Page 285 of Filthy Elites

I reach out blindly and grip the edge of the sink to keep myself standing up. My brain is frozen with horror. Somehow, I get out, “Take that down. Right now.”

I know it’s too late, that some people will still have seen it, but most people should be on their way to class…

Yeah, walking the halls, playing on their phones.

Oh my god. Everyone is going to see this.

“Anae, I’m serious. Take it down.”

“Nope,” she says cheerfully, pointing at her phone screen without touching it. “Would you look at that? Already 37 likes.”

Oh my god.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

I feel like throwing up. I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. My heart pounds so hard I can’t hear anything else, and I can’t think clearly.

She looks over at me, smiling as she drops her phone into her Chanel handbag. “Hey, maybe it’ll go viral.”

I want to kill her.

I want to grab a fistful of her glossy blonde hair and bang her head against the edge of the sink until she is lying in a bloody heap on the fucking floor.

“Take the videodown,” I tell her, “or I will go to the police.”

“No, you won’t,” she says easily. “Even if you do, I don’t care. What’s the fine, like a thousand dollars? That’s a pair of shoes for me, and a price I wouldhappilypay to see this look on your face.” She folds her hands together like it’s just too darling and looks over at Mallory. “Isn’t this a lovely moment? I’m going to treasure it.”

I let go of the sink and turn around, making a beeline for the exit.

“Oh, and Aubrey?”

I glance back at her.

She loses her smile, her eyes cool and threatening. “In case you didn’t get the message: stay the fuck away from my boyfriend.”

Tears blur my vision as I leave the school without going back to my locker for my books. I don’t even think to look both ways before crossing the parking lot, but fortunately it’s pretty dead since the first class of the day is starting.

My hands tremble as I fish my keys out of my purse and jam the car key into the ignition. I feel too shaky to really trust myself to drive, but I alsohaveto get out of here.

While I’m driving home, the horror and humiliation wash over me again and again. I get a couple of messages. One from Hannah that just says, “Oh my god, are you okay??” Another from Janie that says, “Did you really send that picture to Chase Darington?”

I don’t answer since I’m driving, but when I finally pull in, I don’t answer, either. I don’t want to talk to anyone.

Well, no, that’s not true.

I sniffle, angrily swiping a tear away from my puffy eyes and grab my phone out of the cup holder. Finding the message chain between me and Dare, I type, “WHAT THE FUCK?”

I push send, sniffle again, then debate what else to say. There’s so much, I don’t even know where to begin.

I have no clue where he stands on all this.

It’s hard to imagine I wouldn’t have heard from him right away if he saw the post and was somehow surprised by it. It’s hard to imagine how that could even be. How would she have gotten the picture if he didn’t give it to her?

And when did she shoot that video? I only sent him the picture Friday night.

Then again, it was late, and he was at her house.

Did he spend the night?

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