Nope. There was no coming back from this.
Mrs. Templeton was grinning, her smile so wide, her wrinkles at her eyes crinkly, and a dab of maroon lipstick stuck to her front tooth. She looked between Brooks and me.
I didn’t dare look at Brooks.
“You’re from Minnesota, aren’t you?” She pressed for more explanation. “Not North Carolina.”
Brooks cleared his throat, evidently confused. “Right. I’ve never been to North Carolina.”
“I must’ve gotten that fact confused.” Mrs. Templeton turned her attention to me. “But, how amazing it is that your boyfriend was able to move here to be near you! Now you can be together.” Her smile was warm, but her eyes were sharp.
Mrs. Templeton knew something was up.
I offered a wobbly smile in return.
“Boyfriend?” I heard Brooks say.
I didn’t dare look at him.
A low chuckle. “That’s not possible,” he concluded. “She thinks I’m a Cubs fan, and she said we can’t even be friends.”
It had been the longest study hall ever. As soon as the bell rang, I shot out of my seat, avoiding Mrs. Templeton’s knowing gaze and definitely avoiding Brooks. I needed to find a place to hide so I could think. I had one more class before school was out. Just one. If I could make it through, then I’d be free and I could call Lia and we could figure out what to do about this.
I hurried down the hall, my Converse shoes slipping on the linoleum floor. I knew what I had to do, without talking to Lia. I mean, the fix was simple. I fessed up to everyone I’d told about Brooks—which was mainly Jenessa and Claire and some of the other girls who were always hassling me about boys. I needed to fess up to my aunts too—although that didn’t seem as pressing at the moment. But how did I do any of that? How did I explain myself? The process of AI images and using my imagination was easy to explain, but thewhybehind faking Brooks Mason? Just saying that I wanted people off my back about me being sixteen and boyfriendless seemed . . . weak. Even to myself. It wasn’t a strong motivation to do something so . . . dumb. What had seemed like a stroke of innocent brilliance even twenty-four hours ago now seemed like middle school drama.
Fine. I skidded to a halt in front of the water fountain and bent to take a drink of the cold water. I’d just come clean. It was that simple. Really, everyone would probably just laugh. I’d go back to being pestered about loving books and baseball over boys, but I could own that! Icould! I didn’t need to be like every other girl. I didn’t need to date. I wasn’t defined by a guy. I was Brielle Walters, bookworm, Brewers fan, lover of One Direction, and devoted to my faith. I didn’t need to be anything else.
I would tell the truth.
I would come clean.
I would—
“Brielle!” Jenessa’s squeal startled me and I spit water back into the fountain. Straightening, I wiped my mouth on my sweatshirt sleeve as Jenessa came bobbing toward me waving her phone in her hand. “Omigoshyou’reblowingup!”
It all came out in one word, and I had no idea what Jenessa was talking about.
“Brielle!” Another squeal behind me.
Claire.
I was sandwiched between both of my pseudo-friends who both had their phones out and were both thumbing their screens.
“You’re going Driftwood High viral!” Claire gasped.
“I’m what?” You know that hollow pit you get in your stomach when what you thought was going to be an easy fix suddenly becomes ominous? Like a zombie flying at you with drooling teeth, followed by Frankenstein’s monster? And you know you’re doomed, and you’re not even sure why yet?
“Look!” Jenessa shoved her phone in my face.
I saw it then. Post after post after post. Someone had taken my AI likeness of Brooks Mason, which I’d texted to my small group of friends two weeks ago, and stitched a video montage of pictures of me taken throughout the school year. It was set to a trending song—notOne Direction, unfortunately—and had been shared. Over one hundred and twenty times.
Book girl gets a swing and a hit!
The catch of the year!
Another of Driftwood High’s single ladies is taken!
Those were three of the comments I could see before Jenessa snatched her phone back from my face. She swiped with her finger, practically doing a hip-hop dance in front of me.
