"Ugh, what am I even doing?"
I stared at my reflection, tugging at the hem of a black bodycon dress. I looked way too grown up for seventeen. Why did my genes decide to give a lazy person like me an athletic build? My shoulders looked like they belonged to a swimmer—or a wrestler. "Thank God for the curves," I muttered, turning to the side. "At least I have a shape, otherwise I'd just be a brick with a face."
"Valentina!" my mom, Martha, yelled from downstairs.
"Yes, Mom! I'll be down in a few minutes!"
I quickly swapped the dress for something more school-appropriate, though my mind was still racing. I'd spent the last year starving myself, down to two meals a day, trying to find a "style." I'd lost the weight, and my lower body looked great, but my face stayed stubbornly round. Was there a diet for a "knife-cut" jawline? Probably not. I just looked like a fit person with a chubby toddler's head.
I headed downstairs, where the smell of breakfast was already waiting to tempt me.
"So, what's your new class resolution?" Mom asked as I sat down.
"Mom, 'new class resolutions' aren't a thing. Stop making up words."
"Are you correcting me, young lady?" she asked, though she had a smirk on her face.
"I'm not correcting you," I sighed. "I'm stating a fact."
"And the fact is you look like a potato," my younger brother, Alex, chipped in.
"Shut up, prick," I snapped.
"Valentina! What did I say about curse words?" Mom warned.
"Sorry, Mom."
I took a bite of the food and nearly melted. "Oh my god, this is delicious. I need to pack some for school."
"No, baby," Mom said firmly. "You told me—explicitly—not to let you take extra food because you're watching your weight. I'm sticking to your instructions."
"But Mom, forget my weight! I think I look fit enough. Right, Alex?"
Alex nodded, his mouth full of eggs. "Yeah, sis. You're already fit. I don't know why you're starving yourself anyway."
I ignored him, but he was right. I was tired of thinking about my body. Just go to school, Val, I told myself. Face your enemies, finish senior year, and get out.
The bus ride to our all-girls school was the usual blur. When I stepped off at the gates, I was greeted by a few juniors and seniors. I headed straight for the Business section.
The moment I walked into the classroom, the familiar "How was your holiday?" chorus started. I answered politely, but my eyes were scanning for Amelia, my "best friend."
I spotted her immediately. She was huddled up with my academic rival, looking like a total "pick-me." Amelia is 4'11" and I'm 5'8". Usually, when we go out, I'm the one getting the compliments, and I know it kills her. She tries to overcompensate with these wild outfits that honestly make her look like a rat wearing human clothes.
She caught my eye and didn't even wave. This is the girl who constantly mocks my hair because it doesn't grow fast, or points out my acne and hyperpigmentation. Meanwhile, her skin is clear, but let's just say her body isn't exactly "proportional." She only stays close to me because she needs my notes for exams. She's a clown, and I'm the one providing the circus.
I walked over to our usual spot. "Hey, Amelia. Did you save me a seat?"
She didn't even look up. "Why would I?"
My heart sank. We had a pact: whoever got to school first in our final year would save a desk for the other. Clearly, loyalty wasn't in her vocabulary today.
"You can sit here," a voice called out.
It was Juliet, a girl everyone made fun of because she talked so fast you could barely understand her. She was sitting alone, her skin flared up with acne just like mine.
"Oh, thank you, Juliet," I said, sliding into the seat next to her.
"Two acne warriors sitting together," one of the guys—the class jokers—shouted from the back.
"The hell is wrong with you?" I snapped back, shutting him down instantly. I turned to Juliet and smiled. "That's a really pretty name for a girl as beautiful as you."
Juliet blushed. "I know your name, Valentina," she said, her words rushing together in a nervous blur.
"Well, thanks again, Julie."
When the results from last year were handed out, I felt a surge of adrenaline. I was still at the top of the class. My rival had slipped down to third place. But the real victory? My Math and Economics scores. I had topped the entire section.
"Congratulations," Juliet whispered, looking at my paper.
"Let me see yours," I said, leaning over. She was average, but she was struggling hard with Math. "Hey... do you want to be my study partner?"
Juliet's eyes lit up. "Yes! I'd love to!"
For the first time all morning, I stopped worrying about my shoulders or my skin. I had a new partner, I was still the smartest girl in the room, and Amelia was officially on my "don't care" list.