Chapter 4: Princess Syndrome and Payback

From the next day on, Aubrey started targeting me.

When I took out pink-packaged tissues, she’d shout,

“Wow! Even your tissues have to be pink! Are you trying to turn yourself into a Barbie doll?”

During cleaning, when I wiped the broom handle, she’d trade glances with the boys.

“Princess syndrome incoming.”

During the biweekly seat change, I got tired moving my desk and wanted to rest a bit. Aubrey would shout in class,

“The princess can’t move anymore! Quick, some knights, help the princess move her things!”

Every time, the boys who hung out with her would play along, laughing louder than anyone else.

At first, Derek tried to stop her, thinking it was out of line.

But Aubrey just shrugged, “It’s just a joke. Natalie’s always so uptight. I’m helping her fit in.”

Derek actually nodded, thoughtful.

“Natalie does have a bit of princess syndrome. Are all girls like this nowadays?”

Aubrey punched his shoulder. “Hey, hey, hey! I’m not like that, okay? Don’t lump me in with her.”

Derek grinned.

I felt bitter. I’d always known Derek thought I was delicate and had a bit of a temper.

Maybe, to most boys, liking pink, being a neat freak, and being weak all meant you had princess syndrome.

Finally, one day, I couldn’t take it anymore.

That summer, I’d gone to the beach with my parents and gotten a lot tanner.

Actually, it had happened before. Usually, I’d go back to my original skin tone after staying home for a couple of weeks, so I never cared.

After the holiday, I wore a pink shirt under my uniform on the first day back.

When Aubrey saw it, she raised her voice in exaggerated shock.

“Oh my god! Natalie, you’re so dark and you still wear pink? Don’t you think it’s ridiculous?”

“No, seriously, this is killing me. What kind of princess are you, looking like that? What kind of princess is that dark? You look more like a little black dog, hahahahaha…”

She and a few boys burst out laughing. Derek seemed to find it funny too, curling his lips.

Helplessness and shame overwhelmed me. My blood rushed to my head and my fists clenched tight.

As they laughed, I grabbed my water bottle and splashed it in Aubrey’s face.

The water hit her face with a cold slap, mascara streaking down her cheeks like black tears.

Aubrey froze, then frantically wiped her face.

She was wearing makeup, and the water had smeared it.

“Cough, cough… what’s wrong with you? Are you crazy?!”

“Oh my god,” I mimicked, “coming to school with double eyelid tape, foundation, and lipstick—no wonder you’re not a princess. Are you here to sell smiles? Just an actress.”

A few boys frowned and tried to stop me. Derek was first, grabbing the bottle from my hand.

“Natalie, apologize.”

He glared down at me, frowning, his tone cold and commanding.

My jaw set, shoulders squared. “Apologize my ass.”

Derek’s eyes widened, and he slapped me hard.

My ears rang. I stared at the floor, refusing to let him see the tears pooling in my eyes.

The classroom fell dead silent. The old clock above the whiteboard ticked so loudly, it felt like the whole world was listening to my humiliation. Some kids looked away, someone muttered under their breath. That slap didn’t just sting my face—it echoed through my bones. For the first time, I realized how alone I really was in that room.