There it was. That defensive lift of her chin as though somehowI’doffendedher.
“Then who did? And why?” I asked.
Her chin lowered a bit. “J-Jenessa did.”
“That’s the who, now what about the why? I mean, this is my first day here. It’s not like everyone knows me, and yet that video made me feel a bit too established at Driftwood High.”
“Yeahhhhh,” Brielle coughed. “About that …”
“And that picture of me? It isn’t me.”
“It looks like you,” she countered.
“A little. Sure. Okay. But, anyone can tell it’s AI.”
“If theywantto look hard at it, sure.” She dragged out her words like she was going to try to justify something. “But if they want tobelieveit’s authentic, they will.”
“Fake news?” I jabbed with my question.
Her eyes just widened like she knew a secret. “Well…”
“Out with it.” I mimicked her stance and crossed my arms, only I wasn’t hugging myself like I was going to cry. I was getting irritated again.
“So,” she cleared her throat, “I like to read.”
“Congrats.”
“And,” Brielle heaved a deep breath, “I like baseball.”
“Smart.”
“So, I don’t really have time—or an interest in . . .”
“In what?” I pressed.
“Dating.”
“Perfect. Let’s break up.” I reached out and patted her shoulder like everything was solved.
“W-wait.” She reached out and tugged my t-shirt sleeve.
I looked at her fingers.
Brielle dropped her hand.
“What are we waiting for?” I asked.
“Well, I might have made that photobeforeyou came, and I might have told my friends I was dating said guy whose photo I faked. And I might have accidentally said his name was Brooks, and then you sort of coincidentally showed up at school today.”
That was the craziest story I’d ever heard. “That’s a real dog-ate-my-homework excuse.”
“It’s not an excuse.”
Dang it, if Brielle didn’t really seem convincing. Fine. I’d play along. “So, you created a fake me, not knowing I really existed?”
“Mm, hmm,” she nodded.
“And then you told your friends you were dating me?”
