Be the Girl(79)

How long before the whole school is in on it?

My eyes sting with angry tears as I read the profile description.

Stalker. Thief. S.T.D. Advocate. Bathroom Voyeur. DM face-stuffing pics. Anon guaranteed.

There’s no doubt Holly started this, but good luck proving it. She posted the first picture last Friday night, after the mini-meet. She probably sat in her room—by herself, or with Mandy, who seems to be of like mind—and giggled as she opened a fake account using a fake email.

And there are already seventy-four followers.

I close my eyes as a wave of nausea floods me.

I don’t know what to do. If I tell my mother, she’ll storm in guns blazing and make things worse.

If I go to Mr. Keen … who am I kidding? Holly won’t admit to it. He’ll probably make things worse too. If he does anything at all.

Maybe I brought this on myself. I did start that idiotic toe-sucking rumor, after all. And I did help break them up. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be a target. Maybe I deserve this.

That thought brings me no comfort.

But there’s not much I can do. I take a screenshot of the IG account, for proof, and then report the account, knowing it’s likely futile.

And then I hide out in the bathroom stall until the bell goes for the end of fourth period, because there’s no way I’m going back to the caf today.





22





Ms. Moretti cuts my path off as I’m on my way to joining the rest of the team in stretching. “How’s the knee?” She peers down at my leg, hidden by my favorite loose track pants.

“Fine. Just bruised.” I bend it as if to prove my words. In truth, my entire kneecap is an ugly and concerning mottle of purple and blue, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.

“Okay. Do me a favor and take it easy for one more day. We have two weeks until regionals. You’ll make your time back, if you let yourself heal. Pace yourself with Richard.”

“Sure.” My eyes flicker to the group, to where Holly sits on the grass, stretching her hamstrings, her ponytail swaying as she laughs hysterically with the girl beside her. About what, who knows, but I’ve come to assume it’s nothing kind.

Tension instantly courses through my limbs.

“Is everything else okay, Aria?”

I meet Moretti’s eyes, now wearing a coat of suspicion. “Yeah. Why?”

“Are you—” She stops midsentence, twisting her lips in thought. And then simply nods. “I know starting at a new school can be hard. You seem to be on the right track. But if you ever need an ear …” Her brow pinches. “If things get harder than they should be at school, I’m here to listen. You know that, right?”

I force a smile, even as my insides tighten. Did she dig into my past? Did she find records she was not supposed to see?

“Yeah. I know.” I sound like Cassie.

Her shrewd gaze wanders to Holly. “We’re not as oblivious to what’s going on as you guys seem to think we are. I hate it”—she holds a manicured hand up— “no, that’s a terrible word. I strongly dislike it when my students think they can’t come to me with a problem. Especially a problem with another student. I’m here to help, but I can’t do that if you don’t talk to me. Okay?”

I purse my lips, and nod. That’s what they all say.

Though, Ms. Moretti seems different from other teachers I’ve had. Maybe she is the real deal; maybe she is different from all the rest of them.

If I gave her a list of Holly’s indiscretions thus far, what would she do with it?

Her lips spread into a broad, beautiful smile. “Okay, everyone! Two more minutes and then we work off that turkey!”

I make my way over to Richard and begin stretching my legs. “Hey, Rich.”

“My grandfather calls me that. Richie Rich. Except we’re poor.” He adjusts his yellow sweatband. “Good Thanksgiving?”

I consider that for a minute. “Yeah, it was.” Despite all the drama. “You?”

“I went up against a gelatinous cube.” He pauses for effect. “And won.”

“I take it that’s something from your little dragon game thing?”

“Uh … it’s not little and it’s only a dungeon dweller who consumes living tissue.” He stares at me like I’m the strange one.

I give him two thumbs up. “Good job, you.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs and then takes a moment to bend down and check his shoelaces. “Saw Adam Levic, by the way.” He stands to flash me a wide-eyed exaggerated look. “How’s Emmett’s fist?”

I guess everyone has heard. “Better than that jerk’s face, I’m sure.”

Richard snorts. “Is it true what he did to Cassie?”

“Yup.”

“Man … who does that?”

An idiot with a big-boobed temptress whispering in his ear.

“So, what’s Cassie like stoned?”

“She wasn’t. She was fine. Thank God Adam doesn’t know how to use a scale.”

Richard barks out a laugh. “I’m not surprised. I tried tutoring that guy in Math 9.” He shakes his head. “Lost cause.”

“We have something in common, then, because I’m going to fail my math midterm tomorrow.” It’s always been my worst subject and with the way Lewis tests us, I’m doomed.