My Revenge

The story of how my life went from child genius to a prison can’t be explained without a little bit of context. I’m a legacy. My father, my mother, and all but one of my grandparents went to Princeton. My older sister got rejected, and she was basically cut out of the family entirely. She wasn’t invited to spend any holidays with the family, go back home, and my parents stopped paying for her college. In fact, they demanded she pay them money for all the “wasted years raising a non-ivy child”. Since I was the only child left, all their hopes were placed on me. If I also don’t get into Princeton, I fear my parents will do much worse things to me.

I remember that first Christmas without my sister. I woke up on Christmas morning, believing she would be dropped off by Santa as my Christmas present, but she wasn’t there. I looked up and down the house, looking for her. She practically raised me, so I was so sure she’d be there. I searched for an hour, until my parents woke up. They heard me scream for her to get out of her hiding spot, and my mom said, “Evette isn’t coming. Stop screaming, I’m going back to bed. Don’t you dare wake me up again, you’re supposed to strive to be better than her.” I truly tried to be better than her, but everyone else was too. Miranda was one of those people. She was just a stupid girl who I thought was cute tricked me into screwing up my life. She told me if I stole some chocolate for her, she would go on a date with me. I happily complied, I was blinded by my lust, and she tripped me, spilling out the chocolate. I was sent to a holding cell. I thought, there’s no way any ivy, including Princeton, would accept me now. Miranda would surely give the interviewers an “anonymous tip” that I was a criminal.

My parents moved to New York to give me the best chance at one of the teachers commending me for Princeton. Miranda knew this, and she also grew up in a very similar situation to mine. She threw me in jail to potentially open up a spot for her. Although it’s terrible, I felt flattered because she thought I was strong enough competition to make a move.

In the prison cell, I knew I needed a plan, and a plan is what I made.

The teachers at my school have various connections to multiple ivies, but only one teacher had a connection to a Princeton teacher who happens to decide who gets into Princeton, Nancy Jones. She posted about her trip to Havana with Steve Bridges, the Princeton teacher, two days ago. Mrs. Jones, fortunately for me, was my Algebra and Trigonometry teacher in my freshman year.

The next morning I bought a gift basket of chocolates, not just regular chocolates, but luxury chocolates imported from Belgium.

When I entered her room, room 817, she was rubbing her eyes, clearly she had been crying. Good, I have something to use, I thought in the moment.

“Hello, Mrs. Jones. Are you okay?” I asked, feigning concern. I practiced in the cell last night for this exact reason.

“Oh, you’re so sweet to ask! I know this is probably inappropriate to talk about with a student, but my husband said he was going to divorce me during breakfast this morning.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that! Was he the one you went to Havana with, Mr. Bridges?”

“Yes—“

I muttered, “Great you're useless”, and I walked out. I left the chocolates on her desk, and she was too shocked at my rude behavior to say anything.

Since Mrs. Jones was a dead end, I had to come up with another plan, fast. After school, I still didn’t know what to do, so I asked my parents. Despite their lack of hiding their disappointment, they gave me good advice: “Plead the 5th”. And, if possible, change the subject to something flattering. They also said to bring some cash to the interview. “Depending on the vibe, try a bribe.”

A couple weeks later, Princeton asked to interview me. I brought five thousand dollars along with a check, and I practiced my speech at least a hundred times. If my jail time was brought up, either change the subject to my internship at Alcatraz, or I could play it for sympathy.

I took a deep breath. Everything is riding on this. I tried to take a second deep breath, but I ended up gasping for air. My heart rate was so high that I thought I was dying. The Princeton representative rushed over, and she helped me relearn how to breathe. I started crying. It was all over once she saw me weak. I ran out in a rage only revenge could stop.

I ran only thinking of one thing: “1028 on 5th and 9th street”, Miranda’s address. I didn’t care if her parents were there, no one could stop me. Thankfully, Miranda’s parents were working, and Miranda was at home.

I stormed into her unlocked house, and I screamed. “Miranda! Where are you?” I got my answer soon enough. Miranda walked down the stairs with her headphones on. She was looking at her phone, so she didn’t notice me. I held up my hands behind her neck, almost touching it. I itched to get revenge, but something stopped me. Was I really doing this? Is revenge really worth it if I’m not going to Princeton anyway? I didn't get to mull over these thoughts for long because I slipped, and my hands wrapped around her neck. At that point all I could do was go all the way. But, the Princeton representative followed me. She opened the door, and she took a picture of me, wrapping my hands around Miranda’s throat.

Guess what? In the end I went to jail for attempted murder and trespassing while Miranda’s sob story about her life flashing before her eyes got her into Princeton. Once I get out of this cell, I won’t hesitate. Miranda will get what is coming to her eventually.