She’s not even that pretty.
Heard the team passes her around. Everyone gets a turn.
Whore.
Freshmen are so desperate, I swear.
Wes Tucker could do SO MUCH BETTER OMFG.
What the fuck does he see in this twig?
My finger freezes on one of the most recent comments.
Knew her from high school. She fucked my boyfriend behind my back, thenliedabout it. SLUT.
Bile rises in my throat because I know who wrote that, and even after everything, I can’t believe she put it out there inwritingfor the world to see. “I feel sick,” I mumble, dropping the phone and pushing back from the table. “Bathroom.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” Quinn calls after me, but I can’t respond. I almost don’t make it to the first stall before my lunch comes back up, tears pricking my eyes as I heave into the library toilet for the second time this semester.
I just need a second. A second to collect my thoughts. A second to wrangle my emotions under control. But it’s hard when they’re spiraling, those comments relentless as they whip around my head in a hurricane of pure hatred and cruelty.
Freshmen are so desperate, I swear.
Wes Tucker could do SO MUCH BETTER OMFG.
Whore.
I heave again, but nothing comes up. My skin is crawling, the words creeping over the surface until all I want is to rip it right off. I scratch at my arms, legs, neck. I try to rub them away.
Knew her from high school. She fucked my boyfriend behind my back, then lied about it.
SLUT.
It’s only when my vision goes hazy around the edges and panic roars through me, deafening and raw, that I squeeze my eyes shut and lean against the wall of the stall. I press my hands to my stomach and force myself to breathe, in, out, in, out, in, out, counting back from ten.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
Breathe in.
Seven. Six. Five. Four.
Breathe out.
The bathroom door creaks open and hesitant footsteps approach my stall. “Ivy?” Quinn knocks lightly on the door. “Are you okay?”
Three. Two. One.
My vision clears, and my lungs expand as I suck in a deep breath. It takes a moment to find my voice. “I’m okay.”
“I’m so sorry, Ivy,” she says, her voice dripping with remorse. “I shouldn’t have showed it to you, but I wanted you to know in case some bitch said something mean.”
I sniff. “I understand. I’d rather be informed.”
“Do you want me to call Wes?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I’m fine. You don’t need to call him. I’ll…I’ll be out in a second.”
Quinn hesitates for a moment before saying, “Okay. We’ll be at the table when you’re ready.”
