I had been close to this girl, whom I used to call my best friend, for years. We confided in each other about everything. Then, right before an important test, she did something I never expected. I had spent many nights studying and had all my notes and flashcards. I left them in my bag in her room while I went to get some water. When I returned, she was standing near my bag, her hand close to it, and she smiled. Later, I discovered that my notes were missing. The test came, and although I didn’t fail, I didn’t perform well either. I knew she was responsible for taking my notes; she wanted to be the top student in class. I was furious and wanted to scream, but I held it in.
At first, I wanted to hurt her the same way. I wanted to take something she loved. But then I stopped. I thought of a better plan.
She was always very proud of her voice. She loved to sing. She was in a small group at school. They were going to perform for everyone. It was her big moment. She talked about it all the time. So I decided to use that.
I found out the name of the song they were going to sing. It was a new song, one I did not know. I practiced it at home in secret. I do not have a beautiful voice. I am just okay. But I learned every word. I learned the rhythm. I made sure I knew it better than she did.
The night of the performance came. The room was full. Her group got on stage. She was in the front. She smiled. She looked so happy. The music started. She opened her mouth to sing the first line.
But before she could, I stood up from my seat. I was in the middle of the crowd. I opened my mouth and sang the first line. I sang it loud. I sang it clear. Everyone turned. They were surprised. She stopped. She looked at me. Her face went white. She forgot the next words. She tried to start again, but she stumbled. She could not find the note. She looked at her friends. They looked confused. The music kept playing. She just stood there, silent.
I finished the line, then I sat down. The room was quiet for a moment. Then people started to whisper. She ran off the stage. I heard her crying behind the curtain.
I did not need to shout at her. I did not need to call her a liar. I just showed everyone that I knew her secret better than she did. I took her moment of pride, and I made it small. It was a cold thing to do. I know that. But it felt fair.
After that night, she stopped talking to me. I did not care. I had my revenge. And I walked away feeling like the score was even.