You'd think that after the incident—which, for the record, wasn't totally my fault—Bianca would've learned her lesson. But apparently, karma has a backlog, and this girl has patience for days.
And I? I had Lena.
My roommate, my chaos partner, the girl who had welcomed me on my first night with a smirk and a lollipop, was now in full ride-or-die mode.
"You're really doing it," she said, arms folded, one brow raised as I sprawled across our shared desk with wires, old tablets, and mirror fragments scattered like a mad scientist's lair.
"It's called Project Mirror, Mirror," I declared, holding up a cracked bathroom mirror with pride. "And it's going to be beautiful."
"What happened to Project Cupquake?"
"Retired. Replaced. Bianca's firework-filled cupcake fiasco got me a warning from Sister Agnes. This time? No fingerprints, no proof, just... poetic justice."
Lena leaned closer, her voice dropping. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the time Bianca uploaded a deep-fake of you crying to the school group chat, would it?"
"Guilty."
See, Bianca was spiraling. Ever since the cupcake explosion and Phoenix sticking up for me in front of the whole drama club, she'd gone from bratty to unhinged. She posted passive-aggressive notes in the bathroom. Recruited new mean girls. Even started acting sugary sweet to Phoenix, offering to "fix" his ruined laundry.
The bleach incident still boiled my blood.
Phoenix had taken it lightly—he laughed it off, shrugged, even let me steal his hoodie when mine got wet. But me? I was counting. Every little jab. Every glare. Every nasty rumor she dropped like poison.
And now?
It was time.
---
The prank took two weeks to plan.
Lena and I hacked the software of the school bathroom's digital mirrors—donated by some old alumni trying to be modern. Normally, they showed daily quotes and reminders. After our tweaks?
They'd play a montage.
Bianca. Tripping in gym class. Yawning during Sister Agnes's sermon. Laughing with gum stuck in her hair. Crying—just once—after her foundation melted off under the sun.
It wasn't bullying.
It was... karma, curated.
---
The reveal happened during morning bathroom rush hour. Right after assembly. Right when the hallways were a flood of skirts, blazers, and chitchat.
Girls entered the bathroom, expecting "You Are Beautiful!" on the mirrors.
Instead?
They saw Bianca... in all her embarrassing, glittering, slow-mo glory.
The bathroom exploded with laughter. Phones came out. Screams echoed. Bianca, arriving three seconds later, looked at the mirror, blinked—and let out the loudest, most dramatic, "WHAT THE—?!"
I watched from the hallway, sipping my juice box like the main character I was.
Lena leaned in. "This one's better than the glitter bomb."
I grinned. "Told you."
---
Later that day, I spotted Phoenix laughing with Jace in the courtyard.
Yes, Jace. He was finally back, looking like a shadow of himself, sharper, quieter, his smirk still intact but carrying weight behind it. He hadn't told me everything, but I knew where he'd been: the Black Holes—a brutal section of the reform system for the worst of the worst.
He called it, "A vacation in hell."
But he was here now. And weirdly? He was watching me. Like always. Like he never left.
And I was caught between him... and Phoenix.
Let's not talk about how my heart did a little somersault every time Phoenix said my name. Or how Jace leaned against lockers like he owned the place.
Nope. Not going there yet.
---
Bianca avoided eye contact for the rest of the day. Rumors flew that she tried to destroy the mirrors but accidentally triggered a schoolwide tech glitch, freezing the announcement board mid-sentence.
It now read:
"In case no one told you today… Bianca—"
And then it stopped. Forever.
Lena laughed so hard she snorted water out of her nose.
---
That night, under our dim dorm lights, Lena pulled me into a hug. "You're killing it, Wren. Slowly. Strategically."
I rested my head on her shoulder. "Revenge is exhausting."
"But worth it."
We lay there, planning the next chaos act. Meanwhile, Phoenix texted me a meme about glitter explosions, and Jace sent a "we need to talk" message that made my stomach flip.
Love triangles, mirror pranks, and roommates who make war feel like a slumber party?
St. Agatha's didn't know what hit it.
But they will.