His Chubby Luna’s Untouchable Glow-Up Chapter 02

His Chubby Luna’s Untouchable Glow-Up Chapter 02

I skipped the Northcrest Pack interview site and headed straight for Southbridge University’s instead.

When I entered with my ridiculous hair, the interviewers visibly froze.

I took a deep breath, swallowed my humiliation, and focused on answering their questions.

Maybe it was my composure, or perhaps my answers. Their gazes finally left my hair, and they began nodding with approval.

“Rachel Vale, we look forward to seeing you at Southbridge University.”

When I left the room, my palms were drenched in sweat, but I heard my wolf cry out in delight.

[You did it! We’re amazing. We can make it without him, can’t we?] she soothed me gently.

Going to Northcrest University with Vincent had once been the reason I pushed myself so hard.

But I had made my decision. He would have no place in any plan I made from now on.

To celebrate, our families had dinner at Alpha Cole’s house that evening.

Mom and Luna Claire spoke quietly, then left the table for the bedroom.

Vincent sat across from me, distracted. “How did the interview go?”

I lowered my eyes. “Fine. The interviewers said they expected to see me on campus.”

His expression changed instantly, and he set down his fork. “Your grades can get you into Northcrest without this spot. Why compete for it? That’s selfish.”

Selfish?

The accusation was absurd. I gave a bitter smile. “You cut my hair like this, and you’re still worried I’ll score higher than Daphne?”

“What does one have to do with the other?” Vincent shot back. “Why are you still mad, Rachel? Daphne’s other choice in the dare was asking a random guy for his number. I was protecting her.”

“She’s not like you. She’s beautiful. What if some creep had gone after her?”

She was not like me.

After a moment, I merely said, “I understand. I’m not angry.”

Just then, Mom and Luna Claire returned, both with reddened eyes.

I rose to leave with Mom.

“Wait!” Vincent grabbed my wrist. “What happened? What were they talking about in there?”

He had not touched me in a long time.

This time, after a brief pause, I wrenched my hand free.

“Nothing.” I looked into his uneasy eyes. “They were probably worried about our future.”

What future? We didn’t have one anymore.

…

At school the next day, everyone stared at my mangled hair.

“Look, the pig got a new haircut!”

“The fat girl is so fashionable. She got herself a bad perm!”

The boys burst out laughing, and Vincent stood among them with a smirk on his lips.

Pain stung my heart. I was nowhere near as strong as I had imagined, but I looked away, ignored them, and quietly took my seat.

In class, Ms. Harris opened nominations for class president. I had spent an entire week preparing.

The snickers and insults never stopped as I walked to the front with my ruined hair.

My hands trembled, but I lifted my head and delivered my campaign speech smoothly without looking at my notes.

When I bowed, Ms. Harris applauded first, and the girls gradually joined her.

Just as I began to relax, Daphne suddenly stood and walked forward.

She wore a short skirt, and her long hair flowed behind her, a sharp contrast to my humiliation.

Daphne read haltingly from her script, then giggled coyly whenever she lost her place.

The boys laughed and cheered, eagerly playing along.

In the end, Daphne and I tied.

Ms. Harris looked at Vincent. “Where is your ballot? You can’t abstain. Cast the deciding vote.”

Every eye in the classroom turned toward the corner.

Vincent pressed his lips together and stood. Tall and lean, with his uniform jacket hanging open, he walked slowly toward the front as sunlight outlined his back.

He was still as handsome as he had been when we were children, still wearing the face I had once known better than my own.

As I watched him, a small, humiliating hope took root inside me.

What if?

What if he remembered pushing a tearful little me toward the campaign podium, buying candy to bribe our classmates, then shouting, “My Rachel is number one!” when I won?

What if he remembered that being class president was the one thing that made me feel I had value?

I watched him hand his ballot to Ms. Harris.

She unfolded it, glanced down, and announced, “Daphne, twenty-five votes. Rachel, twenty-four.”

“Your new class president is Daphne.”

Vincent returned to his seat without looking at me once.

I bowed my head as heavy tears splashed onto my textbook.

Ten years.

I had served as class president for almost ten years, from needing his candy bribes to earning everyone’s trust through my own ability.

More than anyone, he knew what that position meant to a fat girl who lived under constant scrutiny. It was the fragile foundation of my hard-won confidence.

Yet he had ripped even that away without hesitation.

For Daphne.

The little boy who had bought candy to win me votes truly had died somewhere in our memories.

After school, I went to Daphne to hand over the class records.

She sat at her desk, unable to hide her smugness.

“There isn’t much to hand over.” She studied herself leisurely in a compact mirror without glancing at me. “Vincent said I’d do great and told me to run.”

“I figured if even you could handle the job, it couldn’t be difficult.”

I gathered my things and turned away.

“Rachel!”

Vincent caught up and blocked me at the school gates.