Rebel's influence

A weekeend of revange planning

I spent the entire weekend at home, pacing my room like a caged animal, my mind racing with thoughts of how I'd take Nick down. Crestwood Academy was supposed to be my fresh start, a place where I could finally find my footing, but instead, it felt like just another prison where I was an outsider. My mom, Rose, had enrolled me in this high-society school, believing it would somehow "fix" everything that was wrong in our lives. She'd leveraged Mr. Jackson's secret—his hidden marriage—to blackmail him into giving me a spot here. I had to hand it to her; she was both cunning and ruthless. But all it really meant was that I was alone here too.

Constantly moving had taught me to embrace isolation. With each new place, I learned not to get attached, to keep people at arm's length. Every friend I made was left behind as soon as Rose's latest romance fizzled out, like forgotten toys. That's what made me different from the Crestwood kids: they'd grown up in this bubble, their roots intertwined with each other's. They were comfortable here, surrounded by layers of history and familiarity. The thought twisted my stomach. I was tired of being on the outside, tired of being uprooted every time Rose's dreams of "love" collapsed like a house of cards.

But if Crestwood was supposed to be my "opportunity," I was determined to make it work on my terms. Saturday afternoon, I finally sat down with my phone, resolve hardening in my chest as I searched for everything I could learn about Nick. His social media was exactly what I'd expected: endless photos of parties, games, and friends—he practically oozed popularity. I had to admit, there was something magnetic about him, but I wasn't there to admire him. I was there to destroy him.

Then I found her: Mia. The girl everyone seemed to orbit around, the reigning queen bee of Crestwood. She had that effortless charm, the kind of girl who ruled with a subtle smile and a glance that could make or break someone's day. In picture after picture, Mia and Nick stood side by side, the "power couple" of Crestwood, their flawless poses framed by laughter and vibrant backgrounds. But something felt off. Their smiles were for the camera, their hands barely grazed each other, and not a single photo showed any real intimacy. No stolen kisses, no hand-holding—nothing to suggest they actually cared about one another. It was all for show, and I could see it clearly.

And that's when the idea hit me like a lightning bolt. If their relationship was just another performance, then I could tear it apart from the inside. I'd seen girls like Mia before—always more focused on status than genuine connection. And guys like Nick? They enjoyed the attention but rarely bothered to look deeper. What would happen if Mia started doubting him? Or if Nick felt she wasn't worth the effort? I didn't need to do much—just plant a few well-timed rumors, whisper the right words, and watch their facade crumble.

The thrill of control surged through me, something I hadn't felt in a long time. I could picture Mia glancing at Nick with suspicion, her confidence fading as she questioned everything they had. I could see Nick, blindsided and caught off guard, scrambling to maintain his image. If I timed it right, I could shatter their golden image just before the hockey game, making Nick lose focus. And his team would feel the impact, too—if he wasn't fit to lead off the ice, they'd start to question his leadership on it.

By Sunday night, I felt a sense of purpose settling in my bones. For the first time, I felt like I had the upper hand. Crestwood Academy was about to see a new side of me, and as for Nick and Mia? Their little "king and queen" act was about to come crashing down, and I couldn't wait to watch it all unfold.