He Drugged Me And Let Her Cut My Hair Chapter 03
After school, I went to Sabrina to hand over my class representative duties.
She sat in her seat with undisguised satisfaction written all over her face.
“There’s not really much to hand over,” she said lazily, inspecting her reflection in a compact. “Ethan said I’d do great, so he told me to go for it.”
Then she smiled at her own reflection. “And honestly, if even you could handle being class rep, how hard could it be?”
I picked up my things and turned to leave.
“Clara.”
Ethan caught up with me and stopped me by the wall outside campus. The setting sun stretched his shadow long across the ground.
“About earlier…” He hesitated, as if offering an excuse was a chore.
“I didn’t mean not voting for you like that. Sabrina’s never been on student council before, and we’re graduating soon. I just thought… maybe she should have one last high school memory. It’s her senior year.”
He looked at me. “Don’t overthink it.”
I said nothing.
He reached for me, but I turned slightly and avoided his hand.
That was when my eyes caught the silicone wristband on his wrist.
The edges were already worn down from how long he’d been wearing it.
I remembered it.
Sabrina had given it to him for his birthday last year. It had probably cost a few dollars at the campus convenience store, and she had put it on his wrist herself.
Meanwhile, the limited-edition signed sneakers I had saved up for years to buy him had never once been worn.
Now this cheap plastic band sat snug around the bone of his wrist, glaring at me like proof that everything I had ever given him meant nothing.
I still didn’t say a word. I turned and ran home.
After that, Ethan seemed to realize something had changed.
When boys pointed at my hair and laughed between classes, he actually frowned and snapped, “What’s so funny? If you’re that bored, go grind some practice tests.”
If I couldn’t find a practice packet, he would pass me his from the seat behind me.
After school, he started lingering instead of leaving right away, like he was waiting for me.
But it felt like rain falling too late on cracked, dead ground. It didn’t soothe anything. It was only noise.
For the last Founders’ Day showcase before graduation, every class had to put on a performance.
At Sabrina’s suggestion, our class chose to stage a short play, one she had personally written.
When the script started being passed around, I was doing practice problems and barely paying attention. Then waves of laughter broke out across the classroom, and my blood turned to ice.
By the time the script reached my desk, I already knew.
The heroine was a fat, vulgar, brainless high school girl who spent her life thirsting after the school heartthrob.
She hid his sneakers, deliberately tripped in front of him, copied the female lead’s style only to make a fool of herself.
Every line she had was grotesque, ridiculous, and viciously familiar.
My whole body started shaking.
After class, the boys stopped pretending. They laughed openly now.
“Guess art really does imitate life.”
“Sabrina’s powers of observation are incredible.”
Ethan was picked to play the male lead.
When he got the script, his brows drew together hard, and he glanced in my direction.
I couldn’t focus on my books anymore. With red eyes, I went straight to knock on our homeroom teacher’s office door. She only sighed and said the performance had already been submitted.
I sat there afterward, ice-cold all over, with no idea what I was supposed to do. Tears blurred my vision.
That night, I stayed up until late writing Ethan a long letter.
I used every humble, pleading word I had.
I begged him not to do the play.
I begged him to leave at least a shred of dignity between us.
The next day at rehearsal, I saw him arguing with Sabrina in a corner of the hallway.
He was frowning. Sabrina had a hand wrapped around his arm, her eyes red as she said something to him in a low voice.
A tiny spark of hope lit up inside me.
Maybe this could still be stopped.
On the day of the performance, I sat in the least noticeable corner of the audience, so nervous I thought I might throw up.
While I prayed silently for a miracle, the girl playing the grotesque version of me came waddling onstage in a messy wig and exaggerated ugly makeup, twisting herself into a parody of flirtation.
“Babe, don’t get so close to those nasty girls. My poor little heart can’t take it.”
The audience was in stitches.
People kept glancing at me. Some nudged each other and pointed.
“That’s her. The fat one.”
Then, right in the middle of my worst moment, Ethan and Sabrina walked onstage together.
The beautiful boy and the beautiful girl.
The crowd erupted instantly.
“Kiss her!”
“Get together already!”
