Wednesday 5th June, 2019
Day 3.
My parents noticed my dull mood in the morning.
Even what I was wearing seemed to be drab - a black-t-shirt and blue baggy jeans. With holes.
I reached to take a croissant, and Mum caught my arm. "What's wrong?" She asked, her brown eyes piercing. I couldn't even try and escape them.
"Nothing."
"You can tell us," Dad murmured, putting down the newspaper. That meant business.
I chewed my lip, finding the right words that would allow me a painless exit from this conversation. "I'm fine. Settling in is just making me tired."
Dad's eyes watched me. When he wanted to be, he could be very observant. "You don't look like you've been sleeping."
Because I haven't, I thought. "I don't need much sleep, anyway," I said instead, smiling. I could only hope it was convincing.
Mum's dark eyes were like lasers. "Is something going on at school?"
"No." I lied quickly.
"If there is," Dad said, "we can go in. But God will take care of it for us."
"Hmmn," I mumbled, jammed my croissant, and got out of there.
I felt even more sick on the way to school than I did yesterday. What Julian did the day before proved to me that he didn't care about me, that he would order his friends to beat me up and not bat an eye.
I realised last night, listening to one of my sadder tapes, that all I'd been to him was a source of entertainment. The new kid - an easy target. And I'd welcomed the attention with pathetic, open arms, all fuelling his stupid ego.
Taking a deep breath, I told myself not to spare him a glance, to not spare him anything. Especially not tears, no matter what he did.
Looking around the car park, I regretted getting this car momentarily. How was I meant to hide from all of those revolted stares with a bright yellow car? I was a yellow duck, asking for attention.
Getting out, I began to dart into school when, a few seconds later, Jordan was next to me.
I looked up in shock. "Jordan?"
His afro looked bigger and crazier than ever today. "Thought I'd escort you into school."
Out of habit, I looked to their usual spot, only to find there was no one lounging on the cars. Odd.
"Thank you, but they're off somewhere. Looks like I'm safe."
"Kids at this school can be pretty nasty," he smiled sadly. "I'd feel bad if I didn't offer my protection."
"Thanks," I said, and gave him the first real smile I'd managed in days. His dark brown eyes crinkled in response.
After another excruciating assembly, Brendan and Jordan both walked me to my locker. I'd refused - there was really no need - but they'd stuck to me like glue.
"This is a feminist issue, really," I was explaining to them both. I had a feeling they were only engaging in the conversation to keep me distracted from the hostile looks shot my way in the corridor. But I could still feel them like the burn of the sun. "I can look after myself."
"It helps to have some extra protection."
"No one's going to attack me."
Jordan looked at me pointedly; reminding me of the now-green bruises on my face. "My side doesn't hurt anymore," I mumbled.
"Not the point."
We rounded the corner. "That wasn't someone--" I broke off as my eyes went to the hallway in front.
We all stopped at the same time.
"What the hell?" Jordan said.
There was a crowd - the width of the whole corridor - gathered around my locker. Most students were pushing, backpacks being pulled, to get to the front. A din came from them, shouts and mutters and - the most troubling - laughter.
"Let us have a look." Brendan told me. "Stay here."
"No," I said faintly, still stunned. "I want to see."
I sauntered forward, the hallway a white blur around me. At the back of the huddle, I joined the pushing. It was hot in the crowd, and at first I got pushed back. But as soon as they realised who it was, the scrum parted.
I wish they hadn't.
Everyone made space around me, all eager to see my reaction. I felt my mouth drop open, hands curling into fists at my sides.
My navy locker had been decorated. In thick red paint, the words 'rotten whore' were written in the centre, fresh paint still dripping. Around it were other words like 'slut', 'filthy', 'STD' and 'fuck you'. I choked, words getting lodged in my throat.
I heard Jordan and Brendan fight to the front, and their gasps as they saw.
My legs moved, and I opened it with shaking fingers. I just wanted to get out of here. But as the door opened, black and red material tumbled out. I picked it up, and held the skimpiest lingerie I'd ever seen in my hands.
Laughter erupted around me, hoots of it. Bile rose in my throat, and I shoved my locker closed, dropping the lingerie.
Turning, I saw about ten phones directed at me, all recording. Usually I would have said something, shouted at them to get lost, but tears blurred my vision. I couldn't speak, and I wouldn't let them see me cry.
Darting away, I shoved through the crowd and ran down the corridor. At the end of it, four boys stood, watching the scene unfold. I only had eyes for one. His black curls were in a disarray, falling into dark eyes that seemed even more dead than yesterday.
Julian looked at me like he didn't even know my name. "You're quite fun to play with." He said.
I stopped in front of him, looked into his eyes, and said the only thing that came to mind. "I hate you."
His mouth twisted, but I was gone before he could reply.
Sitting on the toilet, I stared at the white light ahead until the tears dried up, and my head felt clearer. I wouldn't cry over this.
How far would he go? I knew stuff like this happened, but not to me. I hadn't done anything to deserve it! I was a goddamn virgin - I'd never even had a boyfriend!
My head fell in my hands, and I took off my glasses. Fiddling with them distracted me some, but not from the ugly truth. Julian hated me, so the whole school did too.
Sighing, I shook out my bronze bob and stood. I couldn't hide anymore. When I stepped out on wobbly legs, my reflection was too pale, brown eyes sad. I put on my glasses and pretended like that would hide them, heading out.
Jordan and Brendan stood outside like bodyguards.
"We would have come in, but we're not perverts." Jordan's eyes were tight with anger, but he smiled at me.
"Are you okay, Brooke?" Brendan touched my arm.
"It's disgusting, isn't it? I haven't even done anything."
"I know."
"I'm sick of it."
"I know."
"Do you want us to do anything?" Jordan asked.
I looked at them hopefully. "Do you mind skipping first?"
Brendan smiled. "Not at all."
"Good, because I need help scrubbing that stuff off my locker. I don't want any teachers seeing."
"Don't you want them to know?" Jordan frowned in confusion.
"Not really," I admitted. "The sooner it's gone, the sooner it's forgotten. And I don't want my parents coming in."
"But the videos--"
"I know," I sighed, shoulders slumping. I really couldn't escape. "They'll be everywhere."
"It'll blow over."
"Sure." I rolled my eyes. "Let's go."
By second period, nearly all of it was scrubbed off. Jordan had binned the lingerie, and his disgusted expression while doing it had actually made me laugh. Thankfully, it was gone before everyone spilled into the hallway for second class.
People eyed me, whispering, but without the vandalism there wasn't laughter. Jordan knew who had done it now, and I'd had to stop him from hunting Julian down.
Just the thought of what they'd do to him made me wince.
I spied the dark curls, taller than everyone else, coming down the corridor. Bracing myself, I stood in front of my locker and squeezed sponges into the bucket.
Jordan stepped in front of me as the four of them walked past, casual as could be. I thought I saw Julian's dark eyes narrow at my protector.
They walked away, the insult coming five seconds after. "Scrubbing it off won't hide the truth, whore!"
I recognised the smooth, deep voice. Julian really couldn't help himself, could he? I sighed, curbing the anger, and carried on squeezing sponges.
+++
I lay in bed that night.
The clock on the pastel green wall red 1:30am, and I couldn't sleep for two reasons.
First, there was a certain someone I had to tutor tomorrow after school. Thursday had been the agreed day when I left on Saturday and I couldn't decide how to act. Yet, my pride meant there was no doubt that I was going. Even though the thought turned my stomach, I wasn't a coward, and I needed the money.
Also, I was trying to stop myself from checking my phone. Trying to stop myself from watching the videos.
Suddenly, my phone rang. I checked the ID, and took the call. "Brendan?" I whispered.
"I knew you'd still be up."
"Can't sleep."
"Parents asleep?"
"Yes," I kept my voice down, imagining how furious Mum would be if I woke her.
"Try and go to bed," he said. "Don't worry about tomorrow."
"How can I not? By then, everyone would have seen the videos, and I have to face him after school."
"The whole group made a pact not to watch them. Have you seen them?" His voice was quiet with dread, and it was enough for me to assume the worst.
"No. Are they bad?"
"I've heard none of them are good," he admitted. "Don't watch any, it won't do you any good."
"Isn't it better for me to see what everyone else is seeing?"
"No." He said quickly, and I imagined his straight blonde hair swing as he shook his head. "No better."
"Brendan. . ."
"Brooke. This will pass. Don't stress yourself out more than you already are."
I chewed my lip, making up my mind. "Okay."
"Okay? Good." He inhaled deeply. "It's late. Get some sleep."
"You too."
"Will do. Night."
"Night," I whispered. As soon as he was off the phone, I opened social media. And sure enough, one of the videos was at the top of my feed.
I saw myself as the thumbnail, locker behind me, and felt sick. Turning off my phone, I stopped myself. If I didn't watch it, I didn't have to regret it.
Tossing the phone away, I turned over and pushed my face into the pillow, forcing myself to fall asleep.