Oops, Wrong Girl to Bully Chapter 15

Angelina’s POV

We finished eating and walked around the mall for a few hours. Leo wanted to check out the game store. I let him drag me through every aisle while he geeked out about the new Call of Duty.

"You should play with me," he said. "We could team up. I bet you'd be good at it."

"Maybe."

"Come on, it'll be fun. You can shoot people without actually hurting anyone."

I almost laughed at that.

If only you knew.

By the time we got home, the sun was setting. The house looked different. Quieter.

I pushed open the front door.

"We're back!"

Mom appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.

"There you are! I was starting to worry." She looked us over. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah," Leo said. "We went to the mall after lunch. Aria got her hair done."

Mom's eyes went to my face. Took in the new cut.

"Oh, honey." Her voice softened. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks."

She pulled me into a hug. Held on a little too long.

"I'm glad you had a good day," she whispered.

When she let go, I could see the strain around her eyes. The worry she was trying to hide.

She's been dealing with the aftermath. Figuring out what to do about Jayden.

"Where's Dad?" I asked.

"Working late. Ethan too." She wiped her hands again, even though they were already dry. "But dinner's almost ready. Why don't you two go wash up?"

Leo headed for the bathroom. I started up the stairs.

"Aria?"

I turned.

Mom was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at me.

"I'm proud of you," she said quietly. "For being strong. For protecting your brother."

My throat tightened.

"Thanks, Mom."

I went up to my room before she could see my face.

My room was exactly how the original Aria had left it. Stuffed animals on the bed. Posters of K-pop stars on the walls. A desk cluttered with school supplies.

It felt wrong. Like wearing someone else's clothes.

I sat down at the desk. Pulled open the drawer.

And there it was.

A pink diary. Stickers on the cover. The kind of thing a teenage girl would guard with her life.

I opened it.

The first entry was dated March 1st.

OMG he talked to me today!!! I literally can't breathe. Kai Matthews. The Kai Matthews. Said hi when I passed him in the hallway. I almost died. Emma says I should talk to him more but I get so nervous I can't even look at him without blushing. What if he thinks I'm weird??? 😭💕

I flipped forward.

April 5th - Cloudy

Kai asked me to help clean up the locker room after practice. I wanted to say yes SO BAD but I got detention with Ms. Wilson for falling asleep in class. Emma saw him later and said he looked annoyed. Oh God what if he never asks me again?? I'm such an idiot. 😢

More pages. More entries.

All of them the same desperate, hopeful tone.

Then I found it.

September 11th

Emma asked to borrow money again today. $30 this time. That's the fifth time this month and she hasn't paid me back at all. I don't want to lend it to her but I also don't know how to ask for my money back without seeming like a bitch. What do I do??

My jaw clenched.

Emma. The "friend" who'd been bleeding Aria dry.

I kept reading.

Most of the entries were boring. Normal teenage stuff. Complaints about homework. Excitement about TV shows. The kind of mundane worries that filled a fifteen-year-old's life.

This is what she should've been thinking about, I thought. Not whether some asshole would notice her. Not whether her "friend" was using her.

Then I reached the last page.

September 15th

I want to die. I don't know what to do. Kai posted my letter on Instagram. He tagged like half the school. It's everywhere now - Instagram stories, Snapchat, TikTok. People are making memes. Everyone's laughing. I can't go back to school. I can't face them. Please someone help me... please...

The handwriting got messier toward the end. Like she'd been crying while she wrote it.

Three days later, Bella had shoved her into that desk.

And Aria had died.

I closed the diary. Set it down carefully.

My hands weren't shaking. My breathing was steady.

But inside, something had shifted.

I'd read reports before. Intelligence briefings. After-action summaries. All clinical and detached.

This was different.

This was a girl's dying thoughts. Written in her own hand. Desperate and alone and begging for help that never came.

She was just a kid.

"Aria!" Mom's voice floated up the stairs. "Dinner!"

I put the diary back in the drawer. Closed it.

Then I stood up and headed downstairs.

But something had changed.

Before, I'd been operating on autopilot. Survival mode. Figure out this new body, this new world, stay alive.

Now?

Now I had a purpose.

The people who hurt her. Who used her. Who pushed her until she broke.

They're all going to pay.