Chapter 78 Target of Public Criticism
"Come on, guys, don't say it like that," Melissa said, her tone dripping with false warmth. "Bianca just didn't know how to dress before. I admit, the first time I saw her, I was shocked too. The change is huge—especially her face. Sure, a new style helps, but those outfits she used to wear? They didn't deserve Bianca at all."
It sounded like she was defending Bianca, but every word carried a barb, deliberate and sharp.
The air in the classroom shifted. Eyes turned, their gazes now tinted with something else.
"I knew it," a boy muttered from the third row. "No way I'd miss a face like hers before. Gotta say, if she did get work done, it's damn good."
"Not necessarily surgery," someone else countered. "Looks pretty natural to me."
Bianca let out a soft laugh, leaning back in her chair with a lazy elegance. Her eyes slid to Melissa, calm but edged with amusement. "Melissa, you used to tell me I looked ordinary. You said if I dressed too flashy, people would only notice the clothes, not me. You advised me to stick to sportswear—simple and plain. But… I realized I've got a bit of charm after all. Your style doesn't suit me. Maybe you should try it yourself?"
Gasps rippled through the room.
"What? You mean her old look was Melissa's idea? That's messed up. I can't believe I missed out on seeing her like this."
"Some people dress to impress themselves, but shove ugly, bargain-bin clothes onto others. That's calculated."
"She plays the good friend well, always saying she's helping Bianca… turns out it was on purpose."
The accusations hit like stones. Melissa's face went pale, her hands fluttering in protest. "No, no, it wasn't like that. She liked dressing that way. I didn't force her!"
"Really?"
Bianca rose, her voice crisp as a slap. "Last year at the sports meet, I wanted to wear a skirt. You told me my legs were too thick, that it'd look bad, and shoved your old sweatpants at me. And at the arts festival—you said my hair was too flat, made my face look big, so you cut me bangs. Uneven ones. Everyone saw it. Didn't you?"
Her gaze swept the room, daring anyone to deny it.
"I thought you were being kind," she continued, her tone cooling. "But after I studied fashion myself, I realized every outfit you recommended was wrong for me."
Silence fell heavy over the classroom.
Forgotten memories surfaced in the minds of her classmates, sharp and undeniable. Anger flared in their eyes as they turned on Melissa.
How could anyone be that petty?
Melissa's face flushed blotchy red and purple, her lips trembling. "No… it's not like that. She liked it… I…"
She didn't get to finish.
"Please," someone scoffed. "Those clothes were so ugly my grandma wouldn't wear them. No one in their right mind would choose that."
"I've walked past them plenty of times and heard Melissa nitpicking Bianca's looks. Turns out she was just jealous and trying to push her down."
The tide turned completely. Melissa was the villain now.
Bianca took a slow breath, her expression softening into disappointment. She pressed her lips together, then spoke with a gentle sincerity that cut deeper than any insult. "Enough. Don't be too hard on Melissa. I'm sure she didn't mean any harm. Maybe her taste is… unconventional. And honestly, I owe her—without her, I wouldn't have felt so much less alone before."
Her voice was warm, her eyes forgiving. She even gave Melissa a small, sweet smile.
That smile was a blade wrapped in silk. It made Melissa look petty, small, and mean.
Melissa stared at Bianca's innocent face, feeling a knot of rage and humiliation lodge in her chest. It wouldn't go up, wouldn't go down. Her eyes burned, tears threatening to spill. She was seconds away from breaking down in front of everyone.
But she knew—if she cried, they'd call her fake.
Her carefully maintained image shattered in an instant.
She wanted to scream, to call Bianca out as a hypocrite, to rip the mask off her face. But the words stuck in her throat. If she did, they'd say she was lashing out, desperate, pathetic.
Every gaze in the room was on her.
On the schemer. On the one Bianca was defending.
Melissa's fists clenched so tight her nails bit into her palms. The mix of shame and fury shook her down to her bones. She swallowed it whole, forcing her body to move.
She stepped down from the podium without a word.
Just before she crossed the doorway, she cast Bianca a look filled with venom.
The midday sun streamed through the cafeteria's tall windows, laying fractured patterns across the polished floor.
Bianca carried her tray to an empty seat by the window. Before she could sit, a voice rang out behind her.
"Well, well… if it isn't Bianca. Heard you made quite the splash today."
Bianca turned. The pink hair was impossible to miss. Debra's clothes hung loose, a lollipop tucked between her lips. Her eyes roamed Bianca from head to toe like she was inspecting merchandise.
Bianca set her tray down with deliberate care, her fingertips grazing the cool metal edge. A faint curve touched her lips. "Not nearly the kind of splash you've made around here."
Debra Turner was Blair's girl, and since Bianca had set foot in the academy, Debra had made a sport of hassling her.
The sarcasm hit its mark. Debra's smile tightened, her brows dipping.
The meek little lamb had grown fangs. Anyone would take notice.
Natalie, Debra's shadow, stepped forward, hands on her hips. Her voice was shrill. "Bianca, what's that supposed to mean? Debra was just being polite. You could show a little respect."
"Yeah," another girl chimed in from Debra's other side, her eyes scanning Bianca with open disdain. "You think a new look makes you special? Everyone knows you got into this school through connections. Your grades are trash. How dare you hog a spot in the honors class?"
The tension was instant, sharp. Students nearby leaned in, whispering.
Bianca's smile faded, her eyes cooling. Her grades had been excellent once. But Melissa's constant meddling, the chaos she stirred, had dragged her down.
"Connections?" Bianca's voice sliced through the chatter. Her gaze locked on the girl, sharp as a blade. "Are you accusing me of falsifying my exam scores? Or of colluding with the academy? Do you have proof?"
The girl faltered, stepping back under the weight of Bianca's stare, but her tone stayed defiant. "Everyone knows—"
"Spreading rumors without evidence. Damaging someone's reputation. Do you know what that's called?" Bianca's voice was clear, ringing.
The girl's bravado cracked, her eyes darting away.
"We're classmates," Debra interjected, her hand clamping down on Bianca's shoulder. Her eyes narrowed in warning. "It was just a joke. Don't take it so seriously."
"A joke?" Bianca arched a brow, brushing Debra's hand away. In the stunned silence that followed, she pulled her phone from her pocket, held it up in front of Debra's face, and with a flick of her thumb, played the recording.