I catch her eye just long enough for her to tilt her head and give a shrug—as if she’s helpless to resist—before she sprints to him. That’s when I notice multiple people have cameras trained on me. Laughter surrounds me. And I run.
“Don’t leave now, I’ll still take you! At least for tonight!” TJ yells behind me as I push through the crowds toward the backyard gate. His booming voice echoes through the neighborhood.
I sprint faster, urged on by the giggles and pointed fingers. I race through the gate and trip on a stepping stone. I go sprawling in their front yard. My palms and knees burn but there’s no time to clean myself up. I stand, kick off my stupid shoes, and run down the sidewalk toward the car. When I see it in the distance, I skid to a halt.Crystal’scar! Holy hell, how much worse can this night get?
Chapter
2
When I wake the next morning, my face is still red andswollen from crying. I can hardly believe last night happened. It’s like the worst stress dream—the kind you have the week before the new school year or right before a big test—but I know this isn’t a dream. My new dress is crumpled on the floor where I dropped it last night after Mom drove me home. My makeup is still on, if you count the trails of mascara my tears left on my cheeks.
I force myself to sit up and find a glass of ice water on my bedside table. Mom must have already snuck in here this morning. I won’t be able to put her questions off forever. But how can I possibly explain why I threw myself at Andy in front of the entire freaking school?
My phone dings and I cringe. I really don’t want to see what people are texting me, but I can’tnotknow. I grab my phone and find a series of texts from Crystal, starting last night.
You okay?
Where are you? Are you wandering around the neighborhood right now?
I’m leaving. I hope someone was able to give you a ride.
You’re clearly pissed, but I didn’t know Andy was going to do that. And if the roles were reversed, I’m sure you would say yes. Obviously.
Fresh tears well up and I drop the phone on my bed.
She’s not sorry.
Something cracks inside me at the realization. Even after I ran out of the party, even when I buried myself under pillows last night, I thought she’d care about hurting me. I half expected to find an apology text or email or, I don’t know, maybe even an apology coffee and doughnut this morning when she returned my shoes. Hadn’t we become friends over the past few months? Maybe we weren’t the closest friends in the world, but we also weren’t at themake out with my crush while the entire school laughs and pointsstage.
I guess I was only her friend as long as I wasn’t a roadblock to what she really wanted. And that, clearly, was Andy.
I’m about to bury myself in the blankets again when another text from Crystal dings.
Sorry about the memes and gifs and stuff. People can be assholes.
Dread spreads through my limbs like poison. Oh, please no. With shaking hands, I switch to Instagram.
And there I am, in all my toe-curling, vomit-inducing humiliation. I scroll through my feed and see the video of my social demise at least four times. And the hashtags...
#Humiliation
#GladImNotHer
#LetHimFinish
#AsIf
I throw the phone across my bed like it’s radioactive. Omigod, it’s everywhere. The most embarrassing moment of my life is literally looping in my mindandon the internet.
I grab the closest pillow and scream into it.
Any sane person would push their phone down the garbage disposal after that, but I can’t help myself. I only make it thirty minutes before I open Snapchat and Twitter and find my face there as well, the posts already raking up tons more likes and comments than any picture I’ve ever posted. I’m never going to be able to show my face at Waterford again now that I’m Internet Famous. When I flip back to Instagram, there’s a new post from Crystal. It’s a photo of her and Andy at the party, arms wrapped around each other, wide grins plastered on their faces.
@andy_baller15 really DOES throw the best parties.
I just about puke on my unicorn sheets.
A knock sounds at the door and I shove my phone under my blankets.
