The Exact Opposite of Okay(60)
You know what? I’d stay internationally reviled forever if it meant Ajita would forgive me. I wish she was in school, just because it’d mean she’s relatively all right, and that her parents haven’t burned her at the stake or sent her to one of those awful correctional facilities for non-straight people.
Why did I do this? Seriously, what was my thinking when I sent that text to Carson? That’s the problem. I wasn’t thinking. Not at all. And I’ve done so, so, so much damage through sheer negligence. It’s deeply concerning – that I can screw up so epically and irrevocably, and not even be aware I’m doing it until it’s too late.
Why am I like this? I know my generally apathetic and humorous nature can be endearing. [At least, I assume that’s why you’ve stuck with me for so long. You’re over 50,000 words into my story and you’re still here! You deserve a medal, I tell you.] But this is not okay. It’s not okay that I’m like this.
I send Ajita one more message:
I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I love you. And I’m sorry. Please talk to me. Or don’t. Because I definitely don’t deserve it. But just know how sorry I am. I’m so lost without you xxx
Anyway, Vaughan’s in school today, but he’s deftly avoiding me. He’s probably heard about how I plan to decapitate him in a brutal Westeros-style murder situation.
Then – because everything I thought I knew about myself and those around me appears to have been blown out of the water – I start to wonder whether he’s really the one I should be hating here. Yeah, he made that ill-judged speech in the cafeteria that ended up hitting the press, and he has been a bit of a dick to me on several occasions (e.g. stomping on my flowers), but I sort of understand his thinking. It all boils down to the fact he’s scared of his dad. And yeah, he does stupid stuff without thinking – in the same way I do apparently – but I don’t think there’s any genuine malice there. Just fear, and a desperate need for approval.
The person I should really be pissed at is the person who turned this from something personal between Vaughan and me into a fully fledged scandal. The person who made that website. The person who leaked my nude photo. Because that was cold, and calculated, and vicious. That was malicious.
I need to find out who it is.
11.45 a.m.
When I’m walking out of biology class after a highly traumatic dissection of a pig’s heart, I see the last person I expect to bump into at school: Betty.
She’s leaving the principal’s office, and looks absolutely furious about something. The principal, a stern fellow with a big gray mustache, goes to shake her hand, but she totally shuns him, flat out ignoring the peace offering and storming away. She nearly knocks over a gaggle of girls gathered at the water fountain like gormless geese. [Check out dat alliteration. In the unlikely event you are studying this book for a high-school English class, please do feel free to point out my astonishing grasp of literary devices. Between you and me it was just a happy accident, but your teacher doth not need to know this.]
Betty finally spots me gaping at her and approaches with a look of wild hysteria in her eyes. “Izzy! Darling granddaughter! Why did you not inform me that your principal is a cretinous goblin with the worst breath I have ever encountered in my life?”
She’s speaking so loudly that everyone within a thirty-mile radius can hear, but I’m truly beyond caring at this point. To say my reputation is in the gutter would be an understatement of epic proportions, so really how much worse can a mad, raving loony of a grandmother make things?
“Betty-O. Dare I ask what you’re doing here?”
A strained smile. “Well, Iz-on-your-face, I –”
“Hilarious new nickname by the way.”
“Why thank you, I do try. Anyway, I thought I’d have a chat with your principal about his complete lack of action in determining the founder of the World Class Whore website, and his apparent disinterest in the way you’re being treated in this godforsaken sanctuary for cretinous goblins.”
A small crowd has gathered to listen to our conversation, including Mr Wong. To the average onlooker, it appears he’s abandoned an AP class just to get a good vantage point for this unlikely scenario: a lunatic grandma set loose on the halls of a so-called cretinous goblin sanctuary. But I know the truth. He’s probably just watching his back; making sure I haven’t ratted him out. That this dramatic confrontation isn’t about him.
“And? What did he say?”
She turns beetroot-colored at this point. “Funny you should ask! He said that while the website is being investigated, the school has limited resources and cannot prioritize instances of a self-inflicted nature.”
WTF?? “Self-inflicted?! Someone hacked into my phone! That’s victim-blaming. And revenge porn is a big deal. It’s illegal in at least thirteen states.”
“Exactly what I said, Iz-on-your-face, but the twat goblin just made some sanctimonious remarks about self-respect. He also said that while revenge porn isn’t illegal in our state, having sex in public is, and we should be thankful nobody is pressing charges.”
“It was on private property!”
“I know, I know. But he seems to think that I should, I quote, ‘lie low and not make this any worse than it already is’.”
I puff air through my cheeks. “Shitting hell.”