When I was growing up, all that I wanted was to be my cousin Sasha for a day. The same age as me, Sasha was always more beautiful and more vivacious. She was always the one charming her way in and out of everything. While the rest of us got surly waiters, parking fines and speeding tickets, Sasha batted her eyelashes and all her problems went away. It was infuriating!
But one thing Sasha had always been, was mean. When we were young, she taunted me with her cool toys, much better than mine, and wouldn’t let me play with them. And when we got older, she sneered at my sense of fashion — sometimes the only clothes my parents could afford — and constantly reminded me that she was prettier, and therefore — she used to say — had a better future ahead of her. For a long time I believed this too, and I was so jealous. I couldn’t wait for the day I could move out of our small country town, and not have to see her almost every day, to be reminded of how perfect she seemed to be.
The one thing Sasha was not, however, was very bright. Throughout high school she jeered at me for my studious habits and good grades, and all of her friends bullied me. But by the time we had reached our final exams in Year 12, she was almost failing. In the actual exams, she was going to need to pull off a miracle to get a decent overall matriculation score.
For the first time in our lives, I had something to hold over her: I was fairly confident that I would get top marks in everything. Not that I boasted about it though, that was her style, not mine. But I should have seen what Sasha was going to do about it.
The week before exams commenced, Sasha demanded that I help her cram. I couldn’t believe what she was asking; I had my own exams to study for! I curtly told her that she had made her own bed, and now she could lie in it. But when she got her parents, and even mine, behind her, I knew I was going to have to do what she asked. I angrily agreed to give her two hours of each day to tutor her, knowing that it would probably turn into four hours. But I also knew that I was going to make her pay!
Each day, when Sasha came around to my house, I gave her the wrong information. For English, I made up characters and plot lines; for maths, I incorrectly coached her in how to figure out sums; for history and science, I made up events, dates and formulas. At first I thought she must catch on, but it quickly became clear that Sasha hadn’t been paying any attention at all for the whole of Year 12, and she lapped up my information eagerly. I almost felt guilty, but then I would remember how selfish she was actually being — had always been — and I couldn’t wait for her to get what she deserved.
The exams came and went, with Sasha confident that she had done well. You can imagine everyone’s disappointment, and her shock, when the results came out — Sasha had basically failed everything! I waited to be fingered for the blame, but Sasha’s parents just accused her of slacking off too much, and figured it was too late to start studying right at the end. I was completely off the hook!
After that, I went to uni and Sasha finally managed to get a job, although she never became the big thing she always imagined she would. And when I drive past her house in my expensive car, bought from my fantastic job at which I work very hard, I try not to honk the horn too loud as I remember that I sabotaged her exam results!
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