Chapter Two

Julia surfaced from a deep sleep with a slow and peaceful stretch of her limbs. For a few blissful seconds, her mind was entirely blank, free from the crushing anxieties of the previous day and the terrifying reality of her potentially ruined academic future. She rolled onto her side and pulled her knees upward, burying her face into the soft fabric of her pillow while she let out a quiet sigh. She extended her right arm to push the blankets away from her torso, curling her fingers into the mattress to push herself up. A sudden and piercing pain shot through her hand as several sharp points dug viciously into her own skin. She gasped and yanked her arm back, her eyes snapping open as the physical shock shattered the comforting illusion of her morning routine.

The teenager stared down at her trembling fingers, her heart sinking directly into her stomach as she observed the incredibly long, neon pink acrylic nails attached to her hands. The agonizing memories of her salon trip the previous day crashed down upon her all at once, erasing any hope that the makeover had been nothing more than a twisted nightmare. She raised a cautious hand to her face, wincing as her sharp artificial fingertips brushed against her own cheeks. She felt the thick layers of cosmetic foundation still caked across her skin, and her eyelids felt weighed down by the massive false lashes glued to her lash line. She dragged her thumb downward and encountered the swollen, throbbing mass of her chemically enhanced lips, the sticky gloss catching on her skin and reminding her just how dramatically her tomboy identity had been vandalized.

She sat up fully and brought her knees to her chest, trying to figure out how she was going to survive the day ahead. She had to walk into the high school and present this obnoxious, hyper-feminine aesthetic to her teachers and peers, actively claiming that she wanted to look like a brainless stereotype. The magnitude of the humiliation made her feel sick to her stomach. She listened to the quiet sounds of the house, noting the faint hum of the refrigerator downstairs, when the front doorbell chimed, shattering the silence.

Julia stiffened as she thought about who could be at the door. Nobody ever visited their house this early in the morning. She heard the faint squeak of the front door opening, followed immediately by the warm and welcoming tone of her mother greeting the unexpected guest. Sandra spoke with a cheerful enthusiasm that indicated she was talking to someone she perceived as polite and respectable. A deep, masculine voice responded to her mother, the smooth cadence dripping with a manufactured charm that made Julia’s blood run cold. She recognized the voice instantly. Enzo had invaded her home once again, and the sound of his footsteps moving up the wooden staircase sent a fresh wave of panic coursing through her veins.

The bedroom door clicked open, and Sandra stepped into the room with a delighted smile spread across her face. Enzo walked in right behind her, carrying a long black garment bag tucked securely under his arm. He wore a navy blue athletic jacket and dark jeans, looking every bit the part of the popular, well-adjusted varsity athlete that those who didn’t truly know him believed him to be.

“Julia, you didn’t tell me you had a friend coming over before school,” Sandra said, clasping her hands together as she beamed at the large teenager standing beside her. “Enzo is such a polite young man. You don’t bring enough of your classmates around the house, and you should definitely introduce me to more of your friends.”

“Thank you so much for having me, Mrs. Lopez,” Enzo replied, flashing a brilliant smile at the older woman. “Julia and I have a big project we need to coordinate before first period, and I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.” He flashed Julia an arrogant wink.

“Well, I will leave you two to it, but don’t take too long, or you are both going to miss the bus. It was nice to meet you, Enzo,” Sandra instructed, offering one last affectionate look toward her daughter before she stepped backward out of the room and pulled the door shut behind her.

The instant the latch clicked into place, the charming facade vanished completely from Enzo’s face. His polite smile contorted into a malicious grin as he turned his attention toward the trembling trans girl sitting on the bed. He tossed the garment bag casually onto the desk chair and took a slow step forward, looking Julia up and down with an expression of intense satisfaction.

“What are you doing in my house?” Julia demanded, her voice shaking slightly as she gripped the edges of her comforter with her artificial nails. “You shouldn’t be here, Enzo.”

“I just couldn’t let you get ready for your big coming-out party alone,” Enzo stated, crossing his arms over his chest as he stopped at the foot of her mattress. “A girl needs a little bit of support on a day as important as this.”

“I already came out months ago,” Julia shot back, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with her tormentor. “Everyone already knows who I am, and I don’t need a party.”

“Not like this,” the athlete corrected, his voice dropping to a low and patronizing register. “You came out as some boring sissy tomboy who thinks real women wear baggy jeans and a hoodie. Today is the day you actually show the world what a real girl looks like. And we have some specific tasks you need to complete today if you want to keep our little secret hidden.”

“I don’t have time for your tasks, Enzo,” Julia argued, shifting her legs over the edge of the bed and planting her feet on the carpet. “I need to shower, I need to figure out how to manage this ridiculous makeup, and I’m going to be late for school if you don’t get out of my room right now.”

“You have all the time in the world, Julia,” Enzo warned, his grin fading into a look of absolute authority. “Because if you don’t have time for me, I can just take a quick drive over to the principal’s office right now. I have a very interesting video on my phone that I know the administration would love to see before the morning bell rings. You’ll find plenty of time for reflection behind bars, don’t you think?”

Julia clamped her mouth shut, her defiance crumbling instantly at the mention of the cheating footage. She thought about her friends whose futures relied entirely on her ability to keep Enzo satisfied. She swallowed her pride and slumped her shoulders, unable to fight a battle where she held none of the leverage.

“Fine,” Julia surrendered, her voice barely rising above a whisper. “What are the tasks?”

Enzo smiled again, clearly enjoying the total submission of the school’s top academic star. He turned away from the bed and walked over to the desk, picking up the long garment bag he had brought with him. He unzipped the dark fabric with a swift motion and pulled out a wooden hanger, lifting the hidden item into the air before placing the hook over the top edge of her closet door.

Julia stared in abject horror at the garment hanging in her room. It was a long, outrageously feminine ball gown constructed from endless layers of bright pink tulle and silk. The bodice was a tight, structured corset completely covered in sparkling rhinestones, designed to violently compress the waist and push the chest upward. The skirt flared out dramatically from the hips, creating a wide, bell-shaped silhouette that looked like it belonged in a Disney story rather than a public high school. It was the most embarrassing, stereotypically feminine piece of clothing she had ever laid eyes on.

“This is your school uniform for today,” Enzo announced, gesturing toward the ridiculous gown with a grand sweep of his hand.

“You can’t be serious,” Julia gasped, shaking her head as she stood up from the mattress. “I can’t wear that. I won’t be able to show my face at school ever again. It isn’t even functional clothing, Enzo.”

“That is exactly the point,” the bully replied, stepping closer to her and looking down at her terrified face. “You wanted to be a girl, so you are going to dress like a princess. It is non-negotiable.”

“Please, just let me wear my normal clothes,” Julia pleaded, her feminist ideals screaming at her to reject the degrading costume. “I will do whatever tasks you want, but I can’t walk down the hallway looking like a Disney princess.”

“I’m sorry. Did you think you had much of a choice here?” Enzo asked rhetorically, his eyes narrowing as he issued his final command. “Strip.”

Julia froze as she began to panic. She crossed her arms over her white t-shirt, unwilling to undress in front of the man who was actively destroying her life. She looked toward the attached bathroom, desperate to find a tiny shred of dignity within this awful situation.

“If I have to wear it, just give me a minute of privacy so I can change in the bathroom,” Julia requested, her voice trembling as she took a cautious step backward.

“Not so fast,” Enzo countered, reaching out and wrapping his large hand firmly around her wrist to stop her retreat. “That dress is pretty complicated. You’re gonna need a second pair of hands to help you into it, and I’m more than happy to help.”

Julia stared up at the bully in helpless terror, realizing she was completely trapped. She had no way out of her humiliation, no arguments left to make, and absolutely no way to stop him from breaking down every single boundary she had ever established. Enzo tightened his grip on her wrist, pulling her gently but firmly back toward the center of the room.

❖

Julia pushed open the front double doors of the high school and stepped into the main corridor with a rushed, uncoordinated stumble. The warning bell had rung over fifteen minutes ago, and the typically crowded hallway was now completely deserted, leaving her alone with the irritating noise of her own movements. Every step she took echoed loudly against the linoleum floor as the impossibly tall stiletto heels forced her feet into an agonizing arch. She grabbed large handfuls of the voluminous pink material, trying to lift the skirt high enough to prevent herself from tripping over the excessive fabric. Her new acrylic nails dug uncomfortably into her palms as she struggled to maintain her grip on the slippery fabric.

The tight, rhinestone-encrusted corset squeezed her torso relentlessly, restricting her breathing and pushing her chest upward, showing enough cleavage to make her budding B-cup breasts look double their actual size. Her bright, bleached blonde hair bounced around her shoulders in unnatural waves that felt entirely alien around her face. The thick layers of cosmetic foundation and dark eyeliner made her face feel like a stiff, painted mask. Her swollen lips felt too large for her face beneath a thick coat of sticky bubblegum pink gloss, drawing immediate attention to her mouth. The long false lashes glued to her eyelids fluttered with every blink, obstructing her peripheral vision and making her eyes look wide and vacant. She looked exactly like a ridiculous caricature of a superficial prom queen, and she was currently parading this humiliating aesthetic through an academic institution. She was mortified.

She continued her unstable trek down the empty corridor. The large volume of the dress made navigating past the metal lockers a frustrating chore. She had to turn her body sideways just to fit through the narrower sections near the water fountains. She had never been late a day in her life. Her impeccable attendance record was a cornerstone of her college applications, and she was currently destroying it. Enzo had planned her morning with cruel intent, ensuring the complicated dressing process took long enough to make her miss her usual bus. She had to endure a painfully awkward taxi ride to the campus, fielding strange, judgmental looks from the driver the entire way. She remembered how the driver had smirked at her through the rearview mirror. He had clearly assumed she was doing a walk of shame from a costume party rather than actually attending the school.

A wooden door swung open a few yards ahead of her. Vice Principal Harrison stepped out into the corridor holding a stack of folders. He was a strict administrator who had always praised Julia for her exceptional dedication to her studies and her active involvement in the after-school clubs. He turned his head toward the noise of her footsteps and stopped completely in his tracks. His eyes widened in bewilderment as he took in the bizarre sight of his star student.

“Julia?” the older man asked, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses in disbelief. “Wha- What happened to you? Are you okay?”

Julia felt a hot flush of deep embarrassment crawl up her neck and sting her cheeks. She desperately wanted to tell the administrator the truth. She wanted to break down in tears and beg for his help to stop Enzo and his cruel blackmail scheme. However, telling him the truth would also mean explaining how she was cheating the system and actively committing a felony. She knew she couldn’t let that happen. If she just kept Enzo happy enough, he would soon grow bored of her. She had to play the part perfectly, just as her tormentor had instructed.

“I’m perfectly fine, Mr. Harrison,” Julia lied, forcing her voice to sound steady and confident despite the humiliation gripping her chest. “I just decided I wanted to try some things out before I graduate. I’m trying out some new things with my transition, and I really love this new look. I want to express my femininity, and this dress makes me feel beautiful.”

The older man stared at her for a long, agonizing moment. He looked at her plump lips and the ridiculous outfit she wore before shaking his head with a sense of disappointment.

“It doesn’t really suit you, Julia,” he told the trans girl. “You’ve always been such a serious, focused young woman. You’re in the running for valedictorian, and you usually present yourself with such dignity. Now you show up to school late, dressed like this. It’s very concerning behavior, dear.”

“I’m just exploring who I really am,” Julia replied, fighting the urge to look down at the floor. “I can still find the time to study. I want to have some fun and be a normal girl, you know.”

“Well, being a normal girl doesn’t excuse you from the school attendance policy,” the administrator countered sharply, his patience clearly wearing thin. “You’re already twenty minutes late for Gym class. I suggest you get to the gymnasium before Coach Miller marks you absent for the entire day. We’ll be having a much longer discussion about your academic priorities later this week.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll go right now,” Julia promised, offering a tight, polite nod.

Julia watched the man turn his back and walk toward the main office. She let out a shaky breath and turned toward the athletic wing of the building. She knew the worst part of her morning was still waiting for her. None of the students had seen her yet, and when they did, she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to live this down.

❖

The senior girls ran passing drills on the far side of the basketball court while the boys ran half-court scrimmages on the opposite end. Coach Miller stood near the center line with a whistle pressed firmly between his teeth. He watched his gym students with a critical eye, barking orders and constantly correcting their postures. The entire room was loud and chaotic, completely focused on the intense athletic activities required for the morning period.

Julia pushed the metal bar of the double doors and stumbled into the room. The thick pink skirt of her ball gown caught momentarily in the doorframe, forcing her to yank the fabric free. The sudden, disruptive rustle of the skirt instantly drew the attention of the students nearest to the entrance. A boy paused mid-dribble, allowing his basketball to bounce away across the court as he stared at the ridiculous spectacle. The silence spread like a virus across the hardwood floor. Within seconds, the entire class ceased their athletic drills, leaving the gymnasium dead quiet. Dozens of eyes locked onto the sparkly pink gown, the thickly applied makeup, and the swollen, glossy lips of the valedictorian candidate. A humored snicker was heard from the boys’ end of the court.

Coach Miller lowered his whistle and narrowed his eyes. He marched across the court toward the entrance, his face contorting into a mask of total bewilderment. He was a traditional, old-school instructor who rarely tolerated nonsense in his classes, but he also recognized the delicate nature of dealing with transgender students in the current administrative climate. He stopped a few feet away from Julia, looking her up and down with genuine confusion.

“What’re you doing coming in here into my class dressed like that?” the coach asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re extremely late, Julia, and you aren’t wearing your gym kit. What the hell are you wearing?”

“I’m sorry I’m late, Coach,” Julia lied, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with the man as her heart sank with intense humiliation. “I missed the bus and had to find my own way to school.”

“But what’s with the Cinderella outfit?” the man replied, gesturing vaguely toward the massive skirt with his clipboard. “Listen, I don’t care about how you identify or what you choose to wear to school, but you can’t play sports in a ball gown.”

“I understand, Coach,” Julia agreed, desperately wanting to escape the intense stares of her classmates. “I’ll go straight into the locker room and change.”

“Make it quick. You’ve already wasted enough time this morning,” the older man warned, pointing a stern finger toward the changing facilities. “Get moving.”

Julia nodded obediently and turned away from the instructor. She walked briskly toward the adjacent locker room, the sharp points of her stiletto heels striking the floorboards with a loud and embarrassing cadence as her classmates stared on in amusement and shock. She pushed through the swinging metal door and stepped into the designated changing area. The tiled room was empty. She walked over to the nearest row of metal lockers and rested her forehead against the cool steel surface, taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart. She just needed to slip into her traditional gym shorts and t-shirt so she could salvage the rest of the period.

She reached both hands behind her back to locate the hidden zipper of her pink ball gown. Her long acrylic nails instantly complicated the simple task. The artificial plastic tips slid uselessly over the fabric, preventing her from securing a proper grip on the tiny metal tab. She twisted her torso and stretched her arms further upward, finally managing to pinch the pull between her thumb and index finger. She tugged downward with a forceful yank. The zipper somehow refused to budge.

Julia frowned and adjusted her grip. She pulled again with far more aggression, but the tab remained completely immobilized at the very top of the track. She let go of the zipper and ran her fingertips over the closure, searching for a stray thread or a snag in the material. Her long nails tapped against a solid, metallic lump resting directly at the base of her neck.

A sudden wave of dread crashed into her stomach. She spun around and strained her neck to look over her shoulder into the large wall mirror. She brushed her perfect blonde curls aside and squinted her eyes to get a clearer view of her own back. A small gold padlock was securely threaded through the hole in the zipper pull, attaching it permanently to the metal catch at the top of the dress. The zipper was locked in place.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Julia whispered, her voice cracking as the horrifying reality of her situation settled into her mind.

That son of a fucking bitch, the trans girl thought to herself. Enzo must have slipped the padlock into place while he was helping her zip up the dress in her bedroom. He had secured the lock without her noticing, and the overwhelming humiliation of the situation had dawned on her. The jock had intentionally trapped her inside the costume.

She abandoned the zipper and grabbed the top edge of the sparkling corset with both hands. She pulled upward with all her strength, desperately trying to shimmy the structured bodice over her chest and shoulders so she could just step out of the petticoated skirt. The garment refused to move a single inch. The tight corseting dug painfully into her ribs, and the stiff fabric scratched against her arms as she struggled. The dress was built specifically for her body, making it impossible to remove without first lowering the zipper. She let go of the neckline and gasped for air. This was all becoming too much.

The new blonde stared at her reflection in the glass, watching her swollen pink lips part in total defeat. She could not get the dress off. How the hell could she face the coach wearing this thing?

She looked down at her feet. She figured she could at least remove the stilettos and put on her usual sneakers. Playing basketball in a ridiculous gown would be incredibly embarrassing, but attempting it in high heels was an actual safety hazard. She bent forward at the waist, letting out a strained grunt as the rigid corset compressed her stomach and restricted her movement. She reached her hands down toward her right ankle, searching blindly for the delicate metal buckle securing the thin strap.

Her artificial fingertips brushed against the buckle but immediately encountered a cold, metallic object. She pulled her leg upward and rested her foot on the wooden locker room bench so she could inspect the shoe closely. A tiny gold padlock was securely fastened through the holes of the ankle strap. The buckle was locked permanently closed.

Julia dropped her foot back to the floor and quickly checked the left shoe. She found another identical padlock securing the second ankle strap in place. She stood up straight and stared blankly at the rows of metal lockers. Enzo had outsmarted her. He had locked the shoes directly to her feet, ensuring she couldn’t simply take them off when the humiliation became too much to handle. She was trapped inside the aesthetic he had built for her.

She considered staying in the locker room and hiding for the rest of the morning period. The idea of sitting on the wooden bench and avoiding the basketball court was incredibly tempting. However, she instantly remembered the strict set of rules Enzo had delivered that morning. He specifically demanded that she attend and complete all of her classes without skipping any of them. If she stayed hidden in the locker room, he would consider it a failure. He would send the cheating video to the administration, and she would be expelled before the end of the day.

The madeover blonde closed her eyes and let out a defeated sigh. She had no other option left. She turned away from the lockers and walked slowly toward the swinging door, knowing she had to go back out there and face the ultimate humiliation on the basketball court. This was a living nightmare.

❖

The sharp click-clacking of tall stiletto heels echoed aggressively across the varnished hardwood of the gymnasium. Julia walked timidly back onto the basketball court with her head bowed in defeat. The noise of bouncing balls and shouting teenagers completely died down for a second time as the student body noticed her return from the locker room. The senior girls stopped their passing drills instantly, and the boys ceased their scrimmage to stare at the bizarre spectacle of the blonde girl inside her pink outfit. Coach Miller stood near the center line with his hands firmly planted on his hips, his expression shifting rapidly from general confusion to outright anger. He looked pissed as he watched the teenager approach him in the exact same overindulgent ball gown he had just ordered her to remove.

“Why are you still dressed like that?” the coach demanded, his frustrated voice carrying easily through the completely silent room. “I gave you an order to get back there and change, Julia.”

Julia felt another wave of humiliation wash over her face, turning her cheeks as pink as her jeweled corset. She could feel the judgmental stares of every single classmate burning into her skin as she desperately struggled to formulate a believable lie that wouldn’t expose Enzo’s cruel padlock trap.

“I forgot my gym kit at home, Coach,” she lied, her voice trembling slightly as she looked down at the floorboards to avoid making eye contact with the angry instructor. “I don’t have anything else to wear for class today.”

“Well, you obviously can’t participate in a gym class wearing a prom dress,” the man stated, letting out a loud sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck in absolute annoyance. “Just go sit on the bleachers until the period is over. I’ll excuse you for the day.”

A sudden rush of immense relief flooded through Julia’s chest. She could just sit quietly on the wooden benches and avoid the agonizing embarrassment of trying to play a high-impact sport while wearing this horrifying getup. She took a hopeful step toward the seating area before a terrifying thought gnawed viciously at her mind. Enzo had given her very specific instructions before he left her bedroom that morning. He told her she had to actively participate in every single class without exception. Sitting on the bench and watching the others play simply wouldn’t satisfy his sadistic requirements, and the blonde was suddenly scared the bully would send the blackmail video to the principal if she failed to comply.

“I can’t just sit out, sir,” Julia blurted out, turning back to face the bewildered instructor. “I’m perfectly fine playing with the class in my current outfit.”

“You can’t be serious,” the coach snickered, shaking his head in absolute disbelief as he pointed a finger down at her pointed shoes. “You’re wearing what? Six-inch heels? Not to mention a corset.”

Julia nodded slowly, forcing herself to maintain a serious expression despite the overwhelming urge to cry.

“I really want to play today,” she insisted, swallowing the massive lump of pride lodged deep within her throat. “I promise I won’t get hurt.”

Coach Miller stared at her for several seconds, clearly confused by her stubborn behavior. He had never encountered a situation quite like this in his entire teaching career, and he obviously didn’t know how to handle a trans student actively demanding to play a sport while dressed for a formal dance. He eventually threw his hands up into the air in a gesture of total surrender. On the one hand, he knew it was impractical to let Julia play dressed like this, but he didn’t want to be accused of excluding a trans person expressing herself.

“Fine,” the coach relented, gesturing toward the far side of the gymnasium with his plastic clipboard. “Go join the girls on the other end of the court, and just don’t get too close to the other girls. I don’t want them tripping over you.”

Julia froze completely in her tracks. She bit her lower lip, absolutely dreading the next set of words she was forced to speak. Enzo had mandated exactly what she needed to say in this specific scenario, and the required script was designed to obliterate her progressive identity. She took a deep breath, preparing to humiliate herself further.

“Is there a problem now?” Coach Miller asked, his patience visibly wearing thin as the rest of the class continued to watch the exchange.

“Well, Coach, since I was genetically born a boy, I believe I should be required to play basketball with the males,” Julia recited, her voice carrying across the quiet gym for everyone to hear. “It’s only fair.” There was a collective gasp at the feminist valedictorian candidate’s words.

The Gym teacher looked completely taken aback by the statement. His eyes widened as he tried to process the sudden rejection of her own gender identity. “You don’t need to worry about that at all, Julia,” the coach assured her. “The school fully supports you playing with the women, and the girls don’t have a problem with you joining them.”

“I appreciate that, but I really insist on playing with the boys,” Julia pushed back. “It just isn’t fair for me to use my biological advantages against the girls.”

Coach Miller rubbed his temples. He didn’t know exactly where he stood on the political matter, and he had never heard of a trans woman arguing against her own interests, but he was too exhausted to fight the determined teenager any longer.

“Alright, whatever you want,” the older man finally agreed. “Go join the boys on their side of the court, and please be careful out there.”

Julia offered a tight nod and began the slow walk toward the male students. The teenage boys watched her approach with a mixture of immense amusement and visible discomfort. She stepped onto their side of the court. The coach blew the whistle, and the scrimmage resumed with an entirely different energy. The boys sprinted up and down the floor, passing the ball back and forth while Julia attempted to keep up with the fast-paced action.

Running was impossible. The heels were just too severe, and she could barely walk faster than a timid prance before she began to lose balance. She tottered around the perimeter of the action, desperately trying to look like she was actively participating without actually getting in the middle of the aggressive athletes.

A tall varsity player suddenly rebounded the ball and fired a rapid chest pass directly toward Julia. She gasped and raised her hands to catch the incoming object. Her absurdly long acrylic nails looked entirely out of place in the environment. The hard leather surface slammed violently against her artificial fingertips, bending her pink nail backward with a sharp jolt of pain. She let out a loud yelp and fumbled the catch, allowing the ball to bounce awkwardly off her chest and roll out of bounds. A few of the boys chuckled in amusement, but Julia simply cradled her throbbing hand against her stomach. If it weren’t for the industrial-strength glue Enzo’s sister had applied, her nail would have broken straight off.

The game continued around her, quickly transforming into a degrading spectacle. A few moments later, one of her teammates drove toward the basket and found himself blocked by the opposing defense. He tossed the basketball outward, and it landed directly in Julia’s hands just outside the three-point line. She secured her grip on the leather ball and turned her body to face the metal hoop. She bent her knees slightly, attempting to generate enough momentum for a standard jump shot. The impractical shape of her footwear prevented her from gaining any mechanical leverage. Her torso remained entirely stiff as she pushed the ball upward with her arms alone. The basketball traveled a pathetic distance, missing the backboard entirely and falling short in an embarrassing airball.

A fresh chorus of laughter erupted from the opposing team. Julia felt a tear prick the corner of her eye, but she forced herself to keep moving. The final disaster occurred just minutes before the period was scheduled to end. The opposing point guard miscalculated a long pass, sending the ball soaring toward Julia’s section of the court. She reached her arms into the air and successfully caught the pass, pulling the ball firmly against her chest. She pivoted her feet to look for an open teammate, momentarily forgetting the massive volume of fabric surrounding her lower half. Her left stiletto caught forcefully on the thick tulle of her own skirt.

Julia cried out as her ankles twisted sideways. She fell hard onto the polished hardwood floor, the impact jarring her bones and sending the basketball rolling away. Her plentiful gown flared out wildly around her fallen body, exposing her thighs and trapping her legs in a tangled mess of pink silk. The gymnasium erupted into loud snickers as the boys openly laughed at the fallen blonde struggling on the floor.

She pushed her plastic nails against the floorboards, desperately trying to leverage herself back into a standing position. A pair of large athletic sneakers suddenly appeared in her immediate field of vision. She looked up and saw Rick, a notoriously arrogant player from the football team, standing directly over her with a menacing smirk plastered across his face.

“Hey, Cinderella, do you want to suck my cock with those pretty lips while you’re down there?” Rick asked loud enough for the other boys to hear. “You’re probably a lot better at doing that than you are at playing sports.”

Julia froze completely, her heart pounding violently against her ribs. The overt sexual harassment made her feel sick to her stomach. She was a feminist and a woman’s rights activist, and she had just been spoken to like a sex object.

“Rick!” Coach Miller barked, marching aggressively across the court with his face completely flushed with anger. “Run ten laps around the gym! I won’t tolerate that kind of language on my court.”

The football player rolled his eyes and jogged away, waving condescendingly at Julia as he started his punishment, leaving the older man to deal with the fallen student. Coach Miller reached down and grasped the blonde by the upper arm, pulling her firmly to her feet while she frantically adjusted her tangled skirt to cover her exposed legs.

“I’ve seen enough of this nonsense, Julia,” the coach declared, pointing a stern finger directly toward the wooden seating area. “Go sit on the bleachers for the remainder of the session. You’re sitting out.”

“I can still play, Coach,” Julia argued, terrified that Enzo would consider this a failure of his mandated tasks. “I just tripped on my dress, but I’m fine to finish the game.”

“I’m not discussing this with you,” Coach Miller stated firmly, crossing his arms over his chest to signal the absolute end of the conversation. “You’re becoming a hazard to yourself and a distraction to my class. Do what you’re told and sit down.”

Julia opened her mouth to protest again, but she realized the man had reached his limit. She closed her lips and offered a defeated nod. She turned her back on the instructor and began the humiliating walk of shame toward the bleachers. The loud chuckles of the boys followed her every single step, cementing her new status as today’s laughingstock, and this was just first period.

❖

Julia sat in the back row of the biology laboratory, absently tapping the plastic casing of her ballpoint pen against the black laminate surface of her desk. The agonizing trauma of first period completely dominated her thoughts, making it impossible to focus on the lecture taking place at the front of the room. She could still hear the cruel laughter of the male athletes echoing loudly in her ears, and the phantom sensation of Rick standing over her fallen body made her skin crawl with intense disgust. When she walked into the science classroom a few minutes earlier, several of the boys sitting near the front of the room had immediately turned around and grinned at her with blatant, mocking amusement. Word of her humiliating performance on the basketball court had clearly spread across the campus, transforming her into the school’s biggest joke before the second period even began.

She knew her day was about to get a hell of a lot worse. Her smartphone had vibrated inside her skirt pocket just as she sat down, delivering a brand new text message from her tormentor. Enzo was not satisfied with the public degradation she had already suffered in the gymnasium. The incredibly brief message contained a new assignment she was required to complete before the period ended. The bully demanded that she actively flirt with at least one boy in the room before reminding her of what she stood to lose if she failed to execute the task perfectly.

The demand made her feel sick to her stomach. She possessed no romantic or sexual interest in men. She was a devout feminist who loved her girlfriend Kara, and the idea of playing the role of a desperate stereotype felt like a betrayal of her progressive values. She stared blankly at the lined paper resting on her desk, feeling the plastic tips of her fake nails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists. She was an aspiring valedictorian sitting in an advanced placement biology class, yet she was plotting how to offer herself up for male validation just to keep a horrific secret hidden. The cognitive dissonance was deafening.

Mr. Henderson stood at the front of the laboratory, writing genetic formulas across the whiteboard and lecturing the class on the principles of cellular mitosis. He was a strict educator who demanded silence and focus from his students. Julia usually loved this class. She understood the material and frequently led the complex discussions. Today, she could barely comprehend a single word the man was saying. Her false eyelashes constantly got in the way of her view of the board, and the dress felt entirely out of place in the professional setting. Students constantly turned around to stare, as if their own eyes couldn’t believe what she was actually wearing.

She glanced nervously up at the circular clock mounted above the classroom door. Only twelve minutes remained in the period. The crushing weight of the blackmail trap pressed down on her shoulders. She had no idea if Enzo was willing to call her bluff if she refused to follow through with the task, but she knew the potential consequences if he did. Julia swallowed the lump of pride lodged deep within her throat. She had to abandon her dignity and perform the degrading role her blackmailer had written for her.

She turned her attention to the boy sitting at the station directly to her right. His name was Tyler, a bright senior who spent most of his time ignoring the lecture as he believed he already knew more than the teacher. He was exactly the kind of cocky student Julia usually ignored. She took a deep breath, forcing her swollen lips into what she hoped was a seductive pout.

She leaned her torso across the narrow aisle separating their workstations. The movement caused the structured bodice of her gown to compress her ribs even further, pushing her chest upward into a prominent display. She hated herself for doing this. She was weaponizing the bimbo aesthetic to capture his attention, betraying her principles just to appease a bully.

“Psst,” Julia whispered. She tried her hardest to sound sweet and feminine instead of terrified.

Tyler stopped sketching in his notebook. He blinked and turned his head. His eyes dropped to her exposed cleavage before traveling slowly up to her painted face. He looked her up and down as if she were a piece of meat on display.

“What do you want, Julia?” the boy muttered. He raised an eyebrow and looked at her with visible amusement.

“I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re hot,” Julia whispered. She clumsily forced the words past her sticky lips. “I can’t stop looking at you.” The words made her want to vomit.

Tyler let out a snicker. A jovial smile spread across his face. He realized the respected valedictorian candidate was throwing herself at him in the middle of a science lecture. He had no idea why, but thought he could use the entertainment.

“Oh yeah?” Tyler asked. He leaned closer to her desk with a condescending smirk. “Just how hot do you think I am, Princess?” The last word came out more as a mocking gesture than flirtation.

Julia blushed, humiliation radiating across her cheeks beneath her layer of foundation. She had no idea how to respond to the mocking question. She was out of her element and trapped in a degrading social interaction she never wanted to initiate.

“I don’t know, just cute,” Julia stammered. She dropped her gaze to the floorboards as her confidence evaporated. Her nervousness compounded her flirtatious demeanor, making her come off as a shy teenager talking to her crush for the first time.

“Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class, Tyler?” Mr. Henderson asked. His stern voice rose above the quiet laboratory as he turned away from the whiteboard and glared at the back row. He respected Julia, despite her choice to attend his class in a completely inappropriate ball gown, and would have never suspected her of initiating the interaction.

Julia froze in her seat, her heart pounding against her ribs. She prayed silently that the boy would just apologize and return his focus to his notebook, allowing her to escape the terrible situation before the class discovered what she had said to the boy.

Tyler grinned and sat up straight in his chair, ignoring the terrified look in Julia’s wide eyes.

“Actually, Mr. Henderson, there is,” the teenage boy announced loudly, making sure his voice carried to every corner of the silent room. “Julia was just interrupting my learning to tell me how hot she thinks I am, and I’m pretty sure she wants me to fuck her.”

The classroom erupted into explosive laughter. Several of the boys sitting nearby howled with amusement, turning in their seats to point at the blushing trans girl in the pink dress. The senior girls whispered frantically to each other, their eyes wide with shock and judgment. Julia knew they were already wondering what had happened to the feminist genius.

The blonde wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. The public humiliation was agonizing. She had just been branded as a desperate, boy-crazy stereotype in front of a teacher she admired. She stared down at her trembling hands, her plastic nails digging into her thighs as she tried to hold back tears. She had completed the mandated task, but the resulting social degradation felt worse than she ever anticipated.

“That’s enough!” Mr. Henderson barked. He slammed his biology textbook onto his metal desk with a sharp crack that silenced the unruly teenagers.

The strict professor glared at the two students sitting in the back row. He looked at Tyler with disapproval before shifting his disappointed gaze onto Julia. The look in his eyes broke her heart. She could tell his respect for her was dwindling fast.

“Both of you will stay after class for a serious discussion about your classroom behavior,” the teacher declared. “I won’t tolerate this kind of disruption in my laboratory. Open your textbooks to page forty and remain silent for the rest of the period.”

Julia nodded. She sank as low into her plastic chair as the corset would allow. She stared blindly at the pages of her textbook, the scientific text blurring together as tears pooled in her eyes. She was actively ruining her pristine reputation, and everybody thought it was her own doing.

❖

Julia leaned over the row of sinks and splashed cold tap water directly over her face. She kept her eyes squeezed shut for a long moment, allowing the chilling sensation to soothe her flushed skin as she stood inside the empty girls’ bathroom. The loud ringing of the lunch bell had echoed through the campus just a few minutes ago, signaling a desperately needed break in her torturous schedule. The designated lunch period offered her a temporary respite from the relentless stares, the cruel snickers, and the highly visible humiliation she had endured all morning. She just wanted a few minutes of total isolation to collect her thoughts and stop her hands from trembling so violently.

She reached for a brown paper towel from the metal dispenser and carefully dabbed the moisture away from her skin. She tossed the damp paper into the trash bin and finally forced herself to look up into the large vanity mirror spanning the length of the tiled wall.

As she stared at her own reflection, a deep sense of dread settled into her stomach. She wondered what the hell Elena had used to seal the cosmetics to her face at the salon. It had been almost twenty-four hours since the forced makeover, and the dramatic transformation refused to fade. She had slept face-down into her pillow, she had showered that morning, and she had just splashed water across her cheeks, yet the makeup still looked as pristine and vibrant as ever. The thick foundation remained perfectly smooth, the dark charcoal eyeliner hadn’t smudged a single millimeter, and the sticky pink gloss coating her swollen lips looked freshly applied. The horrifying realization that this bimbo aesthetic was still going strong sent a sharp shiver racing down her spine.

Lost in her own nightmare, the trans girl stared blankly at the unblemished blonde curls cascading around her shoulders. She was so deeply absorbed in her internal panic that she absently heard the subtle creak of the bathroom door swinging open. She didn’t notice the intrusion at first. It wasn’t until she heard the steady, slow cadence of sneakers stepping across the floor tiles that her focus snapped back to reality. The footsteps were far too wide and confident to belong to any of the girls.

Julia spun around on her stiletto heels, her eyes widening in shock as she watched Enzo swagger casually into the girls’ bathroom. He came to a halt a foot away from the sinks, a wide grin plastered across his handsome face. He raised his large hands and began a slow, mocking applause that echoed loudly off the bathroom walls.

“You are being such a good girl today, Barbie,” Enzo praised, his tone dripping with thick condescension as he dropped his hands back to his sides. “I honestly didn’t think you had the guts to pull off that flirting task in Biology, but it shows that you are taking this seriously.”

“Are you trying to destroy my entire life?” Julia demanded, her voice shaking with a mixture of profound anger and helpless terror. “I got a disciplinary warning from Mr. Henderson today. What the hell did I do to you to deserve this?”

“Oh, lighten up,” the athlete laughed, waving his hand dismissively at her genuine distress. “You take everything way too seriously. We’re just having a little bit of fun, and you should really learn to enjoy your new role. It suits you much better than that boring feminist phase ever did.”

“There is nothing fun about this,” Julia shot back, crossing her arms over her rhinestone bodice in a defensive posture. “It isn’t fun humiliating myself in front of my teachers. It isn’t fun flirting with a guy in class when I’m into girls. I’m literally sick to my stomach.”

“You did a great job with Tyler, by the way,” Enzo countered, ignoring her complaints entirely as he leaned his hip against the edge of a closed stall door.

Julia narrowed her eyes, suddenly realizing the terrifying scope of his control. She had been sitting in the back row of the laboratory, and Enzo was nowhere near the science wing during the second period.

“How do you even know what happened in Biology?” the blonde asked, a fresh wave of anxiety tightening her chest. “It happened literally an hour ago.”

“Because you’re famous in the school rumor mill right now, princess,” Enzo grinned. “All anyone is talking about is how you came to school late wearing your new uniform, and your crazy antics in class. People are practically tripping over themselves to text each other about your little breakdown. That’s how I’m always going to know if you’re keeping up your end of the bargain. Word of your performances will always get back to me.”

Julia felt the blood drain from her face. Even when the bastard wasn’t around, he was still controlling her. Every classmate was now an unwitting spy reporting directly to her blackmailer.

“You can’t keep doing this to me,” Julia pleaded. Her defensive anger crumbled into genuine desperation. “Please, Enzo. Just tell me what you want to delete the videos.”

“I want you to be a good little bimbo,” Enzo stated. His voice dropped the playful edge and adopted a cold, authoritative tone. “And I want you to remember that one slip-up means serious time in jail for cheating the district, and immediate expulsion for all of your friends. You’re the one who wanted to become a girl, Julia, and I’m just helping you achieve that like the good Samaritan I am.”

Julia clamped her mouth shut. The threat of the videos silenced her protests just as effectively as the padlocks trapped her inside the gown. She had no leverage, no escape route, and no way to combat the rumors spreading through the cafeteria.

“Just keep up the good work,” Enzo instructed, reaching into the pocket of his denim jeans. “You have a test scheduled in your next period, and I can’t wait to see how you do.”

He pulled a small, folded square of lined notebook paper from his pocket and held it out. Julia stared at the harmless-looking note, knowing it contained another agonizing set of instructions designed to torture and humiliate her. She uncrossed her arms and reached forward, her acrylic nails brushing against his skin as she snatched the paper from his grasp.

“See you around, Barbie,” Enzo chuckled. He turned his back on her and swaggered confidently out of the girls’ bathroom.

The wooden door swung shut behind him, plunging the room back into silence. Julia stood frozen near the sinks, her heart fluttering against her chest as she looked down at the folded paper resting in her palm. Her math class was an advanced calculus course, which she usually dominated with ease. She took a deep breath and carefully unfolded the note. The blonde read the brief, handwritten instructions twice, her eyes widening in pure terror as the horror of her next task came into view.

❖

“You have exactly thirty minutes, and your time starts now,” Mr. Davis announced from the front of the classroom.

The immediate rustle of thick paper sounded across the room as dozens of students simultaneously flipped their calculus exams face up and began reading the complex equations. Julia sat near the center of the third row, her ridiculous pink ball gown spilling out over the edges of her plastic chair and brushing against the metal legs of the desks adjacent to her. She stared down at the blank worksheet resting on her black desktop, her fingers trembling as she gripped the plastic casing of a bright pink gel pen. The vibrant writing utensil felt disgusting in her hand.

The folded note Enzo had handed her in the girls’ bathroom contained a very specific set of humiliating instructions for her next period. He commanded Julia to visit her locker before the bell rang and secure every single pencil and standard ink pen she owned inside. She was only permitted to use the obnoxious pink pen he had provided. The bully knew how much the trans girl hated that color, and forcing her to take a crucial mathematics test with the feminine pen was a deliberate attack on her tomboy identity.

She took a shaky breath and brought the tip of the pen down to the top right corner of the paper, where a blank line waited for her name. Her chest tightened painfully inside the brightly colored outfit. She had spent years working tirelessly to establish herself, fighting for respect and recognition as a brilliant student destined for an Ivy League education. Now, she was forced to mock everything she valued.

With a deep sense of self-loathing, she pressed the ink onto the page. She bypassed her actual name, forcing her hand to move in wide, bubbly loops to spell out the word ‘Barbie’ in bright pink cursive. She finished the degrading signature by drawing a tiny, hollow heart directly over the letter ‘I’ instead of a standard dot, and placing her real last name, Lopez, directly beside it. The name looked obnoxious and stereotypical staring back at her from the official school document. She felt sick knowing Mr. Davis would have to read that ridiculous signature when he graded the papers later that evening. He might fail her for having the nerve to write that pathetic name, Julia thought.

Julia forced her gaze downward to the actual test questions. She pushed the social humiliation aside for a brief moment to focus on the mathematics. The first problem asked her to find the derivative of a complex trigonometric function. Her mind went straight to work. Beneath the heavy makeup and stupid costume, her towering intellect remained intact. She mentally rearranged the variables and jotted down the correct equation.

She moved on to the second and third questions. Solving the intricate calculus problems came with the practiced ease of a dedicated student. The math offered her a momentary distraction from the nightmare of her forced makeover. She loved the logical certainty of numbers and the way a complicated equation always collapsed down into a single truth if you applied the right formula. For a few glorious minutes, she forgot about the padlocks securing her clothing and the constant stares of her peers. She was just a brilliant scholar excelling in her favorite subject.

She reached the fourth question on the page and read the prompt carefully. It was a challenging integral problem involving partial fractions. She knew the correct answer right away. The solution formed in her mind before she even touched the pen to the paper. She positioned her wrist to write out the first step of the formula, but her hand froze.

The final instruction from Enzo’s handwritten note flashed through her memory. The cruel jock did not just want her to use a pink pen or adopt a bimbo nickname. He wanted tangible proof that she was sacrificing her own intelligence to appease his demands.

Julia closed her eyes and fought back a surge of frustrated tears. She swallowed her pride and lowered the pen to the blank space beneath the fourth question. With immense reluctance, she wrote down the exact phrase her blackmailer demanded.

‘I’m just a girl.’

The pink ink mocked her from the page. She felt a profound wave of disgust wash over her as she stared at the pathetic writing. She couldn’t believe she actually went through with it. That statement fought against everything she stood for. She played into the worst misogynistic tropes imaginable to protect her friends from expulsion. She knew her classmates were glancing over at her. Their eyes were drawn to the massive dress taking up the aisle. They were watching the school’s top feminist scholar turn herself into an offensive joke right in front of them.

She forced herself to keep moving before the timer ran out. She shifted her attention to questions five through seven. She found them just as simple as the first three. She breezed through the calculations and wrote the correct answers to secure whatever partial credit she could manage. Her brain craved the intellectual stimulation. She took a small sliver of comfort in knowing she could still conquer the material even as that disgusting answer still appeared higher on the page.

Then she reached question eight. She paused and let out a quiet sigh. The rigid corset squeezed her torso as her shoulders slumped in defeat. Enzo’s note contained a strict pattern for her exam. He required her to forfeit every fourth answer, replacing the correct mathematical solution with that exact same humiliating phrase.

She skipped reading the numbers for the eighth problem. She simply pressed the pink gel pen against the white paper and wrote the degrading words once again. ‘I’m just a girl.’

Julia continued this agonizing process for the remainder of the thirty-minute period. She solved three complex problems with intelligent logic, only to ruin the fourth with a bubbly pink, misogynistic declaration. By the time Mr. Davis called for the class to put their pens down, her test paper was a crazy mix of brilliant calculus and embarrassing bimbo rhetoric.

The transformed blonde sat quietly at her desk while the teacher walked up and down the aisles to collect the examinations. She handed her paper over without making eye contact. Her cheeks burned hot with shame as Mr. Davis frowned at the bright pink ink. She had spent her high school career fighting for a flawless GPA, viewing her grades as her ticket to a prestigious college. Now, she was tanking her own test score to protect a horrific secret she could not share with anyone.

❖

Julia pushed open the front door of her house, her chest heaving as she stepped into the familiar entryway. The agonizing walk home from the bus stop felt like a marathon of pure torture. Her feet throbbed inside the locked stiletto heels she had been forced to wear all day, sending sharp jolts of pain up her calves with every step she took across the concrete pavement. She pushed the wooden door shut behind her and leaned her shoulders against the solid frame, closing her eyes as she tried to process the magnitude of the social devastation she had just survived. She had spent the school day parading around the campus looking like a brainless, hyper-feminine stereotype, actively sabotaging her own academic standing and destroying the progressive reputation everyone had known her for.

“Julia, is that you?” her mother, Sandra, called out from the kitchen.

The teenager flinched at the sound of her mother’s cheerful voice. She could hear the clatter of pots and pans, indicating that Sandra was already preparing an early dinner. Julia squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back a sudden wave of frustrated tears. She desperately wanted to run into the kitchen, collapse into her mother’s arms, and tell the woman exactly what that asshole the older woman praised this morning was really doing to her daughter. However, she knew that telling her mother the truth would lead to her family’s judgment, and she couldn’t bear coming home to parents who were ashamed of her.

Instead of answering her mother, Julia pushed herself away from the door frame and moved quietly toward the staircase. She climbed the wooden steps as fast as she could manage and slipped into her bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her. She dropped her canvas backpack onto the carpet and unzipped the main compartment. She reached inside and pulled out the calculus exam she had taken earlier that day, tossing the crumpled paper onto her mattress.

The test landed face-up. A bright red ‘D’ was circled prominently at the very top of the page. It was the first failing grade she had ever received in her academic career, and the sight of the red ink bleeding into the paper felt like a punch to the gut. She stared at the bubbly, pink cursive spelling out the name ‘Barbie Lopez’ beside the grade. The worksheet was a humiliating record of her own forced incompetence, proving that Enzo’s blackmail had pushed further than just making her look like a dumb blonde.

The blonde’s immediate priority was getting out of the disgusting costume she had been trapped in all day. Enzo had sent her a text message during her miserable walk home from the bus stop, smugly informing her that he had hidden the keys to the padlocks somewhere in her bedroom while he was supposedly helping her get dressed that morning.

Julia walked over to her bedside table and pulled the top drawer open. She dug through her collection of charging cables and miscellaneous trinkets, her long nails making it difficult to grasp small objects. She pulled out an old paperback novel and tossed it onto the bed, letting out a sigh of relief as she spotted a tiny silver keyring resting in the back corner of the drawer.

She snatched the keys and sat down on the edge of her mattress. She reached down toward her right ankle, guiding the tiny metal key into the padlock securing her shoe. She twisted the key, hearing the internal mechanism click before the lock popped open. She pulled the metal loop free from the ankle strap and kicked the pointed shoe off her foot. Julia repeated the same process on her left ankle, discarding the second shoe onto the carpet.

The teenager stood up and reached both hands behind her back to locate the final padlock securing the zipper of her gown. She grasped the small lock, inserted the key, and twisted it carefully. The metal shackle released its grip on the fabric catch. She pulled the lock free, tossed it onto the bedside table, and grabbed the tiny zipper tab. The trans woman pulled the zipper downward in one swift motion, breaking the seal of the restricting garment.

Julia shimmied her shoulders, allowing the structured bodice and the puffy skirt to fall away from her body. The pink ball gown pooled into a messy pile on the floor. She stepped out of the fabric, standing in only her underwear as she took her first deep, unobstructed breath of the day.

The blackmailed woman walked over to her wooden dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer. She grabbed a simple white t-shirt and a pair of baggy gray sweatpants, slipping them onto her body. The soft cotton felt incredible against her skin, offering a comforting contrast to the scratchy materials she had endured all day. She was finally dressed in her normal clothes again, even if the pristine salon makeup and her new big, fake lips still stared back at her from the vanity mirror.

She walked back over to her bed and picked up her smartphone. The screen illuminated instantly, displaying several missed notifications. She unlocked the device, her stomach dropping as she opened up WhatsApp and saw a new message sitting at the top of her inbox.

Kara had always been her biggest supporter, the one person who celebrated her intellect and joined her in feminist activism long before the transition began.

We seriously need to talk. Can I come over?

Julia stared at the stark text. Kara never sent blunt messages like that unless something was horribly wrong. The rumors from the high school had clearly reached her. Her classmates were undoubtedly talking about the valedictorian dressing like a bimbo, flirting with boys in biology class, and making a fool of herself on the basketball court. Kara was smart, and she was going to demand an explanation for the sudden shift in behavior. Julia had no idea how she was going to look her supportive girlfriend in the eye and lie to her face about the makeover. Telling Kara the truth meant bringing her into this humiliating ordeal, but continuing the lie meant sacrificing the most important relationship in her life.

Before the panic could fully consume her, the phone buzzed forcefully in her palm.

A fresh notification appeared at the top of the screen. She tapped the banner, opening another text thread from Enzo. The tone of the message sent fresh disgust down Julia’s spine. This fucking asshole’s torment wasn’t over just yet.

Just because school is out doesn’t mean your tasks are done for the day.

Julia stared at the glowing screen as a wave of nausea twisted her stomach. She had assumed her house would serve as a haven where she could shed the persona and keep hold of her identity until the next morning. Enzo was extending his control with his next task, invading the private space where she used to feel secure.

A second message populated on the screen just a few seconds later.

It is time for your homework, Barbie. Don’t disappoint me.

A third and final bubble appeared, containing a lengthy paragraph of text detailing her extracurricular assignment. Julia held her breath as her eyes scanned the bright screen. She read the specific, degrading demands her blackmailer expected her to fulfill before the sun went down. The color drained from her face as the sheer humiliation of the requested task settled into her mind. The nightmare of the day was far from over. It had followed her right into her bedroom, and she stared in pure horror at the glowing words, realizing she had no choice but to obey the blackmailing bully.

End of Chapter Two