Chapter 3

Before I could even process the question, my three roommates violently shoved their chairs back.

"I can't believe we actually shared a room with you for two years," she yelled, her voice echoing in the dead silent room. "You're disgusting."

"We want her out!" Sarah chimed in, glaring up at the Dean. "We demand she move out right now! We are not sleeping under the same roof as her!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I stepped forward, dropping the plastic fork. "Chelsea forced me! All of you were literally just standing there pressuring me to eat it!"

Instead of answering, the crowd physically flinched. They backed away in unison as if I had the plague. No one made eye contact. No one listened.

My academic advisor shoved his way to the front of the circle. The man who usually praised my work ethic now looked at me with pure revulsion. "I recommended you for class representative. I have never been so wrong about a student. I really regret."

"If you stay in the dorms, you'll only corrupt the rest of them."

"Corrupt them with what?" I demanded, my hands shaking. "A pastry?"

The Dean held up a hand, silencing the room. He didn't look at me directly. "Sloane, effective immediately, you are placed on disciplinary probation. Your scholarship eligibility is permanently revoked. You have twenty-four hours to vacate student housing."

By the time I staggered back to my dorm, my clothes, textbooks, and makeup were scattered across the front lawn. My roommates had literally thrown my stuff out the third-floor window.

A crowd of students had circled the building, chanting, "Get out! Get out!"

I scrambled across the wet grass, grabbed my ID, shoved whatever clothes survived the sprinklers into a trash bag, and ran.

I managed to rent a rundown off-campus studio that afternoon. Sitting on a bare mattress in the dark, I opened my phone. My notifications were maxed out. Campus forums, Instagram, Reddit—thousands of comments were burying me alive.

[She belongs in a psych ward.]

[Can't believe she did you-know-what in front of the Dean.]

[Burn her.]

I blindly scrolled for hours, desperate for context. But nobody was actually saying what I did. They just kept repeating that I did that.

Paranoia crept in. Was I drugged? Did the pie have some crazy hallucinogen in it? In my head, I just ate a piece of pie. But what if I stripped on the tables? What if I punched someone and my brain just deleted the memory?

First thing the next morning, I went straight to the campus security office. I begged the guard to pull the Bake Day footage. Reluctantly, he pulled up the tape.

I replayed it three times. The video was crystal clear. I stood there. I took a fork. I put a small bite of pie into my mouth. I chewed. I swallowed. The room froze. That was it. I didn't do a single crazy thing.

I went to the campus clinic for a blood test. Maybe I was having a mental breakdown.

The doctor, a sweet older woman, patted my shoulder. "Don't panic, honey. I see plenty of students who unknowingly ingest laced drinks or edibles at parties. You’re having a bad trip, that’s all. We'll run a tox screen and get you fixed up."

"No, I wasn't drinking," I said, desperate for a normal human reaction. "I swear. I just took a bite of an apple pie at the Bake Day."

The doctor froze. Her hand slowly pulled away from my shoulder. The warmth vanished from her face. She picked up the wall phone. "Security? I need a patient removed from exam room two."

"Wait, what? Why?"

She turned her back to me. "We treat normal patients here. We do not cater to freaks like you. Get out of my clinic."

Two guards literally dragged me out the back doors.

When I got back to my new apartment, my landlady was standing on the porch.

"Pack your crap," she snapped, kicking my duffel bag down the steps. "You have five minutes."

"What? I just paid rent!"

"I'm not renting to your kind. It brings bad luck to the normal tenants."

"What kind?" I screamed, tears finally spilling over. "Just tell me what I did!"

She scoffed and slammed the door in my face.

Over the next forty-eight hours, the coffee shop where I worked texted me that I was fired. Every single summer internship I had lined up sent me an immediate, automated rejection email.

I was completely boxed out. The entire world had blacklisted me.

With no money and nowhere to live, I applied for a temporary leave of absence to go home. My advisor approved it in three minutes. He couldn't wait to wipe his hands of me.

Home was a quiet suburb two hours away. The second I walked through the front door, the tension finally snapped. I broke down.

My Mom and dad were amazing. They didn't pry or pressure me to explain. They just hugged me tight. Mom cooked my favorite meals every single day. My little brother, Ethan, was around constantly to keep me company.

But, honestly, Ethan felt a little off. Sometimes I'd catch him staring at me with a really intense, calculating look—but he was always a highly ambitious, quirky kid. I figured he was just worried about his big sister.

I wanted to tell them. I really did. I almost sat them down a dozen times to say, Hey, my life fell apart because I ate an apple pie. But the words sounded absolutely insane out loud. They'd think I was having a psychotic break. So I kept my mouth shut.

A month went by. The noise in my head faded. I decided I wasn't going to let them ruin my life. I was going back to school. I'd commute, keep my head down, finish my last year, secure my degree, and leave that cursed place forever.

When I told my parents my plan, they were thrilled.

"We are so incredibly proud of you for bouncing back, Sloane," Dad said, beaming.

"We're throwing you a big farewell dinner tonight to celebrate," Mom added.

Dinner that night was a massive feast. Roast beef, buttery mashed potatoes, green beans. It finally felt safe. Normal. My parents laughed and poured sparkling cider. Even Ethan was smiling.

"Alright, clearing the plates!" Mom announced happily. "Time for dessert!"

She walked into the kitchen.

I leaned back, glancing across the table.

Mom walked back into the dining room. She set a large glass dish down right in the center of the table.

It was a freshly baked apple pie......