Aveena
I was hoping the next few days would get easier.
Hint: they didn’t.
I’ve barely stepped out of my room since I phoned my mom two days ago, faking the worst headache of my life. After I abandoned Xavier by the school exit, I drove myself home, turned off the lights and my phone, then crawled into bed.
I haven’t left it since.
I couldn’t bear the thought of opening social media and seeing mentions of our confessions all over my feed. I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours praying for this mess to miraculously go away. For people to stop talking about us, and move on to the next juicy gossip.
Problem is, in a town as small as Silver Springs, the “juicy” gossip is never that juicy. There’s a fat chance any of them will top our dirty little secrets. I’m not senseless. I know there’s no way Zac and Love will be ancient history by the time I go back to school, which will have to be soon, to my great misery.
I doubt Mom will buy the headache act much longer.
Reaching for my phone tucked away in my bottom drawer, I draw a long, shaky breath before turning it back on. The screen flashes white for a minute. Then it all comes rushing back—an unwelcomed reminder that just because I stopped living in the world doesn’t mean it stopped turning.
I have five unopened messages from Xavier.
And six from Dia.
Xavier: Are you okay?
Xavier:Vee?
Xavier:Please talk to me.
Xavier: I’m so fucking sorry about what happened.
Xavier: Vee,at least tell me you’re okay, I’m going crazy.
I tap out of the conversation without answering. Two days have passed and I still don’t have it in me to face him.
Dia: Vee? What’s going on?
Dia: Why haven’t you been at school?
Dia:Are you ok?
Dia: Vee, please, call me back. I’m worried about you.
Dia: Look, I hate to tell you this over text, but people have been talking. I don’t know what to think.
Dia: You should take a look at this.
Dia attached four screenshots.
I suspected the students at Easton would be curious about Zac and Love, but the images in front of my eyes call me blind.
Naïve.
Thisisn’t healthy curiosity.
This is a witch hunt.
The first picture shows a recently created, private Facebook group called“WHO WROTE THE CONFESSIONS? #FindZacAndLove”with, believe it or not, two hundred and ninety-seven members.
What the…