Mask Off at the Christmas Party

I drive a Rolls-Royce to the venue where my high school reunion is held.

When my former classmates ask me how much the Rolls-Royce costs, I tell them that it belongs to the company.

They begin telling everyone behind my back that I work as a company driver, and that I'm not living a good life at the moment.

Then again, the car does belong to the company. It's just that the company is mine.

Christmas break was just around the corner.

A high school group chat that had been dead for years suddenly became lively again. Messages flooded in by the hundreds within minutes.

Some people talked about how excited they were to reunite, while others sighed nostalgically about how beautiful those years had been.

The class president sent me a private message again, insisting that I attend no matter what.

I had ignored every invitation before, but this time, I agreed.

Because I wanted to see what they looked like once they failed and had nothing left.

…

"I just went to park, and you guys are not going to believe this. There's a Rolls-Royce in the lot."

Sebastian Cross, the loudest and most troublesome person in our class back then, burst into the private room and announced it at the top of his lungs.

Since we were the only customers in the restaurant today, everyone stopped their small talk at the same time and started guessing.

"Okay, who's the big shot hiding in our class? Zachary, don't tell me it's yours."

"Yeah, seriously. You were the genius in our class. You've got to be making banks by now."

"They're just material things," Zachary Grant said lightly with a smile. "Nothing worth mentioning."

That single sentence was enough for everyone to assume the car belonged to him.

"It's mine."

I spoke from where I was sitting in the corner.

The room went quiet for a beat, and everyone turned to look at me.

The looks on their faces were a mix of scrutiny, surprise, contempt, and doubt. It was almost identical to the way they used to look at me when they bullied me.

Our class had 45 people, and almost everyone showed up that day.

Good. Let them all be witnesses.

I looked at the faces that had trapped me in a nightmare throughout high school, then stood and walked over.

"You don't remember me, do you? I'm Brianna Shore," I said calmly. "Long time no see."

Finneas Dane, the class president, was the first to react. He grabbed my arm in a familiar way and pulled me into their circle.

"Brianna, you actually came. That's a first. Every time I tried to reach you before, I couldn't get through. We've been waiting forever.

"So, how much did you pay for that car? Just tell me, so I can stop deluding myself that I'd be able to afford it."

"I don't really know. It's the company's."

"Oh, it's a company car. You're so low-key that we thought you were a server here."

Melissa Cooper, who used to be the prettiest girl in class, looked at me dismissively. Her words set off a wave of laughter.

"You disappeared after graduation, and we never heard from you again. Seeing that you're doing well now makes me feel better."

Zachary, whose lie had just been exposed, looked at me with that same gentle expression he used to wear in high school.

But in reality, he was a wolf in sheep's clothing, a devil who'd drag someone into the pits of hell.

"Come on, Zachary," Melissa said, sliding closer and hooking her arm through mine like we were close. "Isn't this all because of you? If you hadn't helped her back then, would Brianna have ever scored that well in math?"

I dug my left hand into my thigh, hard, forcing myself not to tremble.

The others smiled and echoed her, as if they'd all suddenly forgotten what they had done to me in high school.

During lunch, it was like they were following a script, casually showing off how well their lives had turned out.

Finneas took a call and loudly mentioned a deal worth millions of dollars.

Melissa showed off a diamond ring that was clearly several carats large.

Vexana Jones made sure everyone noticed the luxury watch on her wrist.

Cassandra Carter talked about her wealthy husband, who doted on her.

Rebecca Jenkins sat there in black-rimmed glasses with the bookish air of a math teacher.

They weren't just showing off. They also kept finding ways to get my number.

After all, no one expected that the girl who used to be nothing, the girl with that blunt bob haircut back then, would show up driving a Rolls-Royce.