Chapter 77
“Ew… How many guys has Aurora hooked up with?” one student frowned. “You think she’s got an STD or something?”
“Gross!” a girl exclaimed, her face contorting in disgust. “I heard those things spread like wildfire!”
Instantly, the crowd instinctively widened the circle around Aurora. Some even fanned the air as if to dispel a foul odor. Everyone condemned and accused her. The irony was palpable; the photos were clearly fake, the Photoshop so sloppy anyone could see it. Aurora stood there, yet no one bothered to ask her side of the story.
Alison casually blew on her perfectly manicured nails, relishing Aurora’s humiliation. She was ecstatic.
“This is exactly how it should be,” she mused. “A country bumpkin like her should know her place—lurking in the shadows where she belongs. The very thought of her trying to stand shoulder to shoulder with us is unforgivable. She dared to do that. Now she’ll face the consequences.”
Alison shot Jenny a meaningful glance. Jenny pulled out her phone and began recording. Aurora had caused Maura’s car accident, forcing her to drop out. This footage of Aurora’s plight would surely lift Maura’s spirits and perhaps even speed her recovery.
Suddenly, a bucket of filthy water appeared. The muddy, debris-filled liquid poured down, aiming to soak Aurora.
Startled, Aurora stumbled backward. Her upper body escaped the deluge, but her bare calves were not so lucky; even her skirt’s hem was speckled with grimy water. The photos, now scattered on the ground, were swept away by the dirty water, their contents partially obscured. It was as if the scene foreshadowed Aurora’s fate—ground into the mud, with no hope of recovery.
The onlookers burst into applause, praising the hero for “punishing the wicked.”
A familiar face appeared at the back of the crowd—a Class F student. He watched for a moment, then ran off with his backpack, seemingly unwilling to intervene.
Alison’s face lit up with a smug smile, her malice unconcealed. With the only potential help gone, she believed Aurora was doomed to humiliating expulsion from Mereida High School.
The bucket’s contents were a mystery, but the stench was unmistakable—a sharp, foul odor like sewage sludge. Along with the filthy water came a barrage of vicious insults.
“You cheap tramp!” a girl shrieked. “You don’t deserve to be at Mereida. Get lost!”
Those words seemed to break a dam of hostility. A stocky boy with acne shouted, “Gross! Nobody wants you here!” Another yelled, “Why don’t you crawl back to whatever gutter you came from?” From the back of the crowd, someone yelled, “Drop out already!”
Suddenly, the entire school seemed turned against Aurora. Insults flew from all directions, accompanied by a hail of water bottles and crumpled food wrappers. Though she stood on solid ground under a clear sky, Aurora felt transported to a medieval pillory. Students lined both sides of the path, pelting her with trash and abuse as if she were a condemned criminal.
Security guards soon noticed the commotion. They blew their whistles frantically, trying to quiet the crowd and return everyone to their classrooms. But the students, caught up in their righteous fury, paid no attention to the guards they usually ignored. They were many; they feared nothing. ‘Safety in numbers,’ they thought. Besides, Alison was the main target; they were hardly accomplices.
This was the perfect outlet for their pent-up frustrations. Their “punching bag” was a real person—a thrill they couldn’t get from video games or social media. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and they seized it.
“Well done, Alison. You’ve successfully pissed me off,” Aurora said, tilting her head to dodge an incoming water bottle. She bent down, picking up the scattered photos and wiping her mouth with her finger. A wicked smile spread across her face.
Aurora admitted that Alison’s move had worked. If she were still the timid Aurora of her past life, she might have crumbled under the pressure of public opinion. Unable to find an opening to speak, she would have been defenseless. The building frustration could have truly broken her.
Aurora stepped forward, grabbing the toppled bucket of dirty water. She swiftly seized Alison’s collar and jammed the bucket over her head. She twisted the bucket, ensuring Alison’s face made thorough contact with its contents. The action was so quick and decisive that everyone, including Alison, was caught off guard.
Alison’s shriek pierced the air. The stench of sludge assaulted her senses, the nauseating odor snapping her back to reality. Jenny and Daisy rushed to pull Aurora away. Aurora didn’t resist, stepping back to create distance.
When the bucket was finally removed, Alison was a sight to behold. Her meticulously styled curls were plastered to her head with slimy muck. Her flawless complexion was now a canvas of muddy streaks and grime. The remaining sludge oozed down her face, and her designer dress—true to its exorbitant price tag—had soaked up every last drop of the putrid liquid. A foul odor clung to her, even stronger than Aurora’s.
“Aurora, I’ll make you pay for this!” Alison stomped her foot, her scream filled with rage. “Why are you all standing around? Do you want to stay with this bitch!”
Alison stood there, eyes closed, shrieking. Her piercing voice cut through the air, momentarily silencing the chaotic scene. Everyone stared at Aurora in stunned silence.
The crowd had expected a different scene—Aurora in tears, desperately trying to explain herself. They’d imagined her cowering, a trembling target for their righteous anger. They’d anticipated pleas and apologies.
But Aurora’s next move caught everyone off guard. Her voice cut through the stunned silence, cool and collected. “Looks like there’s still some water left. Who wants to be our next lucky contestant?”
The security guard snapped out of his shock, rushing forward while shouting at Aurora, “Whoa, hold up there! Calm down! Let us handle this. We’ll make sure you get a satisfactory response. This is not the right thing to do!”
His voice jolted the crowd back to reality. Thinking the drama was over, they started gathering their bags, ready to head back to class and brag about their heroic deeds.
But Aurora wasn’t about to let them off so easily. Earlier, when she’d been drenched in filthy water, facing a mob of accusatory fingers and disdainful glares, these guards had stood far off, whistling, rooted to the spot like statues, telling everyone to “calm down.” Now that she was fighting back, he suddenly decided to play peacemaker. They clearly thought they could push her around because she had no backup. But Aurora wasn’t about to let it slide. This drama had begun with her being thrust into the spotlight against her will. If anyone was going to decide when the curtain fell, it would be her.