The Takedown(38)

“Wallowing under a blanket of woe is me,” I called out.

Three pink-clad bodies tumbled into my bedroom.

“Well, throw it off.” Audra frowned. “We brought enormous coffees.”

Telling by the circles under her eyes and the tiny cowlick of white-blond hair that was poking up at the back of her head, she clearly hadn’t had enough of hers. But it was early. This was the time we all normally woke up. Instead she was at my bedside in full makeup.

“And egg sammy bagels,” Fawn said as Sharma tossed me a greasy brown bag. “Organic ones from the new place on Bergen.”

“And an apology,” Sharma said.

“AnyLiesUnmade?” Fawn cried. “And a stalker outside your house?”

“I still can’t believe you were on the huge Eden screen.” Audra laughed. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday in the Elite, you stinker? Or at dinner? I mean, there were a few seconds when I wasn’t being a self-righteous betch.”

“Wait. How do you guys know about all this?”

Answer: Mac. Apparently, he’d txted Audra last night, reamed her out, and updated her on everything. So what they had to say was that they now (finally) believed it wasn’t me in the video. If for no other reason than I would never prematurely send off my college applications.

“And we’re so super-sorry we didn’t believe you from the start,” Fawn added.

“Though, for the record, it is an excellent editing job,” Audra finished.

Cue Audra falling onto my bed and tickling me in the ribs. Fawn pulling out her gross hanky to mop up her tears. Sharma looking like God creating Earth as she flicked between the seven holoscreens orbiting her Doc to show me all the videos I’d missed. And yes, part of me wanted to tell them they were too late. That I’d been handling things perfectly fine by myself, and that I’d continue handling them by myself. But then my Doc dinged with a message from a Will at Rise High Entertainment, congratulating me on my notoriety and asking if I was repped by anyone yet.

Who was I kidding? I’d take just about any support the girls offered. So, silencing my Doc, I said, “Seriously? Pink?”

“I know,” Fawn pouted. “I lobbied hard for red and green. I mean, it’s Christmas Eve.”

Sharma made a gag me face. “Still my week. So yes, pink. Innocent yet in-your-face.”

These weren’t accents of pink with hair clips and shoes. These equaled the-most-ridiculous-outfits-in-your-closet’s-arsenal pink. Sharma was wearing a pink sari that her mom must have lent her. Fawn was in tight hot-pink jeans and a flouncy pink blouse. Audra was in a full-on tutu, wearing pink ankle booties that were on all the fashion sites’ holiday wish lists. When InStitches had first suggested them to me, the comment I left was: For five hundred bucks you should at least get the whole boot.

“I guess half a boot is good enough.” I nodded at her shoes.

“Ever heard of a splurge, betch? You’re just mad they’re a size six.”

“Truth,” I laughed. “You guys look like regurgitated Pepto-Bismol.”

“It gets better.” Audra brightened as she undid the top two buttons on her blouse.

Across her chest, in bright pink lipstick, was the word BRAT.

Fawn undid her blouse the same way. Across her chest it said SLUT.

Sharma’s said NERD.

Audra took a lipstick out of her purse, straddled me, and wrote INNOCENT boldly across my neckline.

“I love my friends.” The words burbled out of me. “Group pic.”

With Audra on top of me, I couldn’t reach my Doc, so I dug into my shoulder bag, grasping for my school tablet instead. When I pulled it out, a bunch of papers came with it.

Fawn’s face paled. “Where did those come from?”

At first I thought she simply meant because it was paper, and other than, like, Fawn’s mom and similar crunchy granola eaters, no one used paper anymore. But then I saw what made Fawn’s curls droop. There was something written on the papers. My name. Over and over and over again.

Kyle. Kyle. Kyle. Kyle.

Front and back. Written thousands of times in all different styles of handwriting.

“I have no idea,” I said.

Someone must have shoved them into my bag when I wasn’t looking. But when? When was the last time I looked in my bag? Last night after I got back from Mac’s? Yesterday afternoon when I left Ms. Tompkins in the library? I carried it everywhere but barely used it. At school it sat in my cubby all day. My wide-open, unlockable cubby.

Fawn and Audra exchanged a look I couldn’t read; then Audra grabbed the papers out of my hand, crumpled them up, and tossed them in my trash can. I knew it was as creepy as it felt because Fawn set down her egg sandwich.

“Someone’s just trying to scare you…” Audra said.

“More,” Sharma added.

“But who?” Fawn asked.

That was the problem. I didn’t know.





I txted my hater as the girls and I climbed the steps to school.

moi Congratulations, the video just hit a million views. We’re famous.

I refused to ask about the papers. As if I were dealing with a child, I didn’t think bad behavior should be rewarded with attention.

Just in time for Christmas. And no. Only you’re famous. And maybe it’s time you stopped tracking the count.