C8 Chapter Eight

Brielle

6:53 AM

Sam and I made our ways to our lockers, trying to ignore what everyone was talking about. However, it only got worse as we continued, with people blatantly staring and pointing at us. When we passed a group of football players, they let out a group of loud whistles, slapping each other on the back in approval and laughing. Without looking back, I flipped them my middle finger, before continuing down the halls. When we finally reached our lockers, Sam turned towards me.

"I think I might know why people are acting weird," she said, biting her lip nervously. "Do you remember anything about that party two nights ago?"

I shook my head no. The only thing that I remembered from that night was drinking way too much punch, and me and Christopher screaming at each other in his car. Everything else was just one big blur.

"Well," she dragged on, trying to stall. "You may or may not have danced on top of Christopher's dining room table before attempting to give a strip tease to the entire school."

My face turned ashen as my jaw dropped in disbelief. "You're joking, right?"

She shook her head remorsefully, looking at me with sympathetic eyes. "Sorry."

I banged my head on my locker, just wanting the day to be over. I groaned in agony, wishing that I was on my bed and eating while watching Gossip Girl.

"This day can't get any worse."

Just then, Melanie Stuart came strutting down the hall, her eyes locked on me. I flinched involuntarily, already anticipating her wrath. Melanie had only looked at me once before, and afterwards I stayed home from school for two days, crying and eating my feelings on my couch. To this day, I still shudder when I eat a Krispy Kreme donut.

She finally stopped in front of me. "Hey Brielle!" she said excitedly, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"Hey...?" I questioned, confused on why she was being nice to me. Either we had a serious kumbaya moment at Christopher's party, or she was up to something.

"Well," she gushed, a wide smile on her face. "I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about what happened to your outfit."

"What happened t-"

Before I could finish, Melanie reached into her bag, pulled out a purple Gatorade, and poured the cold liquid on top of my head. The hallway became silent as I stood, frozen, in shock. Melanie and her friends cackled as they high-fived each other, apparently content with their work.

My T-shirt was soaked, now revealing my red bra underneath. The stickiness of the drink began to set in as my fingers stuck together. Now I was seriously confused. What did me dancing on a table have to do with Melanie?

"What was that for?" I yelled, now snapped out of trance.

She stared at me with dark eyes, her previous nice-girl act nowhere to be found. "Did you really think that I wouldn't know that you left the party with Christopher?"

My eyes grew wide as the realization hit me. Everyone was whispering about me because they thought that I had slept with Christopher, not because I was dancing on a table. To be honest, I didn't know if that should make me feel better or worse.

"Save the innocence act, Christopher already confessed that you slept together. He felt so guilty that he told me."

What?

I knew that I didn't remember much from that night, but I could vividly recall Christopher dropping me off at my house after our argument in the car. So why would Christopher lie to her?