IT’S ONLY THE third day of my senior year and today already ranks as one of the worst three days of my life. The first being yesterday, the second one belonging to seventh grade, the third is award-winning today.
Reagan slides a tray of food in front of me. There’s plenty on it—pizza, a hamburger, French fries—but there is not an ounce of me that is hungry. She volunteered to stand in line and buy lunch for the three of us while Addison and I claimed the outside picnic table as far from everyone else as possible.
“It’s just rumors.” Addison props her chin on my shoulder in an effort to draw my attention from my cell. “It’ll die down by tomorrow.”
It’s a sunny day. Enormous blue sky. White fluffy clouds. It’s hot, though, like sweat-through-my-shirt hot, and because of that, there are only a few people outside, which is why we chose to sit here for lunch. I need alone time to regroup.
I lower my head into my hands. “Todd posted Razor from the Terror is trying to screw Breanna Miller. Yes, I can see how this will die down by tomorrow.”
“Could be worse,” she says in a light voice. “They could be saying you are definitely screwing Razor. Everyone seems to have enough common sense to keep the rumors somewhat realistic.”
My head slips down farther and my fingers creep into my hair. If Kyle posts that picture, that is exactly the story that will be flying around. Breanna Miller: Reign of Terror slut. There are girls who have earned that title from rumors and they have never lived it down. Boys harass them. Girls ignore them. The world has such a double standard and girls are on the bottom of this filth-ridden pond.
“I’m sorry for not finding you faster,” Addison says. It’s the millionth time she’s apologized for the night at Shamrock’s. She thought she saw me go into the bathroom after I ran from Kyle, and she’d been waiting outside the stall. My best friend was shocked when someone else walked out and then she went into panic mode.
“It’s okay.” And it is. Maybe life would be different if she had found me before Razor did, but I don’t regret my time with him. I just hate Kyle.
Four more Bragger messages pop up. Because I’m a glutton for punishment, I click on the new messages, and sure enough, two of them involve me.
Lily @lilybear · 20 s
This morning was interesting. Is she sleeping with Razor from the Terror?
Because the use of pronouns and not my real name will mislead me to thinking the message isn’t about me. Blah...just blah.
Deke @deke575 · 10 s
Y’all crazy. Twenty dollars @breanna212 is tutoring his stupid ass and he tried something and Kyle came to her rescue.
My heart hurts. I went to the bar to find magic and I did find magic—magic that combusted into a curse when Kyle invaded my privacy by snapping a photo. No one deserves to have their private moments put on display and to be called names. It’s like we’ve regressed to age two and we all need to relearn basic kindergarten manners.
“Finally,” says Reagan as she sits across from me and Addison, obviously reading my cell. She doesn’t understand the term personal boundaries. “A reasonable explanation, plus points to Deke for at-mentioning you instead of talking about you like you aren’t watching the feed. I should totally accept his invitation to next week’s dance for that.”
“What are people saying?” I peer over at Reagan and she purses her lips.
Reagan’s small, but she’s full of personality. One of those people you know is there the moment she jazz-hands her way into a room. She’s shorter than me, shorter than most of the girls at school, but she’s runway pretty.
She befriended Addison and me in sixth grade and, I won’t lie, my relationship with her has had its share of ups and downs. Reagan is infatuated with drama. She’s like watching a busy little bee bouncing from flower to flower and Addison and I are the home-base hive.
Addison clicks her tongue in disgust at Reagan. “You’re a gossip. It’s a compulsion for you. We’re aware, so dish what you know.”
At least Reagan has the decency to fidget with her rings in guilt. “I didn’t really gossip about you, Bre, as much as I discussed your current situation so I could get an appropriate sampling of the thoughts of the student population.”
She’d make an excellent politician.
“I’ve considered buying you a muzzle,” Addison says.
Reagan flashes us her brilliant smile. “Put diamonds on that baby and I’m your girl. But I swear, I didn’t trash you.”
What she’s excluding is how she didn’t defend me, either, but that’s a part of Reagan I’ve had to learn to accept...or not accept. We’re friends, but we’ll never be close.
“What are people saying?” I ask again.