Their words were supposed to sting, but I found them amusing. Jennifer stood by, listening. Did she feel even a twinge of guilt since the barbs were meant for her?

Sadly, she did not.

Her face was a mask of smug satisfaction.

The tutor and my classmates stood frozen, utterly bewildered.

My parents jabbed their fingers at me, their voices rising in accusation as they said, "This girl is not Ella. She's our other daughter, Jennifer! She's green with envy over Ella's acceptance into a prestigious school, and now she's trying to steal her identity!"

All eyes in the classroom turned to me.

Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head. "No, it's not true. You guys have to believe me. I'm Ella! My parents wanted me to switch places with my twin sister, but I refused. They wouldn't take no for an answer!"

My dad marched up to me and delivered a stinging slap across my face.

"Spouting lies in front of everyone? Enough with your lies. You're my daughter. Do you think I can't tell you apart?"

The lecturer, having grasped the whole story, spoke with a steady voice.

"On the first day, we had the students' fingerprints recorded, which had to match the exam records for enrollment. Back then, Ella was the real deal.

"Let's just recheck your fingerprints now, and we'll see the truth."

Jennifer's eyes brimmed with sudden tears.

"It's no use. Jennifer destroyed our fingerprints to take my spot at the school. Now, both of us are without fingerprints!"

The lecturer's brow creased as he looked from me to Jennifer and back again.

My parents reached out, pleading with the tutor, saying, "As parents, how could we not recognize our own child?

"The one sitting over there is an imposter. That's Jennifer. The real Ella is right here with us."

The lecturer's expression shifted subtly.

My classmates started nodding.

"If even her parents say so, then the girl who's in class with us has to be the fake."

"I can't believe how confidently she lies. She's got nerves of steel."

"Nerves of steel? More like shameless. If we had skin that thick, we'd be unstoppable."

Jennifer strutted over to me, a triumphant grin on her face. "Time to slink back to your junior college, don't you think?"

My parents barged in, yanked me up without so much as a word, and dragged me out of my seat.

I could feel the contempt from my classmates burning into me; not one of them stood up for me or lent a hand.

The lecturer called the security, and before I knew it, I was out on the street, school gates clanging shut behind me.

With no place to turn, I found myself at Jennifer's junior college.

Stepping onto campus, I caught the weird glances thrown my way.

Some private snaps of Jennifer cozying up to Nelson Brown had hit the school's online forum.

In those shots, Jennifer and Nelson were up to no good, playing games that made them look less like students and more like the main characters in explicit films.

The debacle at my school? Already viral, thanks to a classmate's video.

Jennifer's good name? Trashed.

Unfortunately, I was Jennifer then.

All that disgust, all that scorn, all the rage: it was all coming down on me.

"Jennifer's got no shame, taking pictures like that at her age."

"She's gotta be crawling with something nasty, with all the dirt she's rolling in."

"I knew it, I caught a whiff of something foul off her."

"Seen the latest gossip? She tried to pull a fast one at her sister's school, acting like she could swap her junior college spot for her sister's well-known university seat."

"Man, some people just make your skin crawl."

My dorm mates were knocking on the lecturer's door, begging for a room switch.

Classmates would see me and steer clear, treating me like I was contagious.

The lecturer? They were not exactly rolling out the welcome mat after the mess that I had supposedly caused.

"You were supposed to be a project, you know? Average grades, but the school had big plans for you.

"And what did you do? Get caught up in some photo scandal. Then you went and made a fool of yourself at a well-known university.

"Now, there's not a soul here who'd bunk with you. What's your brilliant plan now? You've got a real talent for stirring up trouble!"

I got why she was mad.

I mulled it over for a sec, and then I said, "Guess I'll skip the dorm life."

"Skip the dorm? You want to blow more cash having a blast outside?"

I managed a wry smile. "There's this little eatery near campus. I can snag a gig there and crash in their kitchen at night.

"Don't sweat it. I won't cause any trouble. If you're worried, feel free to video check on me anytime."

I was about to bounce when the lecturer showed a soft spot. "You should probably report those pictures to the cops. It's not good, leaving them up."

I just laughed and shook my head. "Nah, let them be."

Those pictures were not of me, anyway.

I would set the record straight someday.

No classes meant I was at the snack shop, hustling.

At night, I would curl up in the sweltering kitchen, drenched in sweat, on a bed so cramped I could barely roll over.

The lady who ran the place took pity on me and tossed a few extra bucks my way. I was thankful, especially since my parents had cut me off, hoping I would come crawling back.

They wanted to keep me on a tight leash.

However, my heart had iced over. I just dove into my books even harder.

Jennifer, Ella, whatever name I went by did not matter.

I was determined to rock the life ahead of me, no matter the label.

After four years of grinding, I made it to college, nailed my undergrad, and aimed for grad school.

When Kingsford University's grad acceptance hit my hands, I lost it, tears and all.

However, even there, some still pegged me as the chick who tried to swipe her sister's spot and got tagged with some nasty rep.

Everyone in my class ghosted me.

Even the lunch lady gave my tray the side-eye, dousing it with alcohol like I was toxic.

Luckily, my advisor saw my potential and assured me she was not swayed by idle gossip; only hard results mattered to her.

Night after night, we toiled away in the lab, meticulously crunching numbers.

We were on the brink of a national breakthrough, backed by a hefty investment.

Any slip-up could spell disaster for us, even land us behind bars. However, if we nailed it, I would be on the fast track to glory.

Exhausted, I stepped out of the lab when my parents' call jolted me.

"Get home now!"

I knew instantly what they were plotting.

Jennifer had weaseled her way into a top university, but her old habits died hard; she played hooky more than she hit the books.

Predictably, she flunked out, diploma-less after four wasted years. Then, with no prospects, she was slinging burgers and fries.

That kind of grind would break her spirit in no time.

So, she had her sights set on me again.

She wanted to trade her greasy spoon gig for my grad student grind.

I hung up and eyed the calendar.

In 36 hours, my advisor and I would unveil our findings.

A steely resolve took hold of me.

If they would not back off, I would have to hand it all to Jennifer, every last bit of my hard-earned success and the mess she had made.

With a heavy heart, I spilled my guts to my advisor.

Her face ran the gamut from shock to fury, then settled on a look of deep compassion.

"You do what you need to do," she said. "I've got your back."

I nodded, my throat tight, and after ordering some custom glasses with a hidden camera, I boarded the train home.

Before stepping inside, I flicked on the glasses' secret eye.