Be the Girl(83)

“Okay … Reasons.” I start a fresh tab. “Need for attention, learned behavior, low self-esteem …” All those sessions with Dr. C. are paying off in a way I never anticipated. “Desire to fit in. Jealousy.” I feel Emmett’s eyes on my profile but I keep my focus on the screen, wanting to be finished with this project so I can go back to happier things—namely, kissing Emmett.

“Next was a slide about victims, right?” Every time I hear that word, my body tenses.

“If you flip to that last tab in the browser, there’s some good information in there,” Emmett says.

I don’t have to look, though. My fingers fly over the keyboard with each bullet point. “Number one, they’re afraid no one will believe them. Two, they’re embarrassed to talk about what’s being said. Three, they’re afraid of retaliation.” I think of Cassie. “Four, they don’t even realize that it’s a form of bullying. Or …,” I swallow as I type out the last one, “they deserve it. They think they deserve it,” I correct, flipping to the last slide.

“What happened in Calgary, Aria?” Emmett asks softly. I love when he calls me AJ, but hearing my real name come from his lips always sends shivers down my spine.

Unfortunately, the shivers are cold this time.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know you don’t, but I’m asking you to, anyway.” His index finger grazes my cheek. “You already kind of told me, right? Don’t you trust me with the whole story?”

“I do trust you.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

“Because you won’t understand.”

“You really don’t think so?”

My mouth has gone dry under the unexpected pressure. If I tell Emmett the whole truth, he’ll look at me differently. Just like everyone else did. But … what if he does understand? What if telling him helps me shed this weight that still lingers after all these months, no matter how far away we’ve driven, no matter how many productive sessions with Dr. C. I’ve had, no matter how many times I tell my mother that I’m fine, that I made a terrible mistake but I’ve learned from it?

How much of the truth can Emmett handle, though? And what does he really need to know?

“There was … this girl.” Yes. Impartiality. Separation.

I stare at my socked feet as I force myself to continue. “There was this girl in my school. She took a candid video of another girl in the library—a girl she didn’t like, who was flirting with the guy she was in love with. So, this girl took that video, dubbed a conversation over it that said all kinds of embarrassing things, and then shared it with a few people who shared it with a few people. Soon it was all over the school. The other girl found out and she was pissed. So, she retaliated by spreading all kinds of rumors—horrible rumors. The girl who pulled the video prank had made the wrong enemy, but it was too late. This went on and on.”

“Did she try apologizing for making the video?” Emmett asked softly.

I shake my head. “She should have, but she didn’t.” Would it have made a difference?

I swallow the ache in my throat. “We had this fundraising program in school. It was called Rosegram. You could pay money to send a rose and a nice message to another student to brighten their day. So, one day, the girl who took the video was sitting in the caf when a Rosegram came for her. It came with this huge sign that everyone could read right away that said, ‘Will you go to prom with me?’ Signed by the guy she was in love with. Who was also in the caf that day. It had been planned out perfectly.”

“Let me guess—he didn’t send it,” Emmett says with a heavy sigh.

I shake my head. “And he wasn’t nice about making that clear in front of everyone. He was a huge jerk anyway. She just couldn’t see it.” I study my socks a long moment, thinking back to that day.

“That would have been humiliating for … the girl,” he offers gently.

“It was. She started to cry, right there, in the middle of the caf. And she already had a lot of things going on—family problems, confidence issues, she was failing some of her classes. Add in months of horrible rumors floating around the school about her and she finally snapped.” I take a deep, calming breath. “About a week later, she swallowed a bunch of pills from her mother’s medicine cabinet.”

I’m going to puke.

I can’t believe I told Emmett that story.

The silence in the room is deafening.

I can feel his concerned eyes on me. I just can’t bring myself to meet them. Because I’ll see pity, sorrow, worry—all the things I don’t want to see. “I really don’t want to talk about it again, Emmett, so please don’t ask me to.”

“Thank you for telling me. I won’t ask again,” he promises.

Clearing the lump from my throat, I open a fresh slide. “So … things that society can do to combat bullying—”

“Do you want me to say something? To Mr. Keen or whoever. Do you want me to report Holly for that stupid Instagram account?”

“No.” I shake my head. “You did enough today.” I force myself to look at him, to smile. “That was chivalrous.”

He snorts. “I wouldn’t call it that. I basically threatened to be an equally shitty person.” His jaw tenses as he studies me. “Everyone’s capable of it.”