Waking Up As The Bullied Nerd

CHAPTER 6

That was the only thing my mouth had to say. My forehead was forming cold sweat, and I could feel tiny beads of moisture trickling down my temples. I nervously wiped them away with the back of my trembling hand. Standing there, my body involuntarily crouched a little, as if hiding from the intense gaze of the other students.

The grand entrance of the school loomed before me, adorned with a mesmerizing combination of gold and maroon. Its architectural beauty was captivating, almost resembling a tourist attraction rather than an educational institution. Boldly and flamboyantly, the words "SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY EDUCATION CENTER OF ASHFORD" were emblazoned on the entrance, demanding everyone’s attention. But instead of me getting amazed by the striking design, it only makes me feel worse than I was before. But people don’t call it something like STECA, they call the school Ashford High.

Was school always this terrifying?

But what was confusing me for me here is that everyone was looking at me as if I stood out more than that ridiculously flashy sign of theirs. Why would they stare at me like that intensely? Is there something on my face? Is Olivia famous or something? The thought of it is making my head hurt more than my stomach.

Their eyes were fixated on me, following every move I made. I don’t want to exaggerate things but if looks could kill, I’d probably be a goner before I could take my second step. The way they were staring was like piercing through my skin, trying to expose my vulnerable self.

I heard some rumors about entering this school meant entering a battleground, where students fought tooth and nail for recognition and aimed for a spot on the academic leaderboard. Now, as I know, Olivia Grace stood second among everyone else. This kid must be some sort of genius and a hard worker because if not, then she wouldn’t be able to beat everyone else here.

I breathe in and out, trying to steady my nerves. I slowly raised both of my hands to the level of my face and then, as the tension in the air thickened, I mustered all my strength...

Slap!

Of course, I did my habit of slapping myself to get my sh#t together. The sting from the slap served as a wake-up call, momentarily numbing my mind from the unnecessary worries that’s eating me alive. I have to be mature at times like these. After all, it's a school. How hard can this be right? Well, all I ever managed to finish was middle school and a bit of high school, but those two are the same thing, right?

School isn’t that hard…right?

People are inherently nosy beings, and I was no exception. I couldn't help but wonder if something was out of place, if there was something they saw that I didn't. For the umpteenth time, I checked my appearance, meticulously examining every detail:

I wore a dark maroon coat with golden-colored thread adorning its sleeves.

My skirt, made from fine cloth, fell two inches below my knees, featuring a checkered design of blue, black, and green. The tie, along with the rest of the uniform, matched the same pattern and material.

My shoes were shiny and white, complemented by knee-high socks.

Attached to my coat was a badge displaying the insignia of a pillar supporting an open book, with rays of the sun as its background.

I could tell this uniform was made from high-quality fabrics. The appearance itself was already a sign. an hour before arriving at school, I had been on the verge of backing out, hesitant to embrace the uniform. But the joy in the eyes of Salome and Felipe who were so thrilled about my first day of school swayed me. In the end, I gave in and simply wore the d#mn uniform. When did I become such a softie?

As I walked through the pavement that leads me inside the building, I noticed that the kids were trying their best to get away from me as far as they could. There was one guy who tried to make eye contact with me but I ended up glaring at him, so he won’t do anything funny like approaching and prompting a conversation with me.

I'm already bad at dealing with people in a friendly manner, let alone knowing how to handle teenagers. My hands were full with my multiple jobs, often barely getting any rest before the dawn broke.

Finding a friend was the least of my concerns. There were moments when my colleagues would make an effort to approach me, but due to my indifferent (and awful) attitude, I brushed off their attempts to form a meaningful connection and continued doing my thing.

"I want to switch bodies back," I muttered to myself, my face contorted with distress, as I continued to follow the path that leads me to that giant building.

As I was doing my very best to blend in and not draw attention to myself, which I failed miserably since I could shake their annoying gazes no matter how much I tried glare at them, I noticed a group of teenagers walking towards me. Before I could process what was happening, I was surrounded by the four of them who had very cheeky expressions while they were looking at me. One of them even had the audacity to use my shoulder as a resting place for his arm.

"You're alive?” he jeered in a degrading tone. “I thought you died! Although you look awful as ever, hahaha," He continued as he ridiculed with a mocking laugh. I didn’t say nor do anything, observing him from head to toe. He wore an open polo shirt, revealing a black shirt with an incredibly uncool design underneath.

He was accompanied by a girl who had a mean expression on her face and wore heavy make-up that seemed to violate school regulations, along with two other boys who resembled the typical bullies I used to fight way back in the day.

Wow, kids like these get into this prestigious school? Well, then again, they could be smart but have nasty attitudes. It’s quite common if they were raised spoiled.

Anyone could tell what they were trying to do. Seriously, why do kids think bullying the weak makes them look cooler? I mean, it makes them look pathetic since they target people weaker than them. I find this sort of thing adorable once in a while. His minions, as I'd like to call them, followed his lead and began spouting abusive language toward me.

"You should have died."

"Yeah, why did you choose to live, huh?"

"It's so embarrassing to see your face here again when you bring shame to the school," and a barrage of other offensive remarks.

But wait, what shame were they talking about? I was about to ask what they were talking about but I reminded myself not to delve into this person's life. Let's mind our own business, I thought to myself. We don't know her, and we don't need to know her on such a personal level.

I was never the target of bullying when I attended school, nor did I instigate any acts of aggression towards my fellow students. I was known for my propensity for violence, but I never directed it towards those who didn't provoke me.

Oh yeah, I did bully the jerks who enjoyed tormenting other kids for their own amusement. I wasn't being nice; I simply got easily bored in school and my idea of entertainment was engaging in fights with people.

"Hey," I addressed the unnamed boy who seemed all too pleased to treat me this way. "Are you someone I should remember?"

The noise created by the group momentarily quieted, but it quickly erupted into a wave of laughter.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! So, the rumors are true that you have amnesia! If you can't remember anything, we can always bond the way we did before." Judging from the ominous gleam in his eyes, I knew this person was far from being Olivia's friend.

I stared at the arm that hung around my shoulders. It was only eight in the morning, and I still had to go to the faculty office to find out which class I would be in. The first semester had started two weeks ago, and it had been a week since I woke up inside the body of a 17-year-old girl.

"This cheating b#tch must be—"

"Hey," I cut him off.

"f#ck off." I grabbed the seam of his shirt and pulled him close to my face. "If you brats are this pathetic, you might as well end it all and spare us from your sorry existence."

I forcefully pushed him away from me and continued walking to the building, not bothering to glance back at the group.

* * *

I was in a state of shock as I was followed by a male teacher who claimed to be my homeroom teacher.

"You started school a bit later than everyone else, so everyone in the class is already acquainted with one another. But you don't have to worry about that since everyone seems friendly. Lessons started last week, but you're smart enough to catch up with them, anyway. But don’t hesitate to approach me if you need help with anything, okay?" The homeroom teacher, Mr. Valdez said, ending his words with a reassuring smile.

I remained quiet throughout our conversation. All I could manage were nods and shakes of my head. This made the teacher wonder if I would be okay being so reserved. However, he reassured himself by noting how kind my classmates seemed to be.

The reason for my silence wasn't because I was naturally introverted; rather, my mind was processing everything, trying to associate myself with my new surroundings. It wasn't like I could fully assimilate into someone else's life as if it were my own.

Ever since I dropped out of my second year of high school, I had never set foot near a school. It had been years since I last addressed someone as a "Teacher." Of course, I stumbled over my words when I asked where the faculty room was located.

Mr. Valdez, the talkative and cheerful homeroom teacher, walked alongside me through the corridor, continuously sharing details about my classmates and other things I barely paid attention to.

His attention shifted momentarily when we reached the doorway to his classroom.

"We're here, Miss Grace," he said, and I followed him inside without a word of complaint.

As we entered the classroom, the noise from the students playing and chatting subsided. All eyes turned towards our homeroom teacher and the girl in the same uniform as the rest of them - me.

"Morning class!" Sir Valdez greeted me with a bright smile, walking confidently into the room while I silently followed behind. "We have a new addition to our class," he announced, gesturing towards me. Though unnecessary, his gesture drew even more attention to me than I had already received since we arrived.

Whispers and murmurs filled the once quiet classroom. Meanwhile, I maintained a tired expression on my face, acknowledging that I too wondered why I was here.

Ah, typical teenagers.

In the past, when I worked at a convenience store near a school, I observed how lively and interconnected they were. But I also noticed how quickly they could turn on each other when someone or something disrupted their norm, indulging in gossip and speculation.

Never did I expect that I would become that disruption.

My gaze scanned the room, taking in my surroundings and familiarizing myself with the layout. I paid little attention to the individuals in the room, knowing they would be insignificant once I returned to my own body. The most uncertain event looming over me was not only the switch back with Olivia but also the reason why this body swap happened in the first place.

As I continued to observe the room, my gaze landed on a face that was deeply etched into my memory. I was frozen still where I was standing as my eyes were fixated on him.

There’s no mistaking it. It’s him.

The rays of the golden sun streamed through the expansive window beside him, casting a luminous glow on every feature of his face. Every strand of his platinum blonde hair seemed to come alive, glistening and shimmering as if kissed by some celestial light. His eyes, a mesmerizing shade of purple, held an enigmatic depth that was drowning me in, captivating and my being.

They were the kind of eyes that could tell a thousand stories, and yet, at that moment, they appeared slightly dulled, hinting at a hidden melancholy. The sun's gentle touch accentuated the porcelain-like quality of his skin as if it were crafted from the finest alabaster. It provided a striking contrast to his vibrant hair and eyes, enhancing their allure.

However, it was not his hair, eyes, and complexion that rendered him captivating. His facial features were a work of art in itself. A long, aristocratic nose stood proudly in the center of his face, its sharpness and symmetry adding an air of regality. His well-defined jawline, chiseled and sculpted to perfection, showcased a masculinity that exuded strength and grace. Every contour and angle of his face seemed to harmonize flawlessly as if meticulously crafted by an otherworldly hand. It was a visage so exquisite that it left me, and anyone who laid eyes upon him, questioning if he was more than a human, if he was a deity in human form.

This was the same face that I knew years ago, but it transformed into a mature version, which got a smile out of me without my knowledge. While the little boy I had known had possessed a mysterious charm, he had now grown into a man beyond my expectation. The fusion of his extraordinary features created a countenance that transcended the boundaries of mere attractiveness. "Handsome" was a feeble word to describe him; he was beyond that.

It's that brat, Sage.

"Miss Grace?" I snapped back to reality when I heard my name being called. It was my homeroom teacher, Mr. Valdez, who had caught me in my momentary distraction.

"Yes?" I replied, trying to compose myself as quickly as possible. His interruption had left me feeling somewhat embarrassed, caught in the act of staring at someone.

"You can take the vacant seat at the back," Mr. Valdez said, gesturing towards an empty desk. "If you have any questions or need help with your studies, don't hesitate to approach me, all right?" I nodded in response, grateful for his guidance. He smiled at me before allowing me to find my seat.

I took slow, deliberate steps, my movements filled with grace and confidence as I navigated through the crowd. All eyes were drawn to me but mine were stuck on him. The weight of their stares pressed upon me, causing slight discomfort. But they didn’t faze my tired face at all. I kept a straight look up front while stole glances at him.

With a quick glance in Sage's direction, our eyes met, and time seemed to freeze for me. The world around us faded away, leaving only the two of us locked in an unspoken conversation. His gaze, penetrating and intense, held mine, and I found myself entranced by what they were trying to convey. If his profile had been breathtaking, the full view of his face was a sight to behold.

The more I observed him, the more I realized the true depth of his beauty. His perfectly symmetrical features defied conventional notions, leaving me breathless. It was as if every contour, every angle, had been meticulously designed to create a face that transcended mere physicality.

In that fleeting moment of connection, I felt a stirring within me, a flicker of something profound. Our eyes spoke volumes, conveying a silent understanding that surpassed words. As the world snapped back into focus, I couldn't help but wonder if this unexpected encounter held the promise of something extraordinary, something that could alter the course of our lives forever.

Bathump. Bathump. Bathump.

As I stood there, my heart pounded in my chest, the rhythmic thumping reverberating through my being. The sound seemed to grow louder with each passing second, drowning out the surrounding noises and creating a strange fuzziness that clouded my thoughts. It was as if my own emotions had turned into a storm, swirling and colliding within me, creating a whirlwind of sensations that left me both exhilarated and disoriented.

Amidst the chaos, a single thought broke through the haze, crystal clear in my mind. "Wow, he grew up so fine." The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning, momentarily overshadowing my weariness. Time had worked its magic, transforming the mischievous brat I once knew into a mesmerizing embodiment of masculine charm. The passing years had molded him into a vision that exceeded my wildest expectations.

But as our eyes met, the enchantment was momentarily shattered. Unlike the innocent eyes that had once radiated warmth and affection towards me, the purple gems that stared back at me now seemed devoid of their former sparkle. They held a depth that was difficult to unravel, veiling an unknown emotion that sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if a curtain had fallen, concealing the truth behind a facade of indifference.

A strong urge to approach the person he had become, to bridge the gap that time had carved between us, tugged at my heartstrings. Memories of our shared past, moments of laughter and camaraderie, flooded my mind, igniting a yearning to reconnect with the boy I had held dear. But then, a wave of remembrance washed over me, a sudden realization of something important that I had nearly forgotten.

I’m not Lilian John anymore, I am now Olivia Grace.