows you don't get enough money each month to buy even the cheapest sandwich.” Everyone knew how desperately poor I was.

My parents were divorced, and neither of them wanted me. They were each supposed to cover half my living expenses.

Even then, I had to call and beg over and over before they grew irritated enough to throw a little money my way. It wasn't even enough to eat on.

I kept trying to explain. “My grandma gave me the money.

I really didn't steal from you.” My grandma had collected recyclable bottles and cans for ages to save enough for one pair of shoes. Theresa only laughed at me.

Only the person who'd accused me knew just how innocent I was. Theresa and her friends tore through my backpack and flung the books in my desk all over the place.

After school, they would drag me into the bathroom. In the freezing winter, filthy, icy water would come pouring down over my head.

Then they'd stand there laughing loudly, enjoying the sight of my misery, pretending it was all to cure me of my stealing habit. The teachers did nothing.

My classmates watched without sympathy. My divorced parents wouldn't take my side either. “Why do they only pick on you? Why not anyone else?

You must be doing something wrong.” The label of thief was branded onto me. I became someone everyone despised. I went to school terrified every day.

Between classes and after school, my hands and feet would shake. I never knew what Theresa and her friends would do to torment me next.

School had been my one chance to change my life. Now it was my nightmare. It was no surprise that my round of college applications ended in disaster.

Before graduation, on the day all the decisions were finally in, the only place left for me was a reasonably good community college. Theresa appeared in front of me, smiling.

She reached out and patted my cheek, not hard, but not gently either. “I'd used up all my spending money on shopping back then.

I didn't want my parents yelling at me, so I told everyone you'd stolen it. My dad even gave me two thousand dollars to make me feel better.

Thanks for ‘helping’ me out by taking the blame. I'm off to college now. Bye, you broke loser.” She'd been accepted to an ordinary private college near Westridge.

It wasn't particularly well known, but the tuition was outrageously expensive. She was heading off to a new future. I was left standing there, looking at the wreckage of my life.

Two thousand dollars was all it had taken to rob me of my only future and extinguish my chance to change my life. That application cycle had been a crushing defeat.

I went to my longdivorced parents separately. I threatened to kill myself unless they paid for a oneyear collegeprep program after graduation so I could apply again.

Eventually, I got enough money to cover the year. The price was that they disowned me. I started the program.

This time, there was no bullying and no filthy, freezing water in the winter. I put all my time into studying.

Chapter 3 The following year, I finally got the acceptance I'd wanted and enrolled at Westridge as a freshman.

During the hard days of that collegeprep year, I'd imagined that bad people got what they deserved, that the people who'd bullied me must be having a miserable time.

Then the algorithm put Theresa right in front of me, with nothing to soften the truth. It shattered every one of those fantasies. She was doing well.

So well that I felt a little envious. Then came an overwhelming surge of rage. Life was so unfair. Why did someone who'd destroyed my life get to be this happy?

Why did everything go so smoothly for her? I kept scrolling through her Facebook page. Since starting college, most of Theresa's posts had revolved around her crush.

Reading between the lines, I pieced together a girl's first experience of falling for someone. But how did a bully deserve a beautiful love story?

I enlarged a picture of her crush and studied his familiar face. Then it hit me: he was an upperclassman I knew at Westridge. We'd met once when I first enrolled.

A secret, vicious impulse stirred inside me. In eleventh grade, Theresa had falsely accused me of stealing her money, then bullied me for a year and a half.

Now, three years later, I might as well make that accusation true. This time, I would really steal something of hers. William Sanders was practically the face of Westridge.

He was handsome and rich. When I'd first arrived, I'd watched him speak confidently onstage and win over a crowd of younger students.

He was president of the history club, and studying history was his one and only hobby.

Even Theresa's posts made that clear, though her comments about it were complaints. “I hate history. It's so boring.

Listening to it puts me to sleep.” When the clubs were recruiting at the start of my freshman year, William and I had added each other on Facebook. We'd never spoken to each other.

I opened our chat and sent a message. [Hi, William. Could I join the history club?] Maybe I'd been a little impulsive. It was already eleven at night.

Messaging him this late was presumptuous. Just as I was regretting bothering him, William actually replied. [Sorry, the club's full.

We're not taking new members.] He was as aloof as ever, giving very little away. He treated all the younger students with the same businesslike detachment. I wasn't discouraged.

I sent another message. [Sorry, William.

I've just been reading about this all evening, and I still don't understand how the Tang dynasty survived for more than a hundred years after the An Lushan Rebellion.

What kept it going?] [Since the club's full, I'll ask an upperclassman in the English department next door.] William replied: [What do those English majors know?

The Tang dynasty clearly—] He quickly unsent the message. A minute later, a sixtysecond voice message arrived, followed by a text. [It's hard to explain over the phone.

Let me buy you dinner tomorrow and walk you through it.] I held my phone and smiled in triumph. William was much more cultured and gracious than I'd expected.

No wonder Theresa had fallen for him at first sight during a mixer for students from both schools. He enthusiastically invited me to meet him at a steakhouse.

He even brought several history books, planning to explain it all properly.

Before the steak even arrived, William launched in. “I hardly ever meet girls who are interested in history.

You're different from the other girls I've known.” Such a cliché of an opening line. Chapter 4 But I believed he meant it. Countless girls at Westridge liked him.

Even someone in my own dorm room had a secret crush on him.

Yet after a few conversations with him, they all had the same complaints. “William's goodlooking, but talking to him is so boring.” “I don't understand his history stuff, and he has zero interest in my latest celebrity crush.” “I think I'll just admire William from a distance.” I was different.

I'd come to this meeting prepared. He talked at length. I simply smiled and looked at the space between his eyebrows.

According to psychology, that kind of gaze was the most likely to make someone think you were listening intently.

William was clearly enjoying it. “The north was devastated by the wars, but wealthy regions like Jianghuai weren't touched by the fighting.

As long as tax revenue from Jiangnan kept coming up the waterways from the southeast, the Tang still had a firm grip on its most important source of money.” I dangled the bait. “But could the TwoTax Law really keep the finances running?” William smiled confidently. “Of course, because—” “Oh, look how late it is!

William, I've taken up so much of your time.” I looked at the time with a show of surprise. Two hours had passed without us noticing.

I'd tossed him a question, then cut him off just as he wanted to answer. His disappointment was plain to see. “It's not that late.

We could talk a little longer.” I shook my head firmly. “I can't. If I get back too late, my family will videocall to check up on me.” I was lying.

Neither of my parents had called me once since I'd started college. Without discussing it, each had decided I was the other's responsibility. Besides, I was an adult now.

There was no reason to waste any more time on me. Student loans and working while I studied were the only things allowing me to stay in school. But William believed me.

He was eager to make another plan. “Are you free tomorrow?

We could keep talking about this then.” The fish was hooked. “Really?” I sounded delighted. “Then I'll wait for your call tomorrow.” I was a little excited and caught his arm without thinking.

Physical contact at a moment when someone was so eager to express himself could easily be mistaken for the thrill of falling in love.

That was something I'd taught myself from psychology while trying to save myself during my collegeprep year.

Those cold, impersonal words had led me out of the darkness, step by step. Now they'd become a blade in my hand.

William blushed abruptly, but he didn't pull away from my touch. “I'll definitely call you tomorrow.” He asked me out three days in a row.

From the Tang to the Song, from the Ming to the Qing, we went through the dynasties.

Every time, I timed a question just right, then announced I had to leave as he grew eager to show off his literary knowledge.

After a few rounds of this, William could no longer tell whether the sadness he felt when we parted came from the frustration of being cut off or from not wanting me to leave.

We kept meeting up. Theresa finally couldn't take it anymore. Late on the fourth night, she put a new post on Facebook. [So annoying. My crush has been busy for days.

I can't get him to meet up no matter how often I ask.] Someone in the comments offered a suggestion. [Gorgeous, why don't you just tell him you're coming to his school tomorrow?] Theresa quickly liked that comment.

Chapter 5 I quietly turned off my phone screen. Just a few minutes later, William sent me a message on Messenger. [Sorry, something's come up tomorrow. We'll have to cancel.

I'll ask you out again for the day after.] William and I had spent a few days together, but he'd clearly known Theresa much longer.

It was perfectly normal for him to cancel on me and meet another pretty, clingy younger student instead. I stared at the screen, expressionless.

Soon Theresa excitedly put up another post. [Seeing my crush tomorrow! He agreed to go to the amusement park with me.

Which dress should I wear?] The photos showed three pretty, fitted dresses.

Her followers debated enthusiastically in the comments and soon voted for a white one that made her look sweet and innocent.

Theresa smugly pinned a comment. [Tomorrow I'm telling him how I feel. Wait for the good news!] Every reply told her not to worry, that it was definitely going to work out.

I gripped my phone so tightly that my knuckles stood out. Why did the girl who'd bullied me get to be so happy?

She'd left me trapped in the mud, then turned away without a care to welcome her new life. Life didn't care about fairness. The only person who could give me justice was me.

The next day was the weekend. I got up early, made myself presentable, and went to the steakhouse William and I usually visited.

Theresa had already updated her followers in the comments. [I'm with my crush now! We're on our way to the amusement park.

After today, I'll officially have a boyfriend, haha.] She seemed certain that telling him how she felt would work. Was she really that happy?

If I shattered her dream at the moment she was closest to getting it, would she know despair? Unhurried, I took out my phone and put two photos into a Facebook post.

One showed the familiar steakhouse. A place where someone had enjoyed talking with you could instantly bring back those happy conversations and revive the flutter of attraction.

The other showed a book on ancient Chinese history by a Western scholar. Across from me sat Bell, an upperclassman majoring in English.

He was smiling brightly, his knuckles clearly defined as he held the book steadily by its spine. The setting was the same. The person in it had been replaced.

That was bound to make someone feel in danger of being replaced himself. I set the post so only William could see it and added a caption. [So happy!

Bell from the English department is going to teach me some history today.] [He even brought this book on ancient history.

I can't wait to see how Western writers tell this part of China's history.] Ten minutes after the post went up, William commented. [Who are you with right now?] [He's an English major.

What history could he possibly teach you?] I'd never been there for the history. I chose to ignore his comment and chatted warmly with Bell.

Whenever William had commented on my Facebook posts before, I'd replied immediately. This time, I ignored him.

I left him on the other end, anxiously checking the post again and again, refreshing it over and over. There was never a reply notification.

Before long, my phone started ringing, facedown on the table. I didn't even look. Chapter 6 I kept smiling and chatting happily with Bell as I casually silenced my phone.

The screen lit up and went dark a few more times, then finally stayed dark. For the first time in William's world, I was unreachable.

Not knowing was the beginning of intense curiosity. Losing control was the beginning of panic. Those tangled feelings were working on him.

Bell and I were well into our conversation when a familiar figure appeared in the steakhouse. It was William. I hadn't put out much bait