Chapter 02

Nathalia

The next day, Fabio's friends set a trap for me. When I opened the classroom door, a bucket of mud dumped onto my head — leaving me filthy and sporting a lump on my forehead.

I looked over at Fabio, who was right there, laughing at my misery with his friends.

I didn't let it slide.

I scooped up a handful of mud from the floor and hurled it at them.

His friends dodged, but Fabio had a broken leg. He took all of it straight to the face.

Everyone went silent. Fabio looked horrified.

Maybe he thought his sweet little friend wouldn't fight back. But I was done being humiliated and doing nothing about it.

"Nathalia! How dare you? I'm injured! I'm calling the principal to punish you!"

I walked up to him and slapped him across the face with a mud-covered hand, smearing him even more.

"Go ahead! Call the principal, and I'll tell everyone exactly why you fell off that ladder and broke your leg!"

"Tell them what? That I was trying to peep at your sister? Isn't that what you told your dad? Your sister's way better than you, Nathalia! Skinny, gorgeous, and smart. Who here wouldn't want a peek at that body?"

His friends immediately nodded along, laughing.

I froze. Fabio knew exactly how much it destroyed me to be compared to my sister.

He knew my parents had compared us my entire life — and that in the eyes of my whole family, I was the lesser one.

He was the only person I'd ever trusted enough to tell how that made me feel. He'd once promised he'd never do the same.

I turned around without a word and went home.

Once again, my parents didn't care. They just complained about the mess on my clothes.

If it had been Ruby getting bullied, I was sure they would've stormed the principal's office.

But with me, they didn't even notice I was being bullied. Or maybe they noticed and just chose not to get involved.

I showered again and went to bed early.

In a few days, I'd graduate. And then came Christmas.

I was finally escaping the high school bullying, but I'd have to face an even bigger challenge — my relatives.

Every Christmas, my family gathered at my aunt's house, and there, all I ever heard were criticisms.

Now that I'd decided to study literature in college, I'd probably be torn apart for not following in the footsteps of my brilliant sister.

"Ruby scored first place on the college entrance exams."

"Ruby's the top student in her math program, and you pick a career that doesn't even pay."

"Ruby's so beautiful and smart she'll marry someone important any day now."

"Nathalia, why can't you be more like your sister and stop being such a disappointment to your parents?"

Just imagining all the criticism headed my way made me want to disappear off the face of the earth.

I unlocked my phone and started scrolling through Instagram. Nothing but photos of girls with perfect bodies, racking up thousands of likes and compliments.

I went to the mirror, took a photo of myself in my nightgown, and posted it with the caption:

"Plus-size girls are beautiful too, you idiots! Why are only skinny girls allowed to be loved?"

It was a cry from the bottom of my heart.

I didn't consider myself lesser than those girls just because I was curvy.

But I knew the hate would come. I was used to it by now.

A notification popped up:

"@talentscout commented on your photo"

I was surprised — I hadn't expected a comment that fast. My profile wasn't even popular.

My first thought was that the flood of hate had already started.

Probably some troll leaving something nasty.

I decided to ignore it and went back to bed.

I tossed and turned for hours, my mind racing.

I couldn't stop asking myself why life had to be so unfair.

Why could someone be adored just for being thin? What about personality? What about substance?

And why did I have a flawless sister whose only purpose seemed to be making me feel even more humiliated?

Eventually I gave up on sleep and grabbed my phone again.

There they were — the haters in my comment section.

"Who do you think you are, fatso!"

"Even if you lost weight, nobody would love you."

"Stop envying other girls and shut your mouth!"

I scrolled past the hateful comments until I landed on that first one.

"@talentscout: Our agency values curvy girls like you. I sent you a DM with all the details."

I was skeptical. It was pretty random.

I opened my messages, and there it was.

"Would you like to travel to England with all expenses paid and become a successful plus-size model? We saw your profile and you're exactly what we're looking for. Reply to this message and don't miss the opportunity to become famous and very rich."

I was wary, but curiosity won out.

I replied with a quick "Hi" and got an immediate response.

The person on the other end started sending me photos of other curvy girls who'd gone to England to work with them.

They were all plus-size like me, wearing designer clothes and posing next to sports cars.

It looked like a dream.

Better yet, it looked like the perfect chance to escape my family's relentless criticism — and prove to Fabio and everyone who'd bullied me that I was successful and they were nothing but losers.

"@nathalia: I'm interested in your offer. How do I get hired?"

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