I thought high school was the last place Madison could hurt me. Then she walked into my section 12 years later, took one look at me in an apron, and smiled like she’d just found her favorite toy again.
I never thought I would see Madison again.
In high school, Madison was the girl.
Pretty. Rich. Loud. Untouchable.
I was the girl she chose when she wanted an audience.
People laughed because Madison was beautiful.
Madison knew it too.
And she loved it.
"Did your mom find that sweater in a donation bin?"
"Hey, Charity Case, are those shoes secondhand too?"
"Don't invite her anywhere expensive. She'll probably ask to split the bill into installments."
People laughed because Madison was beautiful, and when you're 16, beauty can be a target.
I still remember how hot my face got.
The worst part wasn't what she said about me.
It was what she said about my mother.
One day she looked at my lunch and said, "Your mom works all the time and this is still what she sends you?"
I still remember how hot my face got. I wanted to scream. Instead, I sat there and did what I got very good at back then.
