Page 35 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

That’s debatable.

Daniel pulls his hair while I make random shapes on the floor. I stop doodling on the floor when he clears his throat and straightens up. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” he answers. A snide reply floats through my mind, but I offer him a tight smile. He should have thought of the consequences before shoving his dick into another girl’s mouth. Of all girls, it had to be someone Maria and I hate. “I don’t remember much from that night. I was at the party, drinking, talking to some girls, then I went to take a leak. Can’t remember much after that. The whole evening kinda blurs after. Woke up with a massive headache the next day.”

On today’s episode of why you shouldn’t attend high school parties: you might black out, and someone blackmails you with a video. They need to be more like me, and there will be no drama. Four minutes since my class started, I’ll have to grab any available copy of The Great Gatsby to return it later. There is no time to make a copy, and I don’t want to be Ms. Eva’s plaything today.

His words hover my head like a halo, and a light bulb flips. Girls. He was talking to girls.

“What girls?” I say. His face scrunches in what should have been an adorable look of confusion, but I am tempted to slap him. Maria is ignoring me because of him. I ground my teeth in frustration when he doesn’t reply. “At the party, you said you were talking to some girls. What girls? Names? I need their names.”

“Michelle. Charlotte. Nia…” I nod as he spits out familiar names from school. They all have one thing in common. Cheerleaders who answer to Olivia. “Zoey and Olivia. That’s all…I think.”

“Olivia?” He nods again. I lick my lips as thoughts cloud my head. Olivia will go the extra mile to hurt me, but what does she stand to gain by blackmailing Daniel? I snatch his phone from him to rewatch the video. With a person in mind, the girl’s features become more noticeable—her high cheekbone and shiny black hair. It’s Zoey. “What did the person say? What do they want?”

“For me to stay away from Maria,” Daniel whispers. “Told me to cancel our date.”

The missing piece of the puzzle finally fits. The whole thing reeks of Olivia. It has to be her. To hurt me, she will hurt Maria. Fuck the witch, but it’s working. Does our beef ever end? To think we used to be best buddies. I close my eyes and push back those old memories. It’s not my fault.

“What happens if you don’t?” Tapping a finger to my pouted lips, I narrow my eyes.

Daniel shrugs. “They will release the video, I guess.”

“Do you care if they do?” I ask due to his nonchalance.

“Do I care if everyone in school sees a video of someone giving me a blowjob?” he says, and I cringe. That doesn’t sound like something I would want for myself either. “Yeah, I do. Maria would, too.”

“Fine. But I need to go now. I’ll talk to Maria later.” I grab my bag lying on the floor. It makes a bit of sense. Then again, it doesn’t. He can’t remember it actually happening, but there is a video of it. The video wins. “Thanks for taking me to the clinic but don’t do anything stupid, Daniel.”

I jog the rest of the distance to the library without waiting to hear his reply. On entering inside, I hurry to the literature section and pick out the first copy of The Great Gatsby I find on the shelf. A crumpled note falls out of the book as I am about to tuck it into my school bag. I look around to see if anyone is here, but there’s no one within walking distance. I open the novel and frown.

It is a letter. A handwritten letter.

My phone vibrates in my bag, drawing my attention to the time. I’m fifteen minutes late. I shove the letter into another copy of the novel but pause on second thoughts. I don’t feel comfortable leaving it here. What if the wrong person picks it? I know my school. They will probably upload it to BGC and make cruel jokes out of it. Scribbling hurriedly on a sheet I tear out of my note, I apologize to the owner of the letter and explain in two short lines why I took it with a promise to keep it safe. I shove the apology note into the novel, return it to the shelf, and walk out of the library.

All I need now is a reasonable excuse for showing up late to Ms. Eva’s class.

Twenty-Two

Did you read it?

I stare at the paper in my hands until the words blur. Yesterday when I came to return the letter, my note was untouched. But today, there is a reply. I shake my head like Lett—I have decided to call the owner of the letter that—can see me. I didn’t read it. I only caught a glimpse of the first line and chose not to. But right now, I am curious, and I might give in. Is it someone I know?

The handwriting is strange. Maybe, like me, the person has handwritings for different occasions. I tear out a note from my notepad to write out one word on it.No. Curiosity niggles me. I want to know what is in the letter. I need to know. I squash the paper and put up a new response—a lie.

Yes. Sorry.

Before my conscience weighs in, I shove the note into the novel, run out of the library, and drive out of the school like a character from Fast and Furious. I don’t stop to think until I am in my room, under the cover, with the letter in my hand. Taking a deep breath, I beg God for forgiveness and dive into it.

Hey mom, I hope you are happy. I hope you are happy knowing you picked your husband over us.

How do you sleep at night knowing you picked the father of the girl who molested your son over him? You say you love us, yet you force us to come to Thanksgiving and have Christmas dinners with your new family like we want to be there. You fought with dad a lot because of that, remember? You hated us being at home for Christmas dinners, and you wanted to be outdoors on Thanksgiving. How come you love it now?

With him, you pretend we are a happy family, that we are your whole life, but it’s a big lie. How can we ever be a happy family if you don’t love us? You hate us, mom. Why? A mother will never pick a man she just met over two kids she brought into the world. Jack can never be our father so stop trying to force him on us. Daddy might be dead, but he’s a better man than Jack will ever be. A better parent than you.

Why can’t you love us, mom? Is it because I shouted at you the last time we met? I am sorry, mom. I was so upset, and you refused to listen to me. You didn’t care that AJ no longer dances. You never listen to anything we say to you unless Jack agrees. But that’s okay. We forgive you. Parents don’t know it all. But please leave him. If you leave Jack, I promise we will be good boys. We won’t talk back at you. We will make you cheesecake; you still love it, right?

We can live anywhere, even in a shoebox. We won’t mind as long as we are all together. Let’s go back to the old days, the years after daddy’s death, before you met Jack. We were all we had, and we worked. You said we are your whole world. How do you exist without your world?

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