One of Us Is Next(40)
I’m halfway to Knox’s locker when someone grabs hold of my arm. “I wouldn’t,” Phoebe says, pulling me to a stop. Her curly hair is in a high ponytail that swings when she turns her head to look behind us. “You being anywhere near him right now is only going to make things worse.” She doesn’t sound mean, just matter-of-fact, but the words still sting.
“What’s going on?”
“Limp noodles glued to his locker. In a—shape. You can probably guess.” She shrugs in what she clearly wants to be a breezy manner, but the tense lines of her mouth don’t match. “Could’ve been worse. At least noodles are easy to get off.” Her jaw twitches. “I mean, clean.”
I slump against the locker beside me. “Oh God. They’re such assholes. And it’s not even true.” I raise my voice. “I never said that.” I dart a glance at Phoebe, testing out the lie on somebody with significantly more brain cells than Sean.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says, in that same breezy-yet-bitter voice. “People will believe what they want anyway.”
I grimace in frustration. “The worst thing is, I was actually making progress in figuring out who’s doing this. Not fast enough, though.”
Phoebe blinks. “Say what?”
I catch her up on the latest revenge forum posts from Darkestmind. “I’ll bet that last one was about me,” I say, holding out my phone so Phoebe can see the screenshot I took. More to come soon. Tick-tock.
She sucks her lower lip in between her teeth. “Hmm. Maybe? Still doesn’t give you any idea who’s talking, though.”
“Not yet,” I say. “But you’d be surprised. People who think they’re being stealthy and anonymous give themselves away all the time.” Simon certainly did.
“Can I give you some advice?” Phoebe asks. I nod as she leans against the locker beside me, her face serious. “I was thinking about this stupid game all last night, and how it has everybody dancing like puppets on a string. Whoever’s behind Truth or Dare is on a massive power trip. And the thing is, we’re giving them that power. By caring. Reacting. Spending all our time worrying about who’s next and what’s true. We’re feeding the beast and I, for one, am done. I blocked Unknown last night, and I think you should too. Back away from the revenge forum. Stop handing those anonymous weirdos the attention they want so much. If everyone ignored them, they’d stop.”
“But everyone won’t ignore them,” I protest. “This is Bayview High we’re talking about. The gossip capital of North America.”
Phoebe gives a little toss of her head. “Well, we have to start somewhere, don’t we? I’m officially opting out of this mess.”
“Sounds great in theory,” I say. “I don’t disagree. But that’s not going to help Knox at this particular point in time.”
“People are making way too big a deal of this,” Phoebe says. She edges a little closer and lowers her voice. “It’s not uncommon, you know. Especially during a first time. Was there alcohol involved, by any chance?”
I resist the urge to bash my head against the locker, but just barely. “Please don’t.” Then, because I’m desperate to understand what happened and Knox isn’t speaking to me, I add in a whisper, “I don’t know how anyone could have found out. I only told Bronwyn and she would never say anything.”
“Are you sure?” Phoebe arches a skeptical brow, and I guess I can’t blame her for asking. She doesn’t exactly have an ironclad bond of sisterly trust with Emma.
“Positive. Maybe Knox told somebody. He has a lot more friends than I do.”
Phoebe shakes her head emphatically. “No way. A guy would never.”
My throat aches. “He hates me now.”
The bell rings, and Phoebe pats my arm. “Look, this sucks and of course he’s upset. But you didn’t actually do anything so terrible. The fact is, girls talk about this kind of stuff. People talk about this kind of stuff. He knows that. Just give him some time.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, and then my heart jumps into my throat as I spy Knox’s familiar gray sweatshirt headed our way. His backpack is slung over one shoulder, his head down. When he gets close enough for me to see his face, he looks so miserable that I can’t keep quiet. “Hi, Knox,” I call, my voice wavering on his name.
His mouth twitches downward, so I know he heard me. But he walks past us without saying a word.
Phoebe pats my arm again, harder. “More time than that.”
* * *
—
The rest of the day doesn’t get any better. Flaccid penis pictures start showing up everywhere: on lockers, classroom doors, bathroom walls, even at the kitchen lunch line. Former prison worker Robert tears one down while I grab a soggy turkey sandwich that I have no intention of eating. “What fresh hell are these monsters up to now?” he mutters, with an expression that’s equal parts mystified and apprehensive.
It’s pushed every other worrying thought from my head. The nosebleeds and bruises can wait. Unknown’s identity—I don’t care anymore. Phoebe was right: whoever it is isn’t worth all the time and attention I’ve been giving them. I need to focus my energy on fixing this mess with Knox. I mean, I have a measly five people in my Key Contacts, and he’s the only one who’s not related to me or getting paid to keep me from dying. I can’t let this ruin our friendship.