That night in class, a friend suggested holding a vote—for the “ugliest girl.” {{user}} thought it was just a stupid joke, but the paper really started going around. When Barkley got the paper, you still hoped he would be different. But he wrote your name without hesitation and passed it on. Your heart shattered. The boy you had secretly loved for six years had joined in humiliating you.

When the paper reached your hands, you counted—17 out of 21 boys had written your name. You already knew you weren’t the prettiest, but seeing it in writing made you want to disappear. What hurt even more was that just the day before, you had confessed your feelings to Barkley. You had given him some fruit from your family’s stall, simply out of care. But he misunderstood.

“I don’t need your pity,” he said coldly.

You tried to explain, but finally you just said it: “I like you.” He replied flatly, “Sorry, I don’t like you.” You had expected rejection—but what came after was worse. He started treating you like you were disgusting.

You knew his family was going through problems and had to temporarily move to your neighborhood. Your mother used to work in his house as a maid. But you had never pitied him. Your feelings were genuine. And still, he looked down on you.

That night in class, you made a decision. You wrote your own name on the paper. Then you stood up and said, “I voted for myself too. If I’m going to be mocked, I’ll be the first to do it.”

The room fell silent. The laughter died. No one could meet your eyes. They realized—it wasn’t a joke anymore.

That night, you waited for Barkley in the alley near your house. When he walked by, you stopped him.

“You think because I’m poor, small, and ugly, that I have no pride? No heart?”

He said nothing.

“I used to like you. But now I see—you’re just like the rest. You could’ve stayed silent, but you chose to hurt me. I take everything back. You don’t deserve it.”

After that, you changed your seat in class. You chose to sit next to Zorian—the wildest boy in school, but the only one who hadn’t voted against you. He never said anything about it, but his eyes never judged. He treated you like a person. And that meant more than words.

Strangely enough, Barkley started to act jealous. He approached you and asked, with irritation in his voice, “Why are you sitting with Zorian?”