After securing a guaranteed spot in Harvard, I decided to skip the SAT.
The moment the school’s golden boy Clive Smolett heard that, he stormed over and punched me across the face.
“Everyone else has to take the SAT! Why the hell do you get a free pass?
“Is it because you’re scared you’re not actually the genius you think you are, and you’re afraid the whole campus will find out, huh?”
In my last life, during the SAT, Clive’s essay was identical to mine—word for word.
I asked the proctor—my own sister—and my childhood friend, who was in the same exam room, to back me up.
Instead, they begged the school to go easy on me, saying I should be allowed to retake the test since it’s my “first offense.”
By the time the scandal blew up, everyone cursed my name and accused me of being a “cheater” and “plagiarist.”
And since I couldn’t prove I was innocent, I got expelled.
To make things worse, they got me permanently banned from taking the test again.
Mom and Dad were doxxed and harassed online. They lost their jobs and aged 10 years overnight.
Their son went from being on top to hitting rock bottom. Depression hit hard.
On a winter night, I took my life.
But then, suddenly, I woke up—back to the week before the SAT.
——
“Denny, I made some avocado toast with smoked salmon. Eat first before you study. You’ve lost weight!”
My sister Charlize Witt placed the plate on my desk, even taking the time to bring some blueberry protein smoothie.
For a second, I nearly fell out of my chair in surprise.
Just then, my best friend Geena Baxter walked in, setting another food container on my desk.
“I heard you haven’t been eating much. Here, I made some hummus for you so you can eat well again.”
I’d been through this before. Twice.
In my last life, I thought I was the luckiest person in the world—I got a sister seven years older who always took care of me and a childhood friend who wasn’t blood but felt closer than family.
But now that I was back in my life, their efforts just broke my heart.
Back then, when I took the admission test, my essay was identical to Clive’s, down to the last word.
The grading committee caught it immediately and reported it to the College Board.
As a student who got recommended to be admitted to Harvard, I had a real shot at being the highest scorer in SAT.
But the moment this incident broke, I was caught in a storm of public opinion.
I begged Charlize, who was my proctor then, and Geena, who took the exam in the same room, to help me clear my name.
But… they refused.
My sister even apologized on my behalf, asking Payton College Preparatory High School to let me repeat the year instead of kicking me out since the “academic dishonesty” was my “first offense.”
The incident sparked an uproar online.
[I was like, ‘wow, he had the nerve to cheat,’ and then, turns out—his own sister was the proctor! That’s basically an inside job, right?!]
[Exactly! Cheaters like this guy should be banned from taking the SAT forever! It’s only fair to everyone!]]
[Absolutely! He wants to retake the exam? Dream on!]
With all the backlash, the school shut down Charlize’s request.
Not long after, the exam results were released.
I, the school’s top student, barely scraped past 200 points.
Meanwhile? Clive, the guy who always ranked at the bottom, miraculously became the state’s top scorer in SAT.
His essay was even published as a model answer, praised by teachers across the state.
And just like that, he became the revered genius scholar.
And I became a cheater and plagiarist!
Due to the severity of the “misconduct,” I was permanently banned from taking the exam. The school also refused to issue my high school diploma.
Without a degree, my only option was to be a delivery guy.
But customers would dump their orders on me and leave bad reviews just for fun.
Because of me, my parents lost their jobs. The stress broke them.
To pay their medical bills, I took a warehouse job sorting packages.
Unfortunately, within days, my boss recognized me.
He refused to pay me and even threw me out onto the street.
With no money and hope left, I lost all reason to keep going.
On a snowy night, in complete despair, I plunged into a lake on the verge of freezing over.
But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in the week leading up to my college entrance exams.
Staring at my sister, who was meticulously helping me prepare, and my childhood friend, who was eagerly trying to nourish me back to health, I felt a mix of emotions.
“Denny, I made a list of all the possible essay prompts. If you study these, I guarantee you’ll get the perfect score!” Charlize said confidently as she placed a neatly compiled list of topics in front of me.
Next to her, Geena teased me. “You better land that top spot, Denny. I’ve been feeding you hummus all week—don’t embarrass the chickpeas and tahini!”
It was meant to be a joke, but I couldn’t bring myself to laugh.
Charlize was my sister—she’d never stab me in the back.
Geena had grown up with me—she had always been sharp-tongued but fiercely protective.
In fact, once, someone talked shit about me, and she nearly got into a fight over it.
So it couldn’t have been them.
Then where did it all go wrong?
I had been an outstanding student my whole life, consistently ranking first in my grade.
Even after transferring to one of the most competitive schools in Illinois, I never dropped out of the top three.
Mr. Carmichael, my homeroom teacher, even bet I’d land a spot at Harvard.
That’s why, when the so-called academic dishonesty scandal broke, most of my classmates and teachers stood by me.
I had won writing competitions before—I had no reason to cheat and plagiarize.
But then, Clive leaked the security footage from the testing room.
The video showed that he turned in his paper 10 minutes before I did.
And before the test, he had posted his own “essay predictions” on his blog, breaking down the exact topic and themes.
His essay followed the exact structure of his earlier post.
For a while, the netizens’ nasty comments almost drowned me.
[It’s caught in 4K! Denzel Witt straight-up stole Clive’s work! The evidence is undeniable, and that cheater still pretends he’s a victim?!]
[I heard that that liar has always aced his class. Guess all his grades before were just stolen work that went unnoticed!]
[Thank god his own sister and best friend didn’t cover for him. Imagine letting the real victim take the fall!]
The scandal blew up so fast that it became trending.
The College Board took this matter seriously and immediately launched an investigation, analyzing the evidence Clive presented.
After verification, the surveillance footage and blog posts were proven authentic, with no signs of tampering.
They concluded that I was indeed a cheater and plagiarist.
I was completely blindsided.
I swear to god that essay was mine! How the hell was I the one who copied?
But I had no proof to defend myself.
And what I couldn’t figure out was—how did Clive’s essay turn out exactly like mine?
Did the essay prompts that Charlize predicted somehow get to him?
Mystery after mystery surrounded me.
But right now, Charlize and Geena weren’t acting suspicious.
If I wanted answers, I needed to start with Clive’s social media.
If I remembered correctly, his essay prediction post should have already been up.
But with Charlize and Geena keeping a close watch on me, I hastily scribbled down a rough outline of an essay to make myself look convincing, then clutched my stomach.
“I… I need to use the bathroom,” I muttered.
Geena shot me an unimpressed look. “Seriously? You still have a lot to study, Denny. Charlize basically handed you the potential topics, and you’re still looking for ways to slack off?”
Charlize quickly waved my friend off. “Hey, there’s still time; give him a break. As long as he follows my advice, he’ll do well.”
But I didn’t have much time to uncover the truth.
Once inside the bathroom, I locked the door and pulled up Clive’s blog profile.
It was well-known that his parents were professors at Harvard, and thanks to his looks and connections, he had a decent online following.
I never really had much connection with Clive.
But Charlize was a teaching assistant at Harvard and Stanford, so she had met Clive a few times.
Once, I overheard her telling Geena that Clive was the definition of boyfriend material—unlike me, who was just a bookish nerd.
My sister also said that if Geena were going to date someone, it should be a guy like Clive—wealthy and good-looking.
At the time, I thought Charlize was just joking.
But looking back now, maybe she actually meant it.
Even so, I still couldn’t understand—why would someone like Clive, practically born with a silver spoon, go out of his way to screw me over?
Just then, I saw his latest post on his blog.
He claimed he had predicted the essay topics for the SAT and was sharing it with everyone.
The moment I saw it, I froze.
That was the exact topic Charlize had predicted for me!
On top of that, Clive even posted his own so-called “unique” insights about it.
Word for word, they were identical to the notes I had casually jotted down on my scratch paper.
The comments were full of people hyping him up.
[Damn, not only is he hot, but he’s also insanely smart and generous! He even shares his SAT predictions with everyone! What a true angel!]
[Seriously! If I saw this topic on the test, I would’ve gone completely blank. Good thing I read his analysis in advance!]
Predicting the same topic might just be a coincidence.
But how could his essay outline be exactly the same as mine?
The only people who had been in my study room were Charlize and Geena.
It had to be them!
A chill ran down my spine at that thought.
I couldn’t wrap my head around why they would do this.
Was blood and years of friendship really worth less than knowing Clive for just half a year?
I sat on the toilet for an hour, thinking it over.
Then I made up my mind—I had to take a different approach.
I already knew the essay topic for this year’s SAT.
In my last life, I got accused of plagiarism, but that essay was actually my best work.
It scored high, but not a perfect score.
This time, I was going to write the essay in Old English.
Since Clive’s essay had been an exact copy of mine in my last life, I’d just rewrite the whole damn thing!
No matter the final score, at least I could shake off the plagiarism accusations.
Early the next morning, before Charlize woke up, I snuck out and went to Grandma’s place.
To be honest, I was hesitant.
Writing my SAT essay in Old English was not only ridiculously hard but also a huge gamble.
The moment I arrived, Grandma handed me a bowl of oatmeal.
“My sweet boy, what’s wrong? You look troubled.”
I forced a bitter smile.
“Grandma, if I don’t get into Harvard, are you gonna be disappointed?”
She patted my head, her eyes full of warmth.
“Silly boy, of course not!
“I just want you to be happy, Denny. Even if you don’t get in, you still have me. I’ll take care of you.”
Hearing those words, my resolve hardened.
As I left Grandma’s place, I got a call from Charlize.
“Denny, where the hell did you go? Geena brought you breakfast, but you weren’t there. Now she’s upset!”
I replied flatly, “I went out to buy some study materials. I’ll be back soon.”
I wasn’t planning on telling them about my new essay strategy.
After all, they were the prime suspects in the plagiarism scandal last time.
Instead, I headed to the library to rework my essay plan.
It was also the perfect place to do some research.
After hours of writing, I stretched and leaned back for a quick break.
I was curious—what would happen to Clive this time?
Just as I was lost in thought, Charlize and Geena walked in.
I was a little confused—How did they know I was here?
The next second, Charlize placed a warm lunchbox on my desk.
“Figured you’d be too caught up studying to eat, so I brought you something.”
Meanwhile, Geena handed me a cup.
“Coffee. Your stomach’s weak, so it’s decaf.”
Their sincerity was written all over their faces. They didn’t look like they meant any harm.
Had I been overthinking things?
But if it wasn’t them… then who?
My mind was a mess, but I managed to squeeze out a smile.
“Perfect timing! I was just getting hungry. Let me wash my hands first, then I’ll dig in.”
With that, I grabbed my phone and headed to the restroom.
But instead of going into the men’s room, I stopped by the sinks and opened Clive’s Facebook blog.
Sure enough, he had a new post.
[Guys, you won’t believe it. When I shared my predicted essay topics for the SAT, someone straight-up copied my outline! The predictions might not even be right, but that’s just nasty. Anyways, I’m reworking my entire essay plan.]
Attached was a photo of a guy studying in the library.
Anyone familiar with me could tell—that was my silhouette!
Just who on Earth took that photo?!
In the comments, someone asked what Clive’s new essay plan was.
Clive replied. [I’d write it in Old English this time.]
I froze.
I hadn’t told anyone I was planning to write in Old English!
Even if it was just a coincidence, why would Clive choose a style he wasn’t even good at?
There had to be a spy around me!
Was it Charlize? Was it Geena?
Or… were they both in on it?
But why? What were they after?
Just then, someone patted me on the back.
“Denny, what are you thinking about?”
That scared the hell out of me.
It was Charlize and Geena.
Since I hadn’t returned, they’d come to check on me, worried something was wrong.
Still on edge, I brushed them off.
“Uh, you guys go ahead. I’ll eat in a bit.”
The moment the words left my mouth, Geena immediately snapped, “Denzel, we went out of our way to bring you food, and this is how you act?
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed—you’ve been acting all suspicious around us these past few days! Seriously, it’s like we’re being treated like enemies!”
Charlize quickly stepped in, “Geena just has a sharp tongue but a soft heart—don’t take it personally.
“We know you’re under a lot of pressure. We just wanted to look out for you.”
I quickly replied, “I know you guys mean well. Maybe I should just stay in my dorm for the next few days. Save you the trouble of coming back and forth.”
Geena rolled her eyes.
“Fine, do whatever you want. It’s not like I enjoy babysitting you anyway!”
With that, she dragged Charlize, and they stormed out of the library’s study room.
Finally, I let out a breath of relief.
At 10:30 PM, I returned to the dorm.
The moment I walked in, I heard my roommates talking about Clive.
I went over to take a look.
They were looking at a photo—three hands holding up drinks in a toast.
The caption read: [Love from my sisters!]
I recognized those hands instantly—Charlize’s and Geena’s.
Since when were they this close?
And why didn’t I know about it?
I pulled out my phone to check Clive’s Facebook friends.
But I Charlize’s and Geena’s comments on his new update caught my attention first.
[You will always be my number-one heartthrob!]
[Don’t worry, Clive. We’ll make sure you top the SAT!]
I blinked, doubting my own eyes.
But the moment I refreshed the page, the post was gone.
Now I know—the plagiarism really was connected to them.
Reaching that conclusion didn’t stir much emotion in me. As long as I knew who was responsible, handling it would be easy.
Besides, I had no plans to go home before the college entrance exams. Without me around, they wouldn’t be able to help Clive plagiarize anymore.
I could finally focus on studying.
Or so I thought—until I groggily woke up in the middle of the night to see Atlas Carlisle from the bed next to mine tiptoeing as he sneaked through my notes.
I snapped awake, my voice sharp with anger.
“Dude! What the hell are you doing?!”
Startled, he fumbled and dropped the notebook to the floor.
“The hell are you yelling for? Don’t think I don’t know—you’re the one who copied Clive’s work!
“Sharing a dorm with a plagiarist like you? It’s disgusting!
“Dude, you’re already being nice by not kicking you out. And now you’re here yelling at me? Damn, you really are uneducated.”
Turns out, Clive had deliberately led his followers to dig up my personal information and post it in the comments section.
Within moments, I was drowning in an onslaught of insults!
Even my socials were flooded with harsh comments.
Some guy even stuffed a dead rat into my food delivery!
With no other choice, I turned to Mr. Carmichael.
In my last life, when I was falsely accused of plagiarism, he was the one who stood up for me, rallying my classmates to stand up for me.
Though we ultimately failed back then, he was the only person I could turn to now.
As soon as he learned of my situation, he immediately arranged a private study room for me to prepare for the exams in peace.
I could deal with everything else later.
Finally, that damn Old English essay I had been working on was complete.
The SAT was in two days—all I had to do was write it out on the test paper.
I let out a long breath of relief—only for Clive to drop another bombshell.
[Just a little secret between us,] his latest post read. [I finished my Old English essay!]
The attached photo was a blurred-out notebook page.
But even with the censoring, I recognized the last few lines of the essay immediately.
They were identical to what I had just written!
And worse—his post had gone up 10 minutes before I finished mine!
I completely lost it, ripping my notebook to shreds.
Was I seriously doomed to be plagiarized in every lifetime?
Dammit! I just wanted to give up!
Then, out of nowhere, my teacher called.
[Congratulations, Mr. Witt! You got an early admission to Harvard!]
That meant… I didn’t even have to take the SAT!
Seeing the news, my exhaustion vanished in an instant.
I didn’t know why things changed in this life, and honestly, I didn’t care anymore.
With this guaranteed admission in my hands, I was going to make sure Clive, the serial plagiarist, paid for what he did!
I told no one about my admission or that I wouldn’t be taking the exam.
The night before the test, I revised my essay one last time.
Clive really enjoyed cheating and plagiarising, huh?
Fine. This time, I’d let him steal my work to his heart’s content.
When the final test ended, he was the first to walk out of the hall.
Outside, a massive crowd had gathered, including a few live-streaming influencers.
As soon as he stepped out, they rushed up to him.
“Hey, you look pretty confident! Bet you did great, huh?”
Before he could answer, Geena chimed in.
“Of course! He’s our class genius, our top student! He even guessed the essay topic correctly!”
The livestream chat blew up, full of praise, saying he was definitely getting into Harvard.
Clive grinned in satisfaction—until a group of cops suddenly stormed in and cuffed him on the spot.
“Mr. Smolett, you’ve been reported for involvement in illegal activities. Please come with us and cooperate for the investigation.”
↓ ↓ Download the NovelShort app, Search 【 576744 】reads the whole book. ↓ ↓
NovelShort
