*
Coming out of the library, I ran straight into Jackson. Plowed into him was the better term. My stack of books slammed into Jackson’s solid wall of a chest and his hands steadied my elbows.
Our eyes met and I silently willed him to let me go. He’d opened his mouth to speak when the squeal of the school intercom echoed through the hallway and the principal’s voice bounced off the walls.
“I need the following students to come to the main office: Oliver Baldwin, Jackson Hall, Anderson Thompson, and Hayden Perkins.”
Our eyes remained glued and his hands clenched my elbows. I swallowed and said, “I’m so sorry,” before breaking away and going the other direction.
I didn’t look back and spent the rest of the day with the cold dread knowing the guys were in trouble because of me. I sat on my bed that night, books open, but staring at the ceiling. My mother watched TV downstairs. She begged me to sit with her but I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Breathing, that was the best I could manage.
The following day, rumors swirled around school again. That the boys had been arrested. That they started the Fakestagram. That I had a restraining order out on them. That I was pregnant, had no idea who the father of the baby was, and leaving the school for the Sisters of Quiet Mercy over Christmas break.
I let them bounce off of me, like hail raining down on the rooftop; dinging me and damaging me one tiny hit at a time. I ducked into my new refuge, the seldom-used bathroom next to the library, wanting away from the constant whispering. I was surprised to find Amber at the sink again. This time she wore a shirt with “The Notorious RBG” and a profile of Ruth Bader Ginsberg.
She coated her eyelashes with mascara and said suddenly, “I feel like it’s my obligation to ask…did you consent to this relationship with them?”
“Yeah, definitely.” My cheeks flushed. “They’re really great guys.”
“I believe you. I just wanted to make sure you were in charge.” I never thought of it that way, but I was in charge. They let me take the lead on almost everything in our relationship. It didn’t matter if Amber believed me or not, but it was nice to know someone had my back. “Any idea who’s behind this Fakestagram?”
I shook my head but that wasn’t entirely the truth. A pattern had started to emerge and a few clues. A few possible suspects but I had no proof. Did it matter anyway? The guys had already taken the fall. If I said something, would it make it worse? The last thing any of us needed was another target on our back.
“Can you meet me back here after 4th period?” she asked.
I frowned. “I guess.”
She gave me a swift nod. “Good. See you then.”
I watched her leave the room, the heavy brown door swinging shut. By accident, I caught my reflection in the mirror and flinched. Holy shit, I looked bad. Hair messy. Dark circles under my eyes. My clothes sloppy and depressing.
I looked like I felt. Something to cast away and ignore.
*
Even though it was an unspoken punishment, the library did turn into a sort of sanctuary. The assholes that harassed me all day didn’t cross the threshold, probably worried they’d burst into flames if they gained a little knowledge. I’d always been a reader—a coping skill I’d learned while struggling with my dark days—so after I finished my lunch, I combed the aisles looking for something to pass the time.
I picked through the books, eyeing some of the more popular series that’d come out lately, avoiding the romances that my heart couldn’t bear. Not right now. I didn’t hear the footsteps on the soft carpet or see the shadow until it fell over the white book pages.
“Heaven, fancy seeing you here.”
Exhausted and worn out, I didn’t even look up at Mark’s greeting. He leaned against the bookshelf, taking up most of the aisle. I ignored him, hoping he’d leave, but after a few minutes it was obvious he had no intention of going away.
I snapped a book shut and shoved it back into place. “What do you want?”
He smiled, slow and toothy. “I heard you were single again. Thought maybe you’d be up for that date we kept trying to plan.”
“Yeah, no thanks.” I rolled my eyes and moved in the direction of the tables, away from the isolated stacks. My exhaustion overruled all other emotions until another shadow blocked my exit and familiar beady eyes held mine. Spencer stood with his hands on both shelves.
“Or maybe a double date,” Mark added, nodding to his friend. “Since you’re into more than one guy at a time.”
Every piece of hair on my neck rose, spreading straight down my spine. “Fuck both of you,” I said.
Mark’s eyes lit up and he grabbed his crotch. “That’s what I’m talking about. Name a time and place.”
At the same time, both boys moved toward me, trapping me in the middle of the stacks. I saw the intent in their eyes—both furious I’d rejected them.