This video needs to be taken down before it screws everything up. No way in hell do I want to change schools again. My mom and I can’t go through that for a fourth time this year, and certainly not as a result of something stupid I’ve done—putting our lives at risk for a bitch and a glitter bomb. There are only so many airlines my mother can work for before she’ll start running into people she knows from before. Her resentment toward me is palpable every time she’s home for more than twenty-four hours. Plus, I actually like it here. I have really good friends whom I don’t want to lose.
“Who posted this video?” I demand in a serious tone.
Everyone stops talking and gives me a strange look.
“Ethan Moore,” Annalisa says slowly. “What’s wrong?”
“He needs to take it down.”
The video can’t be on the internet. Everyone has access to the internet. Anyone can see that video and see me in it and know where I am. And I bet Ethan hasn’t even restricted the privacy settings.
“Amelia, calm down,” Aiden says slowly, concern on his face.
Actually, everyone at the table is looking at me like Aiden is, their faces full of concern. What’s their problem? Why do I feel dizzy? Oh, I’m hyperventilating.
“Amelia? Don’t worry about the video. You look great in it, and it embarrasses Kaitlyn. She probably hasn’t seen it yet that’s why—ohh. You’re scared Kaitlyn’s going to see it and go ballistic?” Noah assumes.
Everyone takes Noah’s assumption and runs with it, talking at once.
Mason: “She won’t do anything, I promise.”
Annalisa: “If she tries something, we’ll kick her ass.”
Chase: “We’ll make sure you’re not alone.”
Charlotte: “She probably won’t even see it.”
Noah: “I better be there for the drama this time!”
Julian: “She won’t confront you again.”
“I don’t care about Kaitlyn!” I snap.
Around me, concerned expressions turn into looks of confusion.
“Okay,” Charlotte starts slowly. “What’s wrong, then? We’ll fix it.”
I freeze, realizing that I’m overreacting, which would betray at least some of the secrets I’m trying to keep. Honestly, they don’t know that it’s not just a video of me looking fierce and telling off Kaitlyn—they don’t know what’s at risk. My friends think this video is a good thing; another weapon in our arsenal to slight Kaitlyn.
But I don’t care about how I look in the video. I don’t care that Kaitlyn looks ridiculous. All I care about is that my face and voice are clear as day, for anyone to identify. Honestly, my phone is void of selfies, and I haven’t taken a picture of myself in nearly a year, nor let anyone else take one either. This petty high school drama can’t screw everything up.
But I can’t tell them that as they look at me expectantly.
“Oh . . .” I need to find Ethan Moore. Now. “You know, what’s posted online haunts you forever. I don’t want some future employer to find this video and not hire me because they think I’m some bitchy drama queen who has a fascination with glitter.”
I’m rambling, not even fooling myself. Six pairs of eyes blink at me. The seventh pair narrows at me. Stop analyzing me, Aiden. I’ll think of some better excuse later. My first priority is to find Ethan.
Standing up abruptly, I hastily collect my lunch, throwing my barely touched sandwich away. “I gotta pee, so I’ll see you later.”
Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I hurriedly start to leave without any further explanation. I get about halfway to the exit before realizing that I have no idea who the hell Ethan Moore is or how to find him. I pause midstep, do a one-eighty, and crash into the people behind me.
“Sorry,” I mumble to the pissed off line of disgruntled students behind me, and book it back to our lunch table. “Quick question, what does Ethan Moore look like?”
My friends look at me like I’ve completely lost my mind.
Chase says, “He’s a junior. Long black hair to his shoulders.”
“Here.” Annalisa turns her laptop to show me his Facebook profile picture.
I memorize the picture and turn back around without another word, on a mission to find Ethan. There’s only twenty minutes left of lunch, so, with no time to waste, I march down the hall. Chase told me that he’s a junior, so I stop the first people I recognize as juniors in the hall.
“Do you know Ethan Moore?”
About ten other kids give me the same blank stare before I end up at the right group. “Yeah,” says a kid with a shaved head and braces.
He doesn’t offer any more information. I stand there, nodding with my head to prod him to continue. The kid stares at me.
“And I can find him where?”
“Oh! Yeah, he’s usually in room 136. I’m always there with him but—”
“Thanks,” I mumble, and head to room 136, way too occupied in the task at hand to worry about social etiquette.
The door is cracked open, and I peek in first to see what I’m up against. There are about twenty boys crowded around two televisions hooked up to gaming systems. A few boys have controllers in their hands, thumbs moving quickly to kill the aliens on the screen. The ones watching crowd in closely, yelling instructions. I’ve clearly found the gamer room. From what I can tell, the majority of these boys are juniors, but some are younger. No one I know.
I spot Ethan—one of the boys with a controller in hand—instantly recognizing him from his Facebook picture.
Pacing outside the room, a game plan forms in my mind. How will they react to a girl in their gamer room? I think they’re past that age where they value games over girls, right?
I look through the door again. The majority look socially awkward, but who am I to judge? They could all have girlfriends or boyfriends for all I know. Being nice is probably the way to go. First, I take a calming breath. Forcing myself to put on a cute smile, I fluff out my hair. I take another calming breath, trying not to let my anger and the urgency of the situation show through.
Be friendly.
“Hi!” I lighten my voice to sound more polite and friendly.
All twenty boys freeze, then turn their heads to look at me, not even caring that the ones playing just died.
“Are you lost or something?” one asks, not rudely, but in a genuinely concerned tone.
My cheeks hurt from smiling this wide. “No, of course not! I’m actually looking for Ethan Moore.”
Nineteen pairs of eyes gawk at Ethan, wondering how and why a senior girl knows his name. Ethan sits there with a slightly shocked face, but recovers quickly, trying to seem cool for his friends.
“That’s me, babe,” he says.
I resist the urge to drop the act.
“Could I talk to you for a second?” I ask politely.
“Anything for you, hot stuff.”
Seriously dude? Hot stuff? The fake smile stays plastered on my face and I wait patiently as he gets up and walks over to me.
Up close I can see that his shoulder-length black hair is slightly greasy, tied back in a little elastic band. He’s grinning and his brown eyes are alight with curiosity and boastful pride.
The corner of the room affords us some privacy from his friends, who are still gawking at me. When Ethan reaches me, I open my mouth to talk, but I’m unnerved by their stares. Plus, Ethan keeps looking back at his friends with a that’s-right-the-pretty-girl-wants-to-talk-to-me kind of gloating face. His whole demeanor comes off way too cocky. I love confidence in a guy, but this is too much. Ethan wears himself like he has to work extra hard to prove that he’s confident, instead of just being that way.
When Aiden walks into a room, it’s filled with his presence. He naturally commands attention and respect without even having to do anything. Even the way he holds himself radiates
confidence, and the way he—wait, since when did I use Aiden as a role model for anything? Why am I even thinking about him? It’s definitely the stress messing with me.
Focus, Amelia!
I turn to Ethan’s friends, who are blatantly checking me out. “You guys can continue playing your game now. Don’t mind us.”
Ethan looks at his friends, too, gloating. “Yeah, guys, she’s here to talk to me.” He looks at me and winks. “Don’t worry about them, babe, I’m all yours.”
“I don’t know if you know me, but my name’s Amelia Collins. I’m in that video you posted.”
“Oh yeah! I knew you looked familiar! You’re awesome! I saw you telling off Aiden too! You totally kick ass!” he exclaims.
I feel my smile become genuine. Maybe this kid isn’t bad and this will go pretty smoothly. “Yeah?”
“Totally! We hate Kaitlyn! She deserved what you said to her. Your insults are hilarious too! Did you see how she reacted? I can show you; I got it on video!”
Maybe I was too quick to judge him. Maybe my first impressions of people are off. After all, I thought the Boys were all assholes and they turned out to be my best friends here. As much as I hate to admit it, even Aiden isn’t horrible.
“Actually, I did see the video, and that’s what I came to talk to you about.”
“You want a copy? I can get you a copy!” I guess he dropped his cocky attitude and is now in I’m-trying-to-impress-royalty mode.
“No, the opposite actually.”
He freezes, looking confused. “What do you mean?”
“I want you to take the video down and delete it.”
He looks at me like I just told him I eat butterflies and he should try some. “Why would I do that?”
“I would just really appreciate it if you could take it down, please. For me?” I beg, trying the cute girl approach as I don’t think he’ll buy the future-employers-see-this excuse.
“No way in hell! You couldn’t pay me enough to take that video down. Kaitlyn makes a complete fool of herself.”
“Listen, I know no one likes Kaitlyn—”
“No. I’m not taking that video down.” His voice turns hard, no longer happy that I’m talking to him. “She embarrasses herself, and it’s hilarious. Plus, I’m getting mad traffic to my Facebook page.”
“I’m sure she’ll do something even worse. And you’ll be there to tape it again. Please? Just take it down.” My nice attitude is wearing thin. I thought this would be easy.
He crosses his arms and turns away from me, his cocky attitude back. “No way, sugartits. The video stays.”
My nice façade cracks. I’m in his face now, blocking his exit, and putting authority in my voice. “Listen. I need the video off. Now.”
“I said no,” he says, eyes narrowing.
“And I’m telling you. Take. It. Down.”
He pulls out his phone and scrolls through it, stopping at the video and playing it, holding it out for me. “See this? This is hilarious. It’s staying.”
It takes everything I have to restrain myself from reaching out and twisting his arm to grab the phone from him. I could easily just use my jujitsu on him and forcibly delete the video, but that would draw even more attention to myself. I already have enough attention on me by hanging out with the Boys and being number one on Kaitlyn’s To Destroy list.
“It’s staying.” He puts his phone back in his pocket.
“I need it down.”
Don’t hit him, don’t hit him.
“You want it down badly, huh?”
I nod at him. He gives me a creepy, cocky smile. Looks like try-too-hard-to-be-confident Ethan is back.
“I’ll take it down. For a blow job.”
Don’t break his nose. Don’t break his nose.
“Are you serious?”
“One hundred percent. Do that for me and I’ll take down the video for you.” He gives me a triumphant smile and brushes my hair off my shoulder with grubby fingers, his hand lingering on my shoulder. He actually thinks I’m that desperate. Well, I am desperate, but I’d never sell myself like that.
I can’t hold it anymore. Reaching up to the hand he left on my shoulder, I grab his wrist and pull it in front of me, twisting it in the process. He stands up on his tiptoes, trying to lessen the pain I’m causing.
“Listen to me, you little perv.” My tone is venomous. “Don’t you ever try to blackmail a girl into sucking your dick. Don’t ever try to blackmail girls, period. Treat girls with some respect and maybe you’ll find some delusional chick who is willing to be your girlfriend. You don’t coerce people into sexual favors.” I twist harder, my anger stealing some of my control. “Who do I look like to you? Do I look like the type of person who would sell her dignity? I asked you nicely, now I’m not. Take the video down or I snap your wrist.”
His eyes widen a little, considering my threat. He’s a gamer. He needs his wrist. Despite the pain I know I’m putting him in, Ethan looks at me defiantly. “Do it and I sue you for all your worth. My dad’s a lawyer and I have nineteen witnesses.”
The word lawyer catches me immediately. There can be no court cases or charges, and we’re not alone in the room—there are many, many witnesses. And so I loosen my grip on his wrist a little. Taking a deep breath and noticing the other boys in the room staring with wide-open mouths, I let go of Ethan’s wrist completely. He brings it to his chest, rubbing it, his look triumphant. The bell rings, signaling that lunch is over and that we have five minutes to get to class.
“The video stays,” he says, walking back to his friends, who start leaving the classroom, still giving me weird looks.
I was right about him being a douche when I first met him. My eyes narrow after the gamers’ retreating forms, seeing endless possibilities of how to get Ethan to take the video down, most ending violently. This can’t end that way for obvious reasons, so I guess it’s time to start scheming.
10
The only thing on my mind when I hit the gym before school is the obnoxious look on Ethan’s face from yesterday. Ever since what happened led to us being here in King City, I’ve been keeping up my workouts. Partly because I can’t be caught off guard again, and partly because it makes me feel better to work it all out on the mats.
I take extra care on my makeup and give myself ample time to get to school early once I’m finished.
Last night I packed the most slutty-yet-still-appropriate-for-school outfit I own. It’s a tight skirt and a fitted black T-shirt that’s low cut and has a zipper down the front. I give myself one last approving look in the gym mirror before I leave for school.
I’m so early that the junior hallway is eerily quiet. I’m trying not to look suspicious standing casually beside the hallway closet. Eventually, a janitor goes in, and when he leaves, I quickly wedge my foot in to stop the door from closing. Taking a casual look around, I pull out a wad of paper and jam it into the side of the lock so it won’t activate when the door closes. Still facing the hallway, I close the door to test it, making sure it doesn’t lock, and then leave the door closed, ignoring my beating heart.
Now that the hard part is out of the way, I just have to wait. It takes a bit, but eventually I spot Ethan, walking with one of his friends. I note which locker is his, and leave the hallway, hoping that the jam holds throughout the day.
During my morning classes, I’m a little spaced out, still thinking about how that video Ethan posted has been online for a full day now. I haven’t even told my mom. I can’t risk her reacting and calling in a favor, deciding this is the last straw, and then we’re moving again. None of my friends called me out on my vacant attitude until lunch.
Noah waves his hand in front of my face to gain my attention. “Earth to Amelia!”
“Sorry, what?”
“We asked how you did on your calculus test. The one we just got bac
k,” Noah says. Everyone’s at the table except for Aiden.
“How do you think I did!?” I snap.
They all give me shocked expressions, surprised that I snapped at Noah for asking an innocent question.
I sigh. “I’m sorry, Noah. I’m just really stressed.”
“Is this about yesterday?” Charlotte asks hesitantly.
“I guess,” I say.
“About Ethan?” Annalisa asks.
They’re not stupid. They know I acted all unhinged because of the video; they just don’t know why. “I asked him to take it down nicely. He firmly said no. I threatened him; he reminded me that there were witnesses in the room. Long story short, he didn’t take the video down.”
“This is really bothering you?” Mason asks and I nod, picking at my lunch. “I’ll talk to him, then. He’ll listen to me. If not, I’ll meet him somewhere where there aren’t any witnesses.”
“Don’t worry about it. I got it covered.” I smile at Mason, looking into his brown eyes. I love chocolate.
“Are you sure? It wouldn’t be a problem,” Mason insists.
“It’s fine, really. Thank you, though.” I’m ready to change the subject. “So, who else failed that calculus test?”
It’s the end of the day and I’m impatiently waiting for the final bell to ring. I’m sitting beside Mason in sociology class. Anxiously fidgeting in my seat, I’m staring down the clock like if I focused hard enough, I could will time to speed up. When the bell finally rings, I jump up and out of my seat, barely throwing a good-bye over my shoulder to the three boys. Getting to Ethan’s locker is the only thing on my mind. I get a few feet down the hall before I feel a presence that’s impossible to ignore walking beside me.
“I need to talk to you,” Aiden says, his expression giving nothing away.
“Great. Later.”
Escaping Aiden, I’m swallowed up by the crowded hallway. Ethan’s almost at his locker. Just in time. He spins his lock and enters his combination: 13–35–08. I repeat this sequence multiple times, making sure to memorize it. He opens his locker and puts his laptop on the top shelf, making room for his other textbooks. It’s time to make my presence known.
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