Confessions of a Queen B*

Untitled Part 50

"Are you suggesting I show this guy compassion after what he did?"

He leveled his gaze with mine, dead serious for once. "Yes."

"Why?" We stared each other down for several breaths, and when he couldn't give me a good reason, I turned for the door. "I have to go and re-write my editorial into an exposé and get it up before midnight."

A hand clamped around my wrist before I made it to the hallway. Brett pulled me back and blocked my escape. "For someone who gets her kicks picking on the in-crowd, I'd expected better from you, but I guess I was wrong."

"Excuse me?" I tried to get around him, but he was bigger than me and took up the entire doorway.

"You heard me, Lexi. You're one of the few people in school who has power-true power-to shape the school. You could be the hero for every unpopular kid in school, but you're too narrow-minded to see that."

"And what about you? You're the most popular guy in school. Perhaps you should be taking some of your own advice."

"That's what I'm trying to do." He waited until I gave up trying to get past him before continuing. "I know who Adam is because he's frequently a target of some of my teammates."

"And you condone this bullying?"

"No-not at all. I try to stop it as much as I can, but I can't be everywhere at once." He licked his lips, his face paling. "But when I did some digging in his school records, I found out some information I shouldn't have seen."

"Like what?"

"I've already gone out on a limb for you, and I'm not going to reveal any more damaging evidence." He raked his fingers through his hair, but it did little to hide the tremor in his hand. "But let's just say he's pretty fucked up. And if you publicly humiliate him like you're planning on doing, it may just tip him over the edge."

Even though he was doing his best to protect the kid, he'd told me enough to chill my blood. My anger congealed into a lump of fear centered in the middle of my throat. I had to swallow hard to choke it back down and find my voice again. "He can't get away with what he's done."

"I'm not suggesting you let him, nor am I condoning his actions. I'm just asking you to consider the consequences of your actions and give compassion a try over ball-busting for once."

Talk about ruining my perfect plans for revenge. I'd been so dead set on making that asshole pay, but somehow, Brett had me hesitating, thinking about the consequences of my actions. If I stayed here any longer, he'd probably talk me into treating Adam Kozlovsky to fro-yo and talking about our feelings. "I have to go before your mom comes back."

This time, he didn't stop me.

I went home and fired up my laptop, rewriting my editorial into a piece that would condemn Adam Kozlovsky. As I tried to paint a picture of the misogynistic voyeur I pictured him to be, I pulled out last year's yearbook and tried to find more information on him. I found him listed as a member of the chess club and the computer club, but when I looked at the pictures, he was absent. Last year's photo looked the same as this year's. Same frumpy appearance. Same blank, disengaged expression.

I stared at his photo, wondering the reason behind it. Brett mentioned he'd been bullied, but so had other kids in the school, especially freshmen. That didn't necessarily translate into fucked up.

Consider the consequences of my actions, huh?

I went back to my blog post. If I hit send now, everyone in the school would know what he'd done. Girls would never give him the time of day after this, and since the main target of his videos was the cheerleading squad, I'm sure some of their boyfriends would place him at the top of their shit list. He probably wouldn't be able to walk down the hallways without getting harassed by someone.

Repressed memories followed me from junior high when the in-crowd had chosen me as their target for harassment. That sick feeling I had in my stomach every time I walked through the door hit me again. I doubled over, my eyes wincing hard enough to squeeze out tears. I'd hated my life then. Thankfully, I'd had family to support me, to help me overcome that. I'd been strong enough to rise above the bullying.

The nausea gradually faded as I pushed back those memories and focused on how far I'd come.

I glanced back at the photo. Was he strong enough to do that? Or would I only make things worse? Would I push him over the edge like Brett had warned?

The clock read 11:45 p.m. I posted a quick note on my blog that my usual Friday post would be late and went to work rewriting my story.

Last week, I deviated from the norm here at the Eastline Spy and unintentionally became a conspirator in scandal. But now it's time to come clean. It's time to reveal some uncomfortable truths. And it's time to make people realize that certain things cross the line of what's acceptable.

My fingers trembled as I typed. I read through it one more time, satisfied with what I managed to come up with, and scheduled the blog post to go live at the start of fourth period.