I chose not to let this thing mess with my life, and for the most part, it didn’t. I hung out with Pauly, who remained an amazing friend, and a few other friends who didn’t give half a fuck about what the mob thought. And I had Alex, Jadie, Sarah, and all the other punk rock chicks who weren’t Ainsley.
Besides, it wasn’t all bad. In putting me through this bullshit, Ryan had chosen to oust himself from the punk scene. He knew that door was shut to him. The loss must’ve been tangible, since he was the one who introduced me to them in the first place.
Still. There were a lot of shitty days at school.
The shittiest day came just before everything stopped.
I walked into school one morning to find the gymnasium had been graffitied.
WHY ARE YOU A SLUT, L?
Everyone knew who L was.
L was Lara, and Lara was me.
And that was a pretty good question. Why was I a slut, indeed? A slut who still hadn’t gone farther than second base with her steady boyfriend. Strange were the ways of the universe, I supposed.
The minute I saw it, I straightened my spine, tilted my chin up, and plastered a smile on my face. Nobody, and I do mean nobody, was going to take my happiness away from me.
Actually, that wasn’t true. Some people did have that power over me. Like Alex, and Pauly, and my family. But the thing those people had in common was, I knew they wouldn’t abuse this power. I knew I was absolutely in danger of being ripped apart emotionally. But I also knew I had control over who could do this to me. These strangers, these people I didn’t know who chose to believe the worst about me?—they weren’t the people worthy of my tears.
During morning assembly, Pauly sat to my right, holding my hand, while the principal yelled his lungs out trying to figure out who wrote the graffiti.
To my surprise, a hipster dude named Brent decided to sit beside me. He was a senior, pretty hot, and infinitely cool. I was pretty sure he was hooking up with a girl from the volleyball team who moonlighted as a model, so I was inclined to believe he wasn’t sitting next to me in hopes he could get some from the new, token school slut.
“Hey.” He bumped his shoulder against mine.
I side-eyed him, offering a hesitant smile. True, I didn’t think he was coming on to me and he didn’t look like a dick, but I didn’t really know him.
“I just want you to know I think you’re pretty damn cool. Like, the way you’re handling all this bullshit? Kinda gold.”
“Thanks.” My muscles eased against the bleachers.
“I like that you don’t let the clones bring you down.”
I wasn’t going to thank him every time he said something nice, so I just nodded, silently offering him some gum. He took one, popping it into his mouth. I sat back, elbows on the bleachers behind him, the epitome of confidence, and grinned as we all looked down at Principal Prems.
“I’m Brent.”
“I’m Lara, and I have a boyfriend,” I said primly. “One that, according to the rumors, will beat me up if I cheat on him.”
He laughed. A low, gravelly chuckle.
“We don’t want that, Lara With a Boyfriend,” he said. “So I suppose we’ll just have to be friends.”
I told Alex about the graffiti that day. We were talking on the phone, each of us tucked in their respective bed. The last few weeks—months, even—were so busy with school and punk rock stuff and mustering the emotional strength to be happy, I didn’t have time to think about having sex with him.
At some point, I heard background noises.
Noises of Alex getting into his car.
Slamming the door.
Starting it.
Driving.
“Where are you going at this hour?” I murmured sleepily. It was getting late. One or two in the morning. “Your side piece?”
“Why would I go to my side piece when my girlfriend is such a slut?” he jested. I smiled tiredly. My eyes were fluttering shut.
“Go to sleep, Honeypie. I’ll pick you up from school tomorrow. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I arrived at school the next day to witness the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for me to date. I think I will always hold a precious place in my heart for Alex for this. For what he did in the middle of that night, when he knew I had a day full of BS.
The gymnasium’s wall, which had been painted less than a day before to cover the offensive graffiti, had a brand new graffiti.
I LOVE YOU, HONEYPIE :D
P.S. RYAN BASKIN EATS A BAG OF DICKS EVERY MORNING FOR BREAKFAST
Alex loved me.
He. Loved. Me.
Me. Who was a pain in the ass.
Me. Who wasn’t ready to even consider getting into bed with him.