I walked down the halls with my head down. For some reason, I felt like all eyes were on me today.
And no, I didn't mean that in a condescending way. I meant that in a "everyone's giving me judgmental looks" way.
They whispered as I walked past them and stared in a way that screamed "I can't believe she did that."
It made my senses tingle and the hair behind my neck rise in alarm. I haven't been bullied or cornered since the 8th grade grade. I had gotten used to getting bullied at one point but it had ended years ago so I don't quite remember how I should act to cope with bullying. I mean who would've thought that I'd get bullied as a freaking senior in high school? You'd think I was at the top of the food chain now, but nope. I honestly don't know what I would do if they started to bully me again.
I soon found out why they were giving me funny looks, though. Plastered all over my locker door was posters of a picture of drunk me at the club a few nights ago. I was laughing at something, looking at Ty as I slightly leaned at him, my elbow nudging his side as we stood just outside of the door to the house. The party lights that filtered out of the windows beside the main exit landed on the ground around us. Ty was smirking as he looked down at me.
Under the picture, the words "PARTY SLUT" were printed in a shocking neon pink.
Since I was conveniently drunk off my face that night, with 0% of sobriety, I have no recollection of what actually happened. But it was easy enough to understand why people was gossiping about me. I knew I didn't do shit with Ty that night because I had woken up on Kimmy's bed, in her room, but my inner conscience still yelled "SLUT" at me.
Safe to say, I felt attacked.
Not that I was trying to slut-shame anyone here, my conscience was just stricter on myself more than anyone else because I was raised in an environment that required me to maintain a prestige reputation.
I whipped around, trying to find out who did this to my locker, as if that has ever worked in any movies I've ever watched. Note the heavy sarcasm here. I knew it was pointless because I already knew who did this and I knew I wasn't going to find her in the crowd. There was only one person that would put this much effort to humiliate me.
Everyone gave me similar looks and I had no doubt that they all saw the posters. If they haven't passed my locker and seen the decorations, they've probably received a soft copy of it through text messages. Shit travels fast in this school. Gossip spreads like wildfire.
I couldn't hold back the tears even if I wanted to. It wasn't like I wanted to cry. I didn't want to look weak by crying over something so childish and petty. But there was just something about being humiliated this way. Maybe it was because I've forgotten what it feels like to feel bullied and am no longer numb against it. I didn't know how to put up a strong front in this situation. I can't remember how I handled being bullied in the past but I know I probably handled it better than how I'm doing right now.
I ducked my head before anyone can see the tears in my eyes and snap anymore embarrassing pictures. I didn't want anymore of my pictures to be taken and printed to be pasted on my locker door and distributed to the entire student body. God knows what other captions they'll come up with next.
I didn't even bother opening my locker and taking my things, I simply hugged my bag to my chest and scurried off around the corner, towards the school's backyard.
I walked across the yard and circled it a few times, trying to find a safe space to break down in.
After a while, I decided that the shadowed corner was the safest stop, with the dense bush nearby and tall trees covering it from view. There was a fire escape door right by the hidden corner but unless God decided to light the school on fire, I don't think anyone's going to walk through that door and catch me weeping pathetically on my own.
I don't know how I feel about that. Not the being caught by someone crying like a big baby, but the school catching on fire part. I mean on one hand, I'm pretty sure it's every student's dream for their school to catch on fire one day and have school cancelled for the rest of the year; I'd be even more delighted if the fire would melt my locker and burn those posters plastered to it to ashes. But then I didn't want hundreds of students to burst through that door and catch me crying over a humiliating poster that was posted about me.
Then again, they would probably be panicking and be too busy trying to save themselves to actually notice me.
My weird train of thought still wasn't distracting me enough from feeling the humiliation and anger I felt. What can you do about being humiliated? I wasn't the type of girl to pick fights. I avoid confrontations unless I really have to have them so I'm not quite sure of what I can do about the anger brewing in me either.
What angered me more than the fact that someone went the extra mile to hurt me was that I'm actually giving them the reaction they want.
"Why are you so fucking weak?" I muttered angrily at myself as I roughly wiped my tears away.
Just as I was mumbling a few more not-so-nice things to myself, the fire emergency exit door that I didn't think anyone would use actually burst open.
Of course, it opened.
It was my lucky day, after all. Again, do note the sarcasm.
Out of pure reflex, my head turned to see who came out of the building through that door.
And, lo and behold, ladies and gentleman, then walked out the last person I wanted to see me like this.
Alexander West.
He had kicked the door open with his foot like it weighed nothing and stepped out, his hands in his pockets.
I don't think he noticed my presence because he proceeded to take out a box of cigarettes and a lighter. He took a cig out of the box and lit it before slipping the box and lighter back into his pocket.
He took a drag before taking the cig away from his lips and blew out a puff of smoke.
He squinted as he blew out some more, a cloud of grey smoke escaping through the gap between his lips. He flicked the cig, something that looked like he was doing unconsciously, out of habit, more than anything else.
When he finally looked down from gazing at the sky, his eyes widened as he caught sight of me crouching by the bush, watching him silently the entire time. I didn't mean to be creepy but there was just something calming in watching him smoke his cig.
I know it's bad for your health, and it wasn't really the puff of smoke that he blew out that brought a sense of tranquility in me, it was more the expression he had on his face. It was the lack of the creases on his forehead and the smoothness of the skin between his brows. The traces of the usual frown that sat there was nowhere to be found.
When he caught my eyes, I quickly looked away. I knew that no matter how much I brushed away my tears, I will still look like a mess who just bawled her eyes out over a minor humiliation.
I just didn't want to see the look on his face when he catches on to what I was doing all alone in this hidden corner. My legs started to ache from crouching so long so I just decided to sit on the ground. I'll deal with consequences of the dirt sticking to my jeans later.
In the corner of my eyes, I saw Alex's cig fall to the ground and get snuffed out by the sole of his shoe before his shoes moved closer to where I was sitting on the ground.
He stopped a few feet away and sat beside me, facing the same direction I was facing.
"You alright?" He asked, surprising me.
I shrug after the surprise wore off. "They're just pics, right?"
Of course, they weren't just pictures, and we both knew that. People were going to talk. That's just how people are. I've long accepted that but I guess it's still hard to be okay with it. But neither of us wanted to address the elephant in the room. The person behind all of this and why they were doing this.
Alex definitely has an idea of who it was. After all, everything began with him.
Long story short, Diana, Alex's childhood friend, and I mean a childhood friend that has known him way earlier than I have, had a crush on him. This was public knowledge and Diana was my friend. When I started getting close to Alex, I didn't think of what others might think of our friendship. I was just happy that I had a friend like Alex.
To put it simply, Diana didn't like the fact that I grew close to Alex. She felt like I had stolen Alex from her and she basically hated my guts ever since. It's been 4 year since everything happened so obviously, she's moved on, but I was forever labelled as the backstabbed in her books. So, whereas her crush on Alex has faded, her hatred over me was far from gone.
She's been taking jabs at me ever since but she's never slammed a brick at my dignity like this.
This was definitely a first.
And not that I was blaming him for the situation. I knew it wasn't his fault that this was happening and I knew he didn't want any of this to happen. Things just turned out the way it did.
"I'll talk to her." He said finally. It might be my imagination but I might have heard guilt in his tone. But I didn't want to make wild guesses and end up embarrassing myself. One embarrassment a day is enough for me.
I sighed wistfully. Oh, if only that would work. We both know that he won't be able to get through her. She has no leftover feelings for him and her hatred towards me was no match for Alex.
We sat there in silence, not knowing what to say, so it got awkward really quick.
I got up to my feet, taking the shift in the mood as my cue to leave.
"Well, don't mind me. Go do whatever you came here to do," I pursed my lips, trying to do a smile. I gestured at his body, not quite sure what I was doing.
I pointed behind me as I walked backwards, "uhm, I'll... get going, now."
I nodded and turned away slowly as Alex head tilted to the side slightly and watched me mutely.
I closed my eyes shut and balled my hands into fist, trying to stop myself from hitting my head repeatedly for acting dumb and awkward.
He's just Alex, you dumbfuck.
When I walked back into the building, my unspoken guess was right. People did talk. A lot.
Of course, they didn't say it to my face. But I guess all the house parties with EDM blasting through the speakers has damaged some of their eardrums because these people did not know how to whisper quietly.
I was 6 feet away and I could still hear them say "What a fucking slut. Didn't you see her leave the party with like 3 other guys aside from the one that was in the picture with her? Do you think she banged all 4 of them? Damn, who would've thought."
I couldn't choose between laughing at the irony of the first sentence or curling up into a ball and cry at how much disgust was laced in her tone as she talked about me.
I wanted to sassily walk up to her and correct her like, "For your goddamn information, I'm a fucking virgin, thank you very much."
But the following catcalls and wolf whistles that were directed at me, made by the guys, was so off putting that it chased away all the sass I had in me.
Out of nowhere, a hand landed on my shoulder and a tall wall with broad shoulders covered my view of the students who were harassing me.
The guys scattered like scared mice and a simple "Mind your own business," had the girl that was whisper-yelling about me looking away.
When everyone finally went away to go do their own shit again, I finally felt like my brain and senses were working again.
For some reason, the words that came out of my mouth next was unfiltered.
"I appreciate it. But I'd just like to say something. I know you might've changed, but I haven't. I would still like to fight my own battles. So, please don't get involved."
It was like all the sass and anger that surged back to me got redirected and shot at the guy who just defended me.
Alex didn't wait around for an explanation or an apology from me. He got the memo and walked away.
I felt a pinch of guilt that started to grow as I stood there on my own, staring at the space Alex took until a second ago.
I knew I was pushing him away, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt me to do so.
It wouldn't take a genius to know how much I missed having him as a friend.
But I just didn't want to get hurt again.
He left me once and then twice. There wasn't a need for a third time.
It wasn't a walk in the park for me to pick myself up every time he walked away from me. I'd have trouble eating, falling asleep. I'd constantly wonder what I did wrong, what I could've done better to make him stay, and everything would remind me of him and bring a new wave of sadness.
I don't know if I can go through that again.
I'm sorry, Alex, but this time, I come first.