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“You’ve already done enough, Ror.”

“I know, but no offense, Cal. I’m a senior and the homecoming queen. People are going to be more apt to talk to me.”

I ruminate a moment. She’s probably right.

“Okay. You go, and I’ll stay out of sight, ready to intervene if necessary.”

She nods. “It’s a plan.”

The campus is quiet on a Saturday. But at noon, Rory and I head toward the stadium. I’m armed with binoculars so I can see what’s going on.

Good. It’s a couple of girls who are waiting for Rory. Juniors.

I should have told Rory to turn on her phone so I could hear what was going on.

I watch, staying hidden.

After all, being invisible has its perks.

Until—

Rory crumples to the ground.

“Shit.” Now what? I don’t think. I run. Run toward my sister. One of the girls turns toward me. Pulls out what looks like—

“No!” I scream.

Then I crumple to the ground as well.

Donny is quiet.

I’m quite aware of my nakedness. I’m also aware that his cock is straining against his pants. He still wants me, and I still want him.

Still, those images from ten years ago are seared into my brain.

The day Pat Lamone got the best of us. Of Rory and me, and the day he threatened to destroy us.

We never found out what he had tranquilized us with. We guessed it was a simple veterinary tranquilizer dart because one of the girls he roped into helping him, Brittany Sheraton, was the daughter of the town vet.

By the time Rory and I woke up in the shed behind the baseball field, we were fully clothed, and several photos were strewn about us.

Photos of both of us. Naked. In very compromising positions.

Our eyes were closed. We were clearly unconscious. But to someone who didn’t know, we could have easily been there out of our own accord.

Then the texts came.

We meet tomorrow at noon, same place. We exchange evidence. Otherwise, those photos will be plastered on social media. The homecoming queen will be ruined. And so will her ugly duckling sister.

If I hadn’t yet considered every part of me invisible by that point, I did then.

The few blemishes—normal for any teenager—I suffered from became a terrible case of acne.

My well-proportioned breasts became small compared to Rory’s and Maddie’s.

It was a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I became the ugly duckling.


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