Familiar Strangers

Stories and Memories

Marissa's POV

So which story of mine should I tell him? I thought for a moment, then shrugged inwardly. Alright.

“I’ll tell you the one about how I almost went to juvie.”

The effect was immediate. His head snapped up, brows shooting high, and he nearly choked. I quickly grabbed a bottle of water and handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he muttered after a gulp.

Honestly, his reaction annoyed me a little. What I did wasn’t even that bad. My parents were clearly bluffing.

“Anyway…” I started, then paused. “When we were—” I corrected myself. “When I was in high school, I had enemies. Mostly girls. They were always on my neck, and for reasons that were never my fault.”

I leaned back slightly. “It was usually because their crush or their so-called boyfriend liked me. Or was friends with me. And please, I had good genes—thanks to my parents—so I was born pretty.” I waved a hand casually. “Add that to the fact that I was good at my studies. Actually, saying good is an understatement. I was a genius.”

I glanced at him, lips curling. “Still am, by the way.”

For a split second, I could’ve sworn his lips twitched upward—just a little—before his face settled back into that usual unreadable calm.

“So whether I wanted it or not, attention always followed me—good or bad,” I said. “You already know my parents are low-key. That’s why no one really knows I exist, and you won’t find anything online that they didn’t approve themselves.”

“The school they sent us to…” I paused. Some stories couldn’t be told without certain names surfacing. I took a quiet breath. “Sorry. I mean, I went to a school that wasn’t exactly for the top one percent, even though my parents could easily afford it. I guess they wanted a quiet life.”

I shifted slightly. “It was a good school, close to home, so most days I walked or rode my bike. Only on rare occasions did my dad or the driver drop me off.”

“I actually liked going on my own,” I added. “It gave me a sense of freedom. Not that I was caged or anything.”

I paused again and glanced down at my food. I wasn’t hungry. I’d already eaten fruits with Grandpa. After a few half-hearted spoonfuls, I covered the plate, took a drink of water, and continued.

“That was when the rumors started.”

“They said I was some needy charity case the school was helping.” I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Funny thing was, it was a high-class school, filled with young masters and young misses—but honestly, I doubted any of their families could hold a candle to mine.”

“I didn’t bother clearing the rumor,” I went on. “Deep down, they knew it wasn’t true.”

“Their attacks were petty. Stupid.” I scoffed. “At one point, they even claimed I was my father’s kept woman on an occasion where he dropped me off at school.”

I shook my head at the memory. “I knew exactly who started that rumor. I dealt with her personally—but that?”

I looked up with a faint smile. “That’s a story for another day.”

When I looked up, I noticed he was eating slowly. Tch. I wasn’t forcing him to listen anyway, so I continued.

“So the whole juvie thing?” I said. “It started because of this aunt-and-niece duo who seemed to hate my guts.”

“I could understand the foolish girl’s attitude,” I went on, rolling my eyes. “But the aunt? What exactly did I ever do to that woman for her to dislike me so much?”

“She was our biology teacher,” I said, tapping the table lightly. “And she never gave me my real score. Never. I never got an A in her class.”

I scoffed. “Imagine my report card. All A’s. Straight A’s. Then you get to biology and—boom—a B.”

I looked up at him again. “And she knew she couldn’t go lower than that. Everyone in that school knew I was a genius.” I tilted my head, unapologetic. “I even won an award for the school in biology.”

“So tell me,” I added with a small huff, “how does that make sense?”

“It got worse when she became our homeroom teacher,” I said, clicking my tongue. “That woman made it her life’s mission to pick on me for absolutely no reason.”

“During exams, she’d hand out the papers,” I continued, leaning back. “Everyone else got the normal questions, and then she’d give me a completely different set. Harder. Much harder.”

I mimicked her tone. “‘I’m training you since you’re just too good.’” I scoffed. “Pure sarcasm.”

“I let it slide,” I said with a shrug. “Why not? I could handle it. But during her class, I always slept.” I paused, then smirked. “Okay, sometimes I wasn’t actually sleeping. I just wanted to piss her off.”

“That was her cue,” I went on. “She’d call on me and ask questions. Not even from what she’d taught yet.” I smiled to myself. “And I’d answer. Correctly.”

I glanced at him. “Here’s the trick. I studied biology. The entire textbook. Other textbooks too. I knew everything I needed to know.”

“So anytime she thought I was about to slip,” I said, snapping my fingers lightly, “I fired right back.”

“Oh, she hated that,” I added, laughing softly. “One day she even slipped up, and I corrected her.”

I let out a short laugh, the memory lighting me up. “We had a full-on staring contest in class. I was smiling like this,” I grinned, “and she was absolutely fuming.”

“Ah,” I sighed. “Those were good days.”

I took a breath and continued. “So, like I said, she was my homeroom teacher, right?” I asked.

He nodded.

I smiled, a little impressed. He was actually listening.