A big part of me knows we shouldn’t have done it. There are all kinds of ways to handle our problems, after all. Better ways to deal with the issues.
But what Misha said was true. Everyone is ugly, aren’t we? Some wear it and some hide it.
I guess I just got tired of Trey hiding it.
And of everyone allowing him to keep it hidden.
I did a bad, bad thing.
“Oh, my God,” a guy mumbles off to my side, and I look over to see him reading something I’d written Saturday night.
“Hey, did you see this?” a girl gasps, asking her friend as they gape at the opposite wall.
I look down the corridor, seeing several messages written here and there and people fluttering about, taking it all in.
You shouldn’t be caught alone with me. You’ve been asking for this.
-Trey Burrowes
Can you even find your dick anymore, faggot?
-Trey Burrowes
I’m going to fuck her and then fuck her mom. Watch me.
Every corner you turn, every night when you go to sleep, I’ll be there, and I’m going to find out exactly what I’ve been missing.
Doesn’t take long for you little bitches to turn slut once you get a taste for it.
You should’ve seen the train we pulled on this girl last week. She had guys lined up. It was so fucking good.
Head down, ass up, that’s the way we like to fuck.
Trey, Trey, and more Trey.
We keep walking, passing the quotes all four of us wrote on the walls, lockers, and floors Saturday night, turning down another hall and seeing even more.
Not all of them are about Trey, though. Some of them are attributed to Lyla, Katelyn, a couple of Trey’s friends, and even me.
Because of course, saying you’re sorry is easy. Facing the shame is where atonement begins.
One of these nights, I’ll get you in the parking lot, and I’ll spread those pretty legs and fuck you right there on the ground. Would you like that, baby?
-Trey Burrowes
“That’s disgusting,” a junior girl says, wincing.
Another girl takes out a pencil and writes underneath the They all want it message.
No, we don’t, she writes.
The hallways are a flurry of activity, and we tried to keep our posts to the two main corridors, mostly because everyone passes through these hallways when they come into school.
People are captivated, though. Some girls look angry and disgusted. Some guys are surprised.
“All students please report to the auditorium,” the vice principal’s voice carries over the loudspeaker. “All students please report to the auditorium.”
Ten stops us in the hallway, looking nervous but amused. “Looks like we broke the bank on this one.”