A Bad Boy in my life

Fifteen

One year ago

"Margo, it's been three days," Ashley poked me from the foot of the bed.

"Three days," as if three days could erase the fact that my social life had been utterly destroyed. I felt her body settle next to me on the bed.

"You can't keep avoiding school. Get up. Eventually, people will move on," she said, though it seemed impossible that anyone could forget something so quickly unless they had amnesia.

People might forget individual events, but they never truly forget. Whenever people looked at me in that school, I would forever be known as "the girl from the locker room video."

"But until then, I just want to disappear from the world."

"Yeah, but that's not going to happen. You need to learn to face your problems instead of waiting for them to magically go away," she pulled me out of bed.

I rolled my eyes.

"Remember, today is the parent-teacher meeting. You can't skip it!" she reminded me.

It was true. This was one of those tedious meetings to discuss student matters, and the school made it mandatory for parents to attend. Unfortunately, my dad never missed a single one.

"Margo," he appeared at my bedroom door, "did the diarrhea not go away, or are you feeling better to go back to school?"

Ashley glanced at me, clearly unsure how to respond. But before I could say anything, she jumped in.

"She's great, Mr. Steve! She even told me that she's passing gas with a stronger odor"

I shot her a dirty look.

I could have come up with a less embarrassing excuse for not going to school these past few days, but my creativity failed me.

"I knew Grandma's remedy would work," he said, referring to the remedy I pretended to take before discreetly pouring it down the sink, and then he left.

***

I knew that the moment I stepped back into that school, all eyes would be on me. So, as I made my way to school, I mentally prepared myself for what awaited me. Or so I thought.

All the students were already heading to the auditorium with their parents for the meeting led by Principal McNamara. I didn't want my dad to accompany me down the hallway, where everyone would stare at me as if I were inappropriately dressed at a formal event. So, I asked him to save me a seat while I went to the bathroom with Ashley.

I took a deep breath, trying to bolster my courage as I examined my reflection in the mirror, with Ashley's supportive hand on my shoulder.

When I emerged from the bathroom, fate had other plans for me. I happened to cross paths with Lizzie and her two cronies. The trio of the most insufferable girls at the School of Progress.

I used to have a neutral opinion of Lizzie, never really caring much about her. But everything changed when she orchestrated a malicious plan that left me shattered. It began with her manipulating John Brashier into seducing me, luring me into a vulnerable state. Little did I know that our encounter in the boys' locker room was nothing more than a setup—a trap to capture our intimate moments on camera.

Once Lizzie had the video in her possession, she wasted no time in spreading it throughout the entire school, exposing my most private moments for all to see. The consequences were devastating, rippling through every aspect of my life—social, psychological, and academic. It was a betrayal of the cruelest kind, a betrayal that scarred me to my core.

Looking back, I realize I should have seen through John Brashier's charade. Deep down, I should have known that he had no genuine interest in me, that I was merely a pawn in his game. But in my naivety, I fell for his deceptive allure, captivated by the allure of popularity and affection. It was a harsh lesson, a lesson that taught me the importance of guarding my trust and not giving it away so freely.

From that moment on, I vowed to be cautious, to question the intentions of those who sought my company. I learned that not everyone deserves my trust, that true friendship and genuine affection are earned, not handed out indiscriminately. The pain of that betrayal became a catalyst for growth, a catalyst for me to become stronger and wiser in navigating the treacherous waters of human relationships.

"Look who decided to show up again," Lizzie sneered in her annoying voice. "Finally, the star of the show has arrived."

"Shut up, Lizzie," Ashley snapped.

"I wasn't talking to you, girl," Lizzie retorted, her tone dripping with disdain.

"And I didn't summon the devil, but here you are," Ashley fired back, and I stifled a laugh.

Lizzie took threatening steps toward me.

"Hope you enjoy your little spectacle, Antonella," she taunted, invading

my personal space.

I wanted to deliver an equally cutting response, but instead, what came out of my mouth was:

"Hope your nails get stuck up your ass when you finish painting them, Lizzie."

Ashley grabbed my hand, pulling me away, and we left the bathroom.

**

"Why did it take you so long? Mrs. McNamara has already started speaking," my dad asked as I sat next to him, while Ashley went to sit with her mom a couple of rows ahead.

I watched Principal McNamara deliver speeches about new school initiatives from the makeshift podium set up in the auditorium, pointing to the slideshows playing on the screen behind her.

"Oh, nothing important," I replied.

The first ten minutes felt like an eternity as I endured the monotony of the teachers' voices amplified through the microphones. Every now and then, I caught students whispering to one another, their gazes fixated on me, and I knew exactly what they were discussing. In that moment, I wished I could vanish, disappearing beneath the seats.

But then, everything took a turn for the worse. The image on the screen shifted, and I felt my heart sink. It was a video—my worst nightmare. The teachers exchanged bewildered glances, clearly perplexed as to who was responsible for this, while the screen showcased the most humiliating moments in front of over three hundred parents and students.

If I had previously wished to vanish, now I longed for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

I sensed Ashley's sympathetic gaze upon me, but all I could do was look at my dad beside me, his eyes swollen with a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief. He was too stunned to utter a word, alternating his gaze between the screen and me. If disappointment could kill, my dad would have dropped dead right then and there.

And all I could think was how royally screwed I was, drowning in a sea of crude laughter and lewd remarks emanating from the video.

That moment marked the final nail in my coffin. I didn't know what to do except run away, with no intention of ever returning.

I sprinted without thinking, desperate to escape. I didn't care where I was headed. When I finally came to a stop, I found myself in a dimly lit alley, seeking solace amidst the refuse. The stench was overpowering, but in that moment, it felt oddly fitting. I felt as though I belonged there, surrounded by the discarded remnants of society.

I had never, ever experienced something so excruciatingly humiliating. Until that day.