Chapter 4Queen Bee Framed Me for Being Fat and Got What She Deserved

I wasn't flustered in the slightest. I challenged her openly. "I wanted to ask you the same thing! You prepared uniforms that were too small for me twice! How long are you going to keep targeting me like this?"

Publicly called out, Tiffany exploded in rage, cursing and reaching out to hit me. "Damn it, you absolute bitch! What are you talking about?! When have I ever targeted you?! Do you have a death wish?!"

"Tiffany!"

The slap never landed. It was cut short by Mr. Miller's sharp, commanding voice cutting through the air.

Mr. Miller's face had turned a ghostly pale. Beside him, Vice Principal Thompson was visibly shaking with rage, his jaw clenched and fists tight.

On the stage, the district official glanced at Principal Evans, a dry, humorless smile on his lips. "The 'culture' here at your school is certainly...unique."

Mr. Evans forced a smile. "Please excuse us, Mr. Vance. These kids are just playing around."

He probably thought Mr. Vance would drop the matter to save face. But he didn't. He continued, as if to himself, "Playing around? It looked like bullying to me!"

Those words sent a chill down Mr. Evans's spine. He lowered his head and shot Mr. Miller a look, urging him to quickly get us out of there. He then changed the subject. "No, no, that's not it at all! Let's watch the next class's formation, I guarantee it won't disappoint you!"

Because our class was the first to perform, we left a bad impression on Mr. Vance right from the start. As a result, he barely paid attention to the subsequent performances. As soon as they were over, he made an excuse and left.

Our class was kept back, and everyone remained silent. Only Tiffany was covering her face and crying.

As soon as she saw Mr. Miller and Mr. Thompson appear, she choked up and ran to them, sobbing. "Mr. Miller, help me! I really wasn't targeting Chloe. It's her own fault for being too fat, that's why the uniform seams ripped."

Mr. Miller remained silent, but Mr. Thompson snorted. "Then how do you explain secretly switching her 3XL uniform to an S-size?"

"I just heard about this on my way over! Chloe's uniform was replaced twice, and both times it was unwearable. What are you going to do about it?"

"Are you sure this isn't targeting?"

Yes. That was the question.

If this wasn't targeting, what was it?

If the first wrong size was a genuine mistake, I would have accepted it. But the second time, I confirmed my size was 3XL, repeatedly. What arrived was an XS.

And after trying it on for just a few minutes, a red rash had already bloomed around my neck-proof of the uniform's toxic quality.

Wasn't all this targeting? A mistake could happen once, but twice?

Tiffany sobbed, trying to defend herself. "This really isn't my fault. Maybe the vendor was negligent."

"Besides, maybe it's because Chloe is too fat, and they just didn't have enough fabric, so they could only make a smaller size. How is that my fault?"

Mr. Thompson, being a reasonable man, didn't buy her nonsense. He pointed at the uniform I'd taken off, gritting his teeth. "Isn't this supposed to be a designer brand? Such a big company doesn't have enough fabric to make clothes?"

"Send me the manufacturer's contact information. I'll call them personally. I want to see how they make their clothes!"

This made Tiffany panic. She clutched her phone, frozen. Mr. Thompson's tone was unyielding as he repeated, "Did you hear me? Send me the manufacturer's contact information!"