Page 77 of Perfect on Paper

“Everyone knows.”

She shrugged. Not her problem. “I imagine Ray told her friends what you did to her. Why shouldn’t she? She doesn’t owe you anything.”

“But…” But what? “It was my secret. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

Brooke was unmoved. “Yeah. It sucks to have your private shit handed out to people you didn’t want to know it, huh?”

Somehow, a part of me had figured telling Brooke was the right thing to do, and people didn’t get punished for making the right decision, so therefore I wouldn’t have to face the consequences. It was wrong to lie about what I’d done, so therefore, choosing not to lie about it should’ve absolved me, right?

Of course, that was ridiculous. Admitting I did something horrible didn’t magically erase the horrible thing I’d done. Neither did an apology. Owning the situation might have stopped the fallout from being worse than it otherwise could’ve been, but I still owed a karmic debt. My biggest sin here was not covering up what I’d done. It was doing it in the first place.

So, next step?

Pretend people aren’t staring at you. Go into class. Let Brooke sit as far away from you as she wants. Concentrate on the teacher. Survive.

Right now, that was my only option, wasn’t it? I’d let the wave dunk me, and pull me under, and hold my breath and wait it out. Hopefully, by the time I resurfaced I’d have a clearer idea of how to swim back to shore.

As it turned out, surviving class wasn’t my boss-level challenge.

It was surviving the period break.

I’d barely made it out of the classroom when a girl I’dspoken to a few times named Serena fought through the crowd of students to find me.

“I want my letter back,” she said.

My heart started racing. “I don’t have it. I rip up all the letters and throw them in the trash after I respond.”

“But you haven’t responded to me. I want my money, and my letter.”

For a moment I didn’t understand. I was almost certain I’d never missed a response. I systematically tore up the letters after I pressed send. Then—“Wait, when did you write in?”

“The day before yesterday.”

“I’m so sorry, usually I’m on top of it, but it’s been a crazy couple of days.”

She folded her arms. “I don’t care. I just want it back.”

Well, that was reasonable enough. “Sure. Can you meet me after school?”

“Now.”

Fucking—argh, okay. Fine. We had a couple of minutes. I sighed deeply and prayed to the maker for patience. “Come with me.”

Students jumped out of our way like we were on fire, torn from whatever had held their attention seconds earlier. A small, quiet sort of guy named Justyce broke away from a group of kids and fell into step beside Serena and me. “Are you two going to the locker?” he asked. “I wanna get my shit back from it.”

“Join the queue,” I muttered. I felt like a freaking shepherd with a flock of angry sheep.

Along the way, two girls I didn’t know silently joined us. By this point I didn’t even have the energy to greet them.They could all take their fucking letters, and I… well, I’d just have to sit with the shame of it all.

By the time we reached the locker, we were surrounded by a semicircle of spectators. I entered the combination, doing my best to shield it from the many, many eyes, and opened the door. “Okay, if you—” I started, but Serena darted forward and started digging around through the letters. One of the girls joined her, and Justyce hovered behind them, trying to see through the gaps in their shoulders.

“Can you give them to me, please?” I asked.

Unsurprisingly, no one gave any indication they’d heard me. I was shut out of the group completely as they fought to find their letters. A few envelopes escaped the shuffle and fell to the floor, sliding a little on the linoleum.

“Hey,” I protested, reaching a hand out. “Stop.”

A couple of students surrounding us let out cries of alarm. Suddenly, several students pushed ahead to examine the envelopes, both on the ground and in people’s hands. Snatching, and grabbing, and trying to figure out which letter was the one they had sent.

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