“Fuck him,” Autumn says. “Fuck him hard. We’re going to get out of here, okay? I sent Jacob to get the car already.”

I nod and my chest heaves up and down, but I can’t help but look over at Dean again. He looks as if he’s having the time of his life, as if he didn’t just pull my heart out in front of hundreds of people and stomp on it for everyone to see.

I’m not sure why it takes Jacob so long to get the car, but I end up sitting there long enough to see the principal crown the prom king and queen, and as if he’s attempting to rub salt even deeper into my wounds, Dean’s eyes meet mine from the stage and he utters words that will leave me reeling for the short remainder of my high school career.

“Thank you to everyone who voted for me as your Prom King,” he says, his eyes not leaving mine. “And thank you to my ex-girlfriend for letting me down when I needed you the most. You make moving on far too easy...”

Two Weeks before Graduation

Talk about Dean’s jab at me onstage at prom has finally died down, and I’m back to counting down my final days at Central High. I’m also back to avoiding him like the plague and leaving all of the classes we take together early.

I feel really foolish for putting so much energy into our relationship and caring about it so much because I have absolutely nothing to show for it. Since I spent so many nights worried about him and trying to get our relationship back on track to what it once was, I never finished my portfolio for Western Peak. And since I don’t want to major in any of the other programs they offer, I have no choice but to withdraw my “Thank you” letter from Harvard and exchange it for a declaration of admission.

I plan to apply for one of their special overseas programs this summer. That way, if Dean ends up going to Harvard as well, I’ll never have to see him.

He suddenly walks into our chemistry class, smiling, and it takes everything in me not to grab the Bunsen burner off the table and toss it at his head.

God, I fucking hate him right now...

“Alright everyone, you’ve got twenty more minutes to look over your notes,” our teacher says. “The first part of your final starts right after that.”

As usual, no one in this class has ever paid too much attention so most of them just continue talking, caring nothing about the possibilities of a bad grade at this point in their high school careers.

I flip through my notebook, looking for the equations page, and a varsity cheerleader steps in front of me.

“Yes?” I ask.

“Is it true?” She smirks.

“Is what true?”

“You know...” She smiles at me as if I would ever give her the time a day. “About Dean.”

“Yes, it is true. He’s a douchebag with a high affinity for lies.”

“Affinity?” She looks confused. “Is that some type of candy?”

Ugh... “No, it’s—” I shake my head. “Never mind. What are you talking about now? Are we still on prom night?”

“Prom night?” She laughs. “No, that was last week. That’s old news. Is it true that Dean was the tenth guy you slept with?”

“What?”

“Rumor has it that you sucked his cock on your first date and begged him to watch a sex tape you’d made with your ex on your phone. Is that true?”

I roll my eyes. “Does that even sound true?”

“It sounds like you’re not denying it.”

“Because there’s nothing to deny.” I’m annoyed. “It’s not true.” I shut my notebook and look over at Dean as the cheerleader approaches him.

I overhear her ask him the same questions, and out of common fucking decency I expect him to answer her ridiculous claims in the same way I did, but he doesn’t.

He gives her that trademark smile I used to love, a grin I now fucking hate with every ounce of my soul, and he says, “It sounds like Mia...But I’m a gentleman, so I’ll never tell.”

Just like that, the rumor mill at Central High is activated, and he’s practically guaranteed that my final days here will be a living hell.

And they are.

Every day that I come to school, the very people I’ve always purposely avoided are talking about me behind my back, whispering with every step I take. And the asshole who perpetuated it all? He does nothing to calm the horde. He never denies the crazy rumors that develop from the already twisted storyline, and every now and then I catch him smirking as I wipe away tears during class.

Whenever we pass each other in the hallway, we both look away (which only heightens the curiosity of the closest spectators) and by the time graduation rolls around, I’m debating whether I should go or not.

On the last day of class, yearbook signing day, I feel the most humiliated. People are rudely asking me to sign my picture with the byline of “#1 Cock Collector” and still asking me about a sex tape that has never existed.

I don’t go to graduation. Even though my mom drops me off at the ceremony and sits in the crowd, I leave through a backdoor with Autumn and we decide that we’ll never discuss Central or the asshole that ruined it for me ever again.

The only exception is the headline that runs in the next day’s local paper. Central High had posted an interesting bit of information about the graduation ceremony.

I was the first valedictorian in the school’s history that didn’t show up.

Dean was the first salutatorian to do the same.

The paper demands answers for the strange “lack of class” and wonders what could have happened that both of the school’s highest honored students could have wanted to miss the program.

I skim the rest of the article and tuck the newspaper into a box that I don’t plan on opening for decades, along with any and everything that reminds me of the boy who broke my heart, asshole Dean Collins.

If there’s one thing I’ll never be able to pack away, it’s the utter resentment I have for him in my heart, and I swear to god I will never forget how this moment feels. I will never fucking forget...

PART II. 

The Present. 

Regret ** Resentment** Redemption

RESENTMENT (n:.) The act of hating—no, fucking loathing Dean Collins. (Yes, I’m well aware that’s not the actual definition, but it might as well be...)

Chapter 10

MIA

Ten years later...

Subject: A resignation and a FUCK YOU. (Fuck you HARD.)

Dear McConnell & Brinley Associates,

I’m sending you this email to let you know that today will be the last day I ever step foot in your company.

I have truly enjoyed wasting the last four years of my life, pretending to believe in your vision, and I’m seriously hurt that I will no longer be able to sacrifice my sanity working under the directive talents of the amazingly driven and highly intelligent individuals that run this company. (Translation: Look up the word “sarcasm” just in case you think I’m being serious.)

Since I probably won’t be given an exit interview, I’ll give you my closing thoughts here: I gave up Julliard for your company’s shit, and by “shit” I mean the joke of a benefits package you offer, the terrible hours you make us all work, and the dense CEO who’s only in charge because his “Daddy” appointed him. (For the record, he’s a fucking idiot, and if no one forwards this message to him, I’ll put it on the internet, so more people can see it.) My Harvard degree has pretty much withered to waste by being put in charge of coffee runs, calendar writing, and paper supply inventory counts, so guess what? I’m taking half of the newest printing paper inventory with me

And as far as the mandatory, “What do you think our company could do to improve?” final question of the usual exit interview, my answer stands as such: You can shut the hell down and give everyone the key to their souls back before it’s too late....