Fifteen Lanes - S.J. Laidlaw Page 0,63

girls asking stupid questions, like, Does she really charge for it?

Eight were positive. My favorite said, Why don’t you people get a life? Though, arguably, that one could have been directed at me. It was exactly what VJ would have said if I’d told him about the wall. I preferred that he think—like my parents—that things had blown over. He expected me to be strong and fearless like him. If he’d known about the wall, he would have laughed it off and been disappointed in me that I couldn’t do the same.

I read through the new comments, repeating the few positive ones in my head, trying to commit them to memory. It was a challenge I set myself every morning, and every morning, I failed. Hours and days later I could recall every cruel word while the kind ones always eluded me. Many of the comments were petty and mean-spirited. They said far more about the writer than they said about me, yet a part of me agreed with them.

They were substantively inaccurate: I wasn’t giving BJs behind the equipment house at the pool, and I hadn’t had sex with any of the many guys listed. I hadn’t had sex with anyone, but I had been intimate. With a complete, still unknown stranger, I’d exposed my self and not just my body. I’d revealed my innermost thoughts, my fears and hopes. I’d treated my own soul like a commodity at a fire sale that I couldn’t unload fast enough. As much as these girls hated me, they couldn’t come close to how much I hated myself.

I jumped when I heard the bathroom door open and was glad I’d had the foresight to lock the stall. It was unusual for anyone to come in at that time of day. Being on the top floor, far from the lockers and cafeteria, this bathroom wasn’t convenient.

“We were just talking. I asked him what he was doing this weekend.”

The voice was familiar but I couldn’t place it immediately.

“And how are my boyfriend’s weekend plans any of your business?”

That voice I knew.

The only thing worse than sitting in a bathroom stall eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation was realizing that the two someones were Madison and Kelsey. There was nothing I could say that would convince them I’d just happened to overhear by accident. And this almost definitely confirmed that they were contributors to my Hater Wall—not that I was ever in doubt.

“I was just making conversation,” said Kelsey.

“Liar. I’ve seen the way you get all giggly around him.”

“You’re paranoid because of what Grace did. I’m not a slut like her.”

Hang on. How did I get drawn into it?

“From where I was sitting you didn’t look much better!”

Whoa! Madison was out for blood.

“Excuse me?” Kelsey sounded every bit as angry as Madison now. “You think I’d send naked photos of myself to a guy?”

“She didn’t send them to a guy. She sent them to you!”

I held my breath. Was this the moment I’d finally find out what really happened?

“She didn’t know that.” Without even seeing her I could hear the smug pleasure in Kelsey’s voice.

“Just stay away from my boyfriend,” snapped Madison.

There was a shuffling and the sound of the door opening and closing. I gave myself a few seconds to calm my breathing before emerging from my hiding place. I walked past the stalls to the sinks and practically jumped out of my skin when I came upon Kelsey in front of the mirror, reapplying her mascara.

“You were listening?” she accused, rounding on me angrily.

I met her gaze. “You were the one who did it?”

I didn’t have to say what “it” was. Her guilty look said it all.

“Not everything,” she said, as if that should make all the difference. “I was the one you were texting with but it was Madison’s idea. She was the one who sent your photo to the entire school and pasted one to your locker.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I guess she was jealous of you.”

I didn’t waste time challenging the ridiculousness of that assertion. “I’m not asking about her. Why did you do it?”

Her eyes cut to the door. I was blocking her way, but if she’d tried to get past me I would have let her. I had an overwhelming desire to burst into tears and I did not want to cry in front of her.

Kelsey beat me to it.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I don’t know why I go along with her. I just want her to like me.”

I stepped forward