The Way to Game the Walk of Shame(5)

I cleared my throat and motioned her forward. “Can you let me know when Mom and Dad are gone? I don’t want to see them right now.”

“But—”

“If you help me and keep this a secret between us, then you can have my French toast with extra syrup. Deal?”

I don’t know if it was the thought of keeping a secret from our parents or the French-toast bribe, but her smile widened until all you could see were her shiny teeth. “Deal!”

After she left, I hopped into the tub. Well, not so much hopped as stumbled around with my head held between my hands in an attempt to make the throbbing stop. Thankfully, the steaming-hot water eased my headache, making everything feel better. Not perfect, but better.

I stayed in the shower for ages, until the hot water turned warm and finally piercing cold. Not wanting to turn into an icicle, I finally got out. My fingertips were already wrinkled prunes.

Wrapping a thick cream towel around myself, I wiped at the condensation on the mirror and stared myself down. “So you had a minor setback with Columbia yesterday and Evan this morning. Big whoop.” I narrowed my eyes at my own reflection. “It doesn’t mean anything. You’re still Taylor Simmons. You’re still you. You’re still awesome. And this time next year, you’ll be sitting on the Columbia campus thinking, Evan who?”

“Tay, Mom and Dad left. Can I eat the French toast in your room?”

A horrified denial automatically sprang to my lips at the image of crumbs and syrup all over my sheets, but I pushed it down at Kimmy’s earnest tone. I owed her one for helping me out anyway. “Sure, but uh, make sure you get extra napkins.”

“Okay!”

I let out a slow, deep breath and pointed a wrinkled finger at the mirror to continue my pep talk. “So pull yourself together. Tomorrow you’re going to go to school and pretend nothing happened. Actually, not even pretend. Because. Nothing. Happened.”

Evan’s grinning face popped into my head. His dark-gray eyes twinkled with amusement like he was listening to my speech. I shivered and swiped at the mirror again, hoping it would help clear my mind. “Nothing.”

*

Thank god I had Sunday to lie around and sleep, or I doubt I would have ever made it to school. Kimmy and I hung out in my room and watched movies all day long. After she finished the French toast, I brought the dirty plate out myself and pretended I’d eaten it. Luckily, Mom had errands to run that day, so she couldn’t ask me too much about the party.

I wished avoiding people at school on Monday were as easy as avoiding my parents. Everyone’s eyes were on me as I walked to class. Seriously. Heads turned, and people whispered behind their hands with every step I took. And the worst part was they weren’t even trying to be subtle about it.

There had to be another reason—any reason—that they would be looking at me. Maybe I had won some sort of an award. Or Brian failed a test or something, and I was the valedictorian now. (One can dream.) At this point, I wouldn’t even mind being the one who failed the hypothetical test. Anything would be better than the truth.

I fumbled with the combination on my locker. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw a brunette girl in a black sophomore sweatshirt turn to some guy beside her and point at me. At first I couldn’t hear what they said, but my ears perked up at Evan’s name. Straining to hear, I leaned in closer.

“I think she’s the one who went home with Evan McKinley after the party,” she said in a hushed tone.

“No, way. Isn’t she like a nerd or something? Like a teacher’s pet?”

“Everyone calls her the Ice Queen. Now she’s just another one of his flings.”

He snickered. “Guess even queens can’t resist Evan McKinley.”

Party. Evan. Fling.

No, no, no. This had to be a dream. A really sucky, horrible nightmare.

Even though my hangover was gone, I suddenly felt like throwing up again. Forgetting why I was even at my locker, I stumbled away without opening it. Everything in front of me spun. The lockers. The other students. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be some type of Twilight Zone or something. Or a bad romance novel where I was the gentle, well-bred, titled daughter who had her reputation ruined because of a scandalous, notorious rake.

Reading about it was way better than experiencing it.

But damn it, how could everyone know already? And what exactly did they know?

It was the longest walk of my life. Like someone had decided to build an extra mile into the hallway over the weekend just to torture me.

Even Faith Watkins, whom everyone at school nicknamed the Reincarnated Mother Mary, gave me a sympathetic look when I passed her. The little Catholic girl with the white sweaters and JESUS LOVES ME stickers on her backpack knew. And if she knew, that meant everyone knew.

Once I was finally able to reach the safety of first period, I plopped onto my usual seat without looking at anyone around me. They were still whispering and pointing, but at least now there were only twenty-five of them instead of the entire school.

My forehead dropped into my hands, gripping it tightly as though that would help shrink my headache. God, could this day get any worse?

Mr. Peters strolled into class and closed the door behind him with a loud bang. “All right, did everyone finish the report on a significant event of the 1900s?”

There were moans and groans, and a couple of students immediately started rambling off excuses why they didn’t do their homework.