I spin around, holding the paper high in the air. “Who did this?” My chest puffs out as I force myself to breathe. I don’t have the patience for this sick joke today. Not after what happened at the house.
Eyes dart away, no one wanting to admit to this horrendous prank.
That’s what it is. A prank. I’ve never sat in Myles’s car before. The girl in the picture isn’t me.
It’s Mallory.
Anger bubbles up in my chest, a lump rising to my throat and choking me when I try to speak. “Tell me!” I yell, voice cracking. It snaps like a dead branch being stepped on. A crack runs down into my core, piercing through the emotions I’ve tried to suppress.
I’ve never been good at sharing my feelings, and I’ve spent the last year acting like these people couldn’t hurt me. I ignored the rumors circling the school about Mallory’s death, but this is too much.
My stomach lurches at the sight of Myles in the photo.
I tear it into pieces, ripping up his face and scattering the pieces on the floor.
More students crowd me, surrounding me like an amphitheater, and I’m waiting for someone to be brave enough to step into the ring as my opponent. I want to scream into the face of the person who had the audacity to vandalize my locker.
My eyes burn, but I dig deeper into my anger to stop the hot tears from falling.
There are whispers floating toward me from every direction and the hair on my arms stands up.
“Are the rumors true?”
“Maybe she’s the one who did it?”
“What is she lying about?”
The words fill my head like helium, expanding to the point I’m afraid my brain might explode if I have to spend another second listening to their taunts.
Mallory would know what to do in this situation. She’d maintain her temper and calmly start cleaning her locker. She’d act like it didn’t bother her, but then again, no one would dare do something like this to her. Why would they? Everyone had liked her. She was smart, the top of her class, and kind.
I take a breath, but it’s shaky.
This is what loneliness truly is. All of these people around me, questioning whether or not I’m lying. There isn’t a soul in this building who believes me. They’re convinced I lied about what I saw.
He pleaded guilty.
I am right. But everyone makes me feel like I’m a toddler throwing a tantrum.
What do they want me to do? Testify again?
Another whisper carries through the air. “Is that Sam?”
I choke, lungs depleting of air, and freeze.
Samir.
The friend Myles replaced me with.
He shouldn’t be here. He was in the same senior class as Mallory and Myles, and he graduated last year.
I scan the hallway and spot his tall stature and dark hair poking up.
“Get out of the way!” I yell, pushing my way through the crowd.
He starts running, but I refuse to let him get away with this. He never believed the truth, not then and apparently not now. But this is too far. This is wrong. Isn’t my life messed up enough? Myles is the bad guy here, not me. If Samir wants to be angry with someone, it should be him.
Students move out of the way as I charge through the hallway toward the entrance. I barge through the tall wooden doors in a rage. I don’t care that people are watching anymore. I just want to catch him.
