Pocketing my phone, I shrug my school bag over my shoulders and head out when Sarah Jane comes through. She has a smirk on her face, and her arms are folded across her chest. Sarah Jane clutches her phone in her right hand, a beaded accessory with a love heart dangling at the end. She is undeniably pretty, and she knows that too, for the way she holds herself. There’s a lot of confidence.
“I’m surprised you came to school today,” she says.
I blink a few times, and then my gaze drifts to the exit, wanting to leave, but she stands there, and I know she’s not finished with this conversation.
“Pardon…”
“I thought you would stay home today after you saw the photo of you going around school, making it easier on me.” She stares daggers at me. “But you came, and that emo creep, Emma, didn’t, and so people are convinced it’s her when actually you are the girl with the fucked-up bruises all over your body.”
“I don’t… I don’t know w-what you’re talking about,” I breathe, unable to hold eye contact. “No one knows who it is.”
“You can’t fool me,” she hisses, taking a step toward me. “I’m the one who took it.”
My eyes widen, and my hands clutch the straps of my school bag.
“My friend steered you into the shower with the hole down the bottom, and I slipped my phone underneath and took a picture of you.” She laughs cruelly. “I didn’t know about the bruises. I just wanted a photo to hold against you, but man, those bruises. That’s fucked up and disgusting.”
My breath comes out harshly. I reach for my chest, struggling to breathe. “What do you want?”
“It’s simple. Stop talking and hanging out with Conner if you don’t want anyone to know that it’s you. Break off thisthingyou two have going on, and I’ll keep your secret safe and hidden.”
“But it’s not hidden,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “You sent it to everyone in school.”
My hands move to my stomach. I feel sick.
“That was Stage One. Stage Two, you were meant to stay home today so I could convince people it’s you without outright saying it.” She places her hand on my shoulder and leans in, a smirk settling on her face. “I don’t want this coming back to me. I’m going to the best university, and if I claimed outright that itwas you, people would know I took the photo, and then I’d be expelled.” Her grip tightens on my shoulder. “I don’t want that.”
I glare at her. Taking a step forward, her eyes widen when I grab a bunch of her hair and slam her face into the mirror, shattering it on impact. Then I take her phone and toss it into the toilet bowl.
“Hey, weirdo,” Sarah Jane snaps, ripping me from my maladaptive daydream, “are you listening to me?”
The daydream was cruel, but it’s better than me cowering here, seeing my future fade away because a vindictive, wicked girl doesn’t like that I’m talking to Conner. I need to do something. Anything besides crouching here, feeling undeniably sick to the stomach.
A low, harsh breath escapes my dry lips. I clutch the phone in my hand and think,I need to stand up for myself.
“Conner is the best thing to happen in my life. I can’t stop talking to him,” I say.
“Then I’ll tell everyone it’s you.”
“How are you going to do that? You already said you didn’t want people to know you spread it.”
“I have other ways of getting your fucked up, beaten picture out.”
I got you.
“Then why not do it rather than threaten me?” I speak. “You don’t want to do it because you’re afraid I’ll tell Conner you were the one who spread it, thus resulting in him hating you more.”
Her jaw clenches, and she glares at me. I smile and arch my chin, feeling more confident than I had moments before.
“The worst thing you could have done was tell me you took the photo.” I raise my phone, and the red light flashes as I record everything Sarah Jane says. “Sometimes, Sarah Jane, words are more damning than actions. If you take me down, you’re coming with me.”
“You slut,” she snaps while reaching for my phone. I step back, but she grabs my arm, squeezing her fingernails and digging into my flesh. I grab her hand and rip it away from me. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Didn’t that hurt?”
I slip my phone into my pocket. While I wash the blotches of blood in the sink, I say, “You saw the photo, Sarah. Did it ever occur to you that someone hurt me more than you ever could?” I go into my bag, grab the jumper I keep in there and shrug that on. “Have a nice day,” I say while walking past her.
Adrenaline pulses inside me. I have never stood up for myself before. And maybe the reason is that she doesn’t scare me. Her words were empty threats, and I’ve witnessed true cruelty. I live it every day. So, as soon as I realised she was just a girl, I felt empowered.
Nothing is frightening about her.