But the dorm supervisor called Diane, reporting that I, a mere child, had stayed out all night. Without even asking for my side of the story, Diane stormed into the school, berating me in front of my classmates and teachers. "What kind of girl runs around outside at night? Have you no shame? You're a student; your focus should be on your studies!"
I didn't argue because I knew she wouldn't believe me. Eventually, a teacher stepped in to explain that I'd been studying late, which was why I missed curfew.
Diane softened her tone slightly, "Well, that's just because she's not too bright! The early bird catches the worm, and Marlon wouldn't have made such a rookie mistake!"
Even when I worked hard, I faced scorn. It seemed that no matter how much I tried, there was always a reason to criticize.
Diane's favoritism was blatant, seeping into every corner of our lives.
I once witnessed a scene that stuck with me: Vincent's friend sent a few boxes of big, fresh watermelons from out of town during the winter.
Fresh fruit in winter was a rarity, especially watermelons.
Marlon and I couldn't help but drool over them.