Be the Girl

The prom joke was actually Denise’s idea but I readily jumped. At the time, I thought I was so lucky to have such good friends. Only after did I see us for what we really were—a pack of rabid wolves, feeding off each other’s innate ugliness.

“We didn’t know her.” We didn’t know that she had a learning disability—not a serious one, but one that had fed the chip she wore on her shoulder and a steady cloud of depression. We didn’t know that there was a thick folder from Children’s Services attached to her address, thanks to years of alcoholism and verbal abuse from her family. We didn’t know—but we suspected—that Julia didn’t have a single person she could call a friend, that she could talk to.

Julia was just the sour-faced girl who lived in a ramshackle house by the train tracks in town, who came to school in cheap clothes and greasy hair. She was the one who went after me for talking to the guy she was crushing hard on, and in our eyes, she deserved all the rumors spinning, all the laughter, the rejection.

And then she killed herself.

“And she didn’t know you, either.” Ms. Moretti’s face fills with sympathy. “Ms. Forester sent me the video that Julia made and let float around, of you talking to that boy.”

I shouldn’t be surprised that they’d kept a record of that. “It came out about a month after I found out that my dad had this secret family.” I went from a semi-obscure ninth grader to a punch line overnight, while my family was falling apart.

“I’ll bet those daddy-issue jokes she made hit you pretty hard.”

“I assumed she somehow knew what was going on. It felt like an attack.”

And so I struck back, again and again, with the help of my loyal friends. My home had splintered and I had no control over it. But making Julia pay for using it against me made me feel better.

Ironically, everything she dubbed into that video likely stemmed from her own family issues.

Things changed swiftly after Julia Morrow killed herself. Students who freely joined in on the ostracizing, on the “Julia Morrow has scabies, pass it on” type rumors—many that my friends and I hadn’t even started—were suddenly weeping for this girl who had been bullied and killed herself. We were suspended for two days, for the prom-proposal joke, but that’s as far as our official punishment went.

That’s when the unofficial punishment began. It started with a private message in my filtered IG folder, telling me I’m a bitch. It quickly escalated to dozens of messages a day, calling me everything from ugly to skank to whore. Anonymous notes were stuffed into my locker, one of them giving me instructions on the best ways to kill myself. All little acts of retribution, from people who felt justified.

The final straw was the day someone gave me a shove as I was climbing the stairs. I tumbled. Fortunately, all I ended up with was a broken ankle.

Unfortunately, my scattered things—along with the note on how to kill myself—were picked up by a teacher, who then showed it to the principal, who then called my mother.

She had no idea what was going on. I hadn’t told her.

“I still think about her a lot. Julia, I mean.” About all the things I should have said and done. I wasn’t fake like Holly is; I didn’t pick on kids for the sake of picking on them. But that doesn’t mean I was any better than her, the way I behaved, bolstered by my friends or not.

“You still feel guilty.” It’s not a question.

I nod, my eyes stinging with tears. “I would do anything to change to past. But I can’t.”

“No, you can’t. You can only learn from your mistakes.” Ms. Moretti sighs heavily. “The school suspension will likely be for two days. And I have no choice but to remove you from the cross-country team. Both you and Holly.”

I nod, studying my hands. “I get it.”

“I wish you had come to me right away, Aria. Maybe we could’ve avoided all of this.”

“I went to Ms. Forester once.” I grimace at the memory. “She wasn’t much help.” She told me to delete my social media accounts and reflect on why people might be doing this to me. In short, she told me I deserved it.

And I believed her.

I still believe her.

A knock sounds and the door creaks open.

I take a deep breath before I turn to face the shame and disappointment in my mother’s eyes.





24





Dear Julia,

I lied to you before. You know, when I told you that Emmett knew what happened in Calgary. Well, technically I lied to ME, seeing as you can’t read this. At least, I don’t think you can, but maybe you are somewhere nearby. Maybe you’re haunting me. I’d deserve that, wouldn’t I?

Dr. C. warned me to not lie in here and I know why now—I actually fooled myself for a second there into thinking all would be okay. But the truth is, I’d rather be you than who I used to be, because that girl? I don’t know her anymore. I don’t want to know her anymore. I wish I could erase her. Julia, you have no idea how much I wish I could go back and change what I did to you. I may not have realized that until people started harassing me, but walk a mile in someone else’s shoes and all that, right? Emmett asked if you ever apologized for making that shitty video of me talking to Jeff Humphrey. Did you ever wish you had? I don’t know how much it would have helped, to be honest. I was in a dark place then. But now? Julia, if you apologized to me now, I would accept it and move on.

Another truth? I’d punch Holly all over again for what she did to Cassie, and not feel bad about it. So, does that mean I haven’t really changed at all? Is new Aria just old Aria but with a shred of empathy and misfit friends?

Mom has taken away my phone, canceled plans for my driver’s license test, and booked an appointment with Dr. Zanelli, my new therapist. Dr. Z. from here on in. Beyond that, she said she needed time to think, so she sent me to my room and told me not to come out until Murphy needs a walk. But I just watched her head down the sidewalk with him so …

Maybe I can just hide in here forever.

~AJ





My stomach is a ball of nerves as I trek past Emmett’s Santa Fe and up the walkway toward the Hartfords’ front door, Murphy hobbling beside me.

Cassie is the first to the door. “Oh, hi, AJ!” she exclaims. It’s as if the drama with Holly never happened. But I know better than to assume that.

“Hey, Cassie, how are you?”

“Good. Well …” Her face scrunches up. “Not so good. My mom knows about the cookie with drugs that Adam gave me and that you punched Holly in the nose.”

What must Heather and Mark think about me now?

“Was there a lot of blood?”

I nod. “There was.”

“Is Holly okay?”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“Yeah. Hi, Murphy!” She turns her attention to him. Though, I note, I got a few minutes first. That’s progress.

Footfalls pound down the stairs and a minute later Emmett appears, his jaw clenched as he takes me in.

I shrink into my jacket under that gaze. As much as I came to check on Cassie, he’s the real reason I came. But now that I’m facing him, I want to go home and delay the inevitable. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He chews his bottom lip a moment. “Cass, go help Mom. I need to talk to AJ alone.”

“About how much trouble you’re in?”

He sighs heavily. “And other things.”

“Bye, Murph! See you later!” She waves and then strolls off, her heels heavy against the floor.

“Give me a sec.” Emmett disappears to the mud room for his coat and shoes.

I lead Murphy toward the row of shrubs at the edge of the Hartford property. Next to Uncle Merv’s rosebush, this is his favorite pee spot.

Emmett meets me on the sidewalk, drawing his zipper closed against the night chill.

“How’s your hand?”

I peer at the red knuckles. “Not broken, at least.”

“Why’d you hit her?”

“For what she did to Cassie.”

He nods. And then a tiny smirk curls his lips. “Wish I’d stayed long enough to see that.”

I smile. At least he’s making jokes.

The amusement evaporates just as quickly. “You lied to me. You let me think that you tried to kill yourself.”

“I’m sorry.” What more is there to say?