The note is waiting in Little Mei's locker.

Lin Mei sees it first. She is walking Little Mei to class, a habit she has developed over the past week, a habit that involves positioning herself between Little Mei and the rest of the world, a habit that makes her shoulders ache and her heart race and her mind scream with memories of every time she failed to protect herself.

The note is taped to the metal door. White paper. Red marker. The kind of marker that bleeds through cheap paper and leaves stains on fingers.

The words are simple. The words are cruel. The words are exactly the words that Lin Mei expected, because she has heard them before, in another life, in her real life, in the life where she was the one opening the locker and finding the note and pretending it didn't matter.

"Charity case thinks she's pretty now."

Little Mei stops walking. Her body goes still. Not the stillness of calm. The stillness of someone who has learned that movement attracts attention and attention attracts pain.

"Don't look at it," Lin Mei says. Her voice is calm. Her voice is a lie. Inside, she is shaking. Inside, she is sixteen again, standing in front of her own locker, reading words that someone wrote about her, words that confirmed what she already knew: she was nothing, she was nobody, she was a waste of space and air and life.

"It's about me," Little Mei says. Her voice is small. Her voice is resigned. "Isn't it?"

"It's about someone who's afraid of you," Lin Mei says. "That's what cruelty is. Fear wearing a mask."

She reaches for the note. She tears it down. She crumples it in her fist. The paper makes a sound like something dying.

"Who wrote it?" Little Mei asks.

"I know who wrote it," Lin Mei says. "And I'm going to talk to her."

"No." Little Mei's hand is on her arm. The grip is tight. The grip is desperate. "Please. Don't. It'll make it worse. It always makes it worse."

Lin Mei looks at her. At this girl who is her and is not her. At this girl who has learned the same lessons, who has absorbed the same poison, who believes that fighting back is the same as inviting more pain.

"Not this time," Lin Mei says. "This time, someone is fighting for you."

---

Wang Fang is at the center table in the cafeteria. She is eating sushi. She is laughing. She is surrounded by her planets, her satellites, her audience.

Lin Mei walks toward her. Her steps are measured. Her heartbeat is not. Her hands are in fists at her sides. She is not afraid. She is past afraid. She is something else. Something that forty-two years of living and dying and waking up again has taught her to be.

She stops in front of the table.

The laughter stops. The planets turn to look at her. Wang Fang looks up. Her expression is careful. Her expression is curious. Her expression is the face of someone who has never been challenged and doesn't know what to do with the unfamiliar feeling.

"Can I help you?" Wang Fang asks. Her voice is sweet. Her voice is poison.

"You left a note," Lin Mei says. Her voice is loud. Loud enough for the nearby tables to hear. Loud enough for the silence to spread. "In her locker. The red marker was a nice touch. Very dramatic."

Wang Fang's smile doesn't waver. But something in her eyes shifts. A crack in the mask. A glimpse of the person underneath.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Wang Fang says.

"Yes you do," Lin Mei says. "And here's what I know. I know that you look at her and you see something you don't have. I know that you look at her and you see someone who doesn't need your permission to exist. I know that you look at her and you're terrified, because deep down, in the place where you keep your real thoughts, you know that she is better than you. And you can't stand it."

The cafeteria is quiet now. The silence has spread. People are watching. People are listening. People are seeing something they have never seen before: Wang Fang, exposed.

"You don't know anything about me," Wang Fang says. Her voice is smaller now. Her voice is less certain.

"I know everything about you," Lin Mei says. "I know that your father pays for your grades. I know that your mother drinks. I know that you have never worked for anything in your life and you are terrified that one day, someone will find out that you're not special. That you're just a girl with money and a cruel mouth and nothing underneath."

Wang Fang stands up. Her chair scrapes against the floor. The sound is loud. Too loud.

"You can't talk to me like that," Wang Fang says.

"I just did," Lin Mei says. "And here's the thing. You can write all the notes you want. You can laugh and whisper and point. But it won't change what she is. And it won't change what you are."

She turns. She walks away. Her legs are shaking. Her hands are shaking. But she walks. She doesn't run. She doesn't look back.

Little Mei is standing at the edge of the cafeteria. Her eyes are wide. Her mouth is open. She is looking at Lin Mei like she has never seen her before.

"Why?" Little Mei asks. "Why did you do that?"

"Because someone should have done it for me," Lin Mei says. "And since no one did, I'm doing it for you."

Little Mei is quiet. The cafeteria noise returns, slowly, like water filling a hole. But something has changed. The air is different. The balance has shifted.

"She's going to hate you," Little Mei says.

"She already hated me," Lin Mei says. "Now she's just honest about it."

Little Mei almost smiles. It is not a real smile. But it is closer than before.

"You're crazy," Little Mei says.

"I know," Lin Mei says. "But I'm also right."