by Emma Doherty
“Um, well—”
I reach for the hem of my top and pull it over my head in one swift movement.
His eyes almost bulge out of his head. “What the hell are you doing?!”
I lift my foot up and pull off my left boot, throwing it onto the ground. I reach for my right foot and am just about to yank that shoe off too when there’s more knocking on the door.
I look up, squinting at Brendon, who has now backed away from me in horror. “Abigail! Put your shirt back on.”
“No,” I tell him simply. “We’re going to have sex.”
He looks like I’ve just told him I’m having his baby. Shock and complete and utter horror cover his face.
“Take your clothes off.”
“Abigail, you need to get dressed.”
“Oh shut up, Brendon. You have sex with everyone—everyone knows that—so you can have sex with me too.”
“Hey!” Even in my drunken state, I can tell he actually sounds annoyed at my character assessment of him. “I’m not that bad! I do have standards.”
This makes me straighten up. “And…what? Do I not meet your standards?”
“That’s not what I said.”
I roll my eyes and reach for the button on my jeans, snapping them open.
“Abigail.” Full-on panic has entered his voice now. “Stop it. Stop it right now. Do not pull your pants down.”
“Brendon, we are going to have sex. Get used to it.”
“What the fuck is happening right now?”
I scowl as there’s further banging on the bathroom door but choose to ignore it. “We’re having sex.”
“What?
Seriously, why do I keep having to go through this? “We’re gonna do it.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because you have sex with everyone and I want to.”
“You want to have sex with me?!”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Well, no, not really, but you’ll do.” I pause. “If I’m honest, I just want to have sex, and Aaron said no then you were the next person I saw.”
Despite the ridiculousness of this situation, he still manages to look affronted. “So I’m second best?”
“Who cares?”
“Abigail—”
“Just take your clothes off.”
I start to undo my zip and ease my jeans over my hips.
“Abigail!”
“We’re doing this,” I snap, starting to get seriously pissed off that he’s making this so difficult. Lack of resistance was one of the reasons he was supposed to be such a good choice for this.
“But why?”
“Because I can. Because I’m actually good at this. It’s the one thing other than makeup I’m actually good at.”
“What is going on?”
“I keep telling you we’re going to have sex. I promise I’m good. Ask Chase.”
His stops suddenly, understanding starting to take over his features.
“And to be honest, as it turns out, I’m not very good at most things. I’m not a good enough girlfriend or he wouldn’t have dumped me so many times, I’m not a good enough daughter or my mom wouldn’t bitch at me all the time, I’m not a good enough friend or I wouldn’t always be wondering if Sarah secretly hates me, and I’m not good enough at school or I wouldn’t be failing.”
He stares at me in complete silence.
“So right now, I’m going to do something I’m good at.”
His whole demeanor softens.
“What do you mean you’re failing?”
Shit. I let that one slip. I don’t say anything else as I watch him, swaying slightly on my feet. I really have had way too much to drink tonight.
“Abigail…” His voice is gentle. “You’re drunk. You’re gonna regret this tomorrow.”
“Pfft.” I steady myself against the sink and again try to ease my jeans down my thighs, but the distribution of my weight shifts and I end up falling forward, landing heavily on my shoulder, my ass up in the air.
“Fuck, are you okay?”
That’s when I start to cry.
I cry because I’m drunk in a bathroom getting rejected by Brendon. I cry because I just got publicly rejected by Aaron at his party in front of God knows how many people. I cry because Chase is in love with Livy, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to stop wanting him.
Most of all I cry because all my friends at this party are going to graduate without me in a couple of months and I’m going to be the loser left behind.
I shift my body, pulling myself into a foetal position with my back against the bathroom wall, and let myself cry.
He crouches down in front of me then, awkwardly going to place his hand on my shoulder to comfort me before thinking better of it and then moving away.
“Don’t cry—you’ll laugh about this tomorrow.”
This just makes me cry harder, full-on sobs, because I definitely will not be laughing about this tomorrow. I must be sobering up just slightly, because it’s starting to dawn on me what a complete fool I’ve just made of myself.
“It’s okay, please don’t cry, Abigail.”
“You don’t get it,” I manage to stammer out, swiping at my eyes and using my hand to wipe at the snot now coming out of my nose.
“Come on, it’s okay. We all do stupid shit when we’re drunk.”
“It’s not okay.”
“What happened?”
“I’m the stupid shit.”
“Huh?”
“I’m the stupid shit. I’m officially, one hundred percent stupid.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not stupid.”
“Then why won’t I graduate?”
That completely stumps him as I watch him through my tears. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m failing. I don’t have the grades to graduate with you guys. I’m not going to pass my classes.”
His eyes widen in shock, and after a couple of seconds of processing this information, he opens his mouth to say something but then snaps it shut again. I guess there’s not really much you can say to that.
There’s more banging on the door, and he looks so incredibly awkward standing there in front of me, so I finally take pity on him. “You should go.”
He hesitates for only a second before likely deciding he’s not the best person to be dealing with me right now, and he goes to the door. To his credit, he doesn’t swing it open and bail, just opening it marginally, saying something quietly that I can’t quite make out to whoever is out there then slipping out himself.
He’s replaced with Sasha, who moves into the room and whose face immediately falls when she sees the state of me, half naked, in my bra, jeans around my knees, slumped against the bathroom wall. She goes to close the door behind me and steps forward to crouch down next to me. She clearly forgot to lock the door, because the next thing I know a wave of noise from the party enters the room as someone swings it open. I turn to see Sarah in the doorway, her jaw falling to the floor at the sight of me.
“Sarah,” Sasha snaps harshly, moving her body to block me from anyone who is looking my way. “Close the damn door.”
Sarah ignores her completely and comes forward to stand over me. “What’s wrong with her?”
I turn my head back to the door and see the tell-tale light of people’s phones. Clearly some people are filming this, and that’s why Sasha wanted the door closed. It’s actually Sophie who steps into the room, sending Sarah a death glare as she grabs the door and pulls it closed behind her, leaving just Sasha, Sarah, and me in the room.
There’s another knock, and Sophie must decide it’s someone who isn’t going to openly mock me because she lets the door open slightly and Jennifer appears.
I start to cry all over again.
I might be hammered and kinda out of it, but even I know this is bad.
I’m humiliated, and if I feel like this now then God knows how I’ll feel tomorrow.
“What is wrong with her?” Sarah asks.
“Shut up,” Sasha snaps right back. “She’s right here. She can hear you.”
“Come on.” Jennifer pulls me forward so I’m not leaning against the wall anymore. “Sit up so I can put this back on you.” Only then do I realize she’s picked up my discarded shirt and is pulling it over my head, trying to regain some of my modesty. I guess I should be grateful. I might look an ounce less pathetic if I’m not sitting here in my bra.
After my top is back in place, she pulls me into a standing position, and Sasha pulls up my jeans and zips and buttons me back into place. “That’s better.”
“I’m sorry,” I wail at them, something I wouldn’t usually bother to say, but that small act of them trying to help me in such a practical way is so kind that it sets me off all over again. Within a few seconds, I’m sobbing so hard I sink back down to the floor, pull my knees up to my chest, and bury my head.
“What the hell is the matter with her?” Sarah asks. Even in my monumental devastation, I can tell she doesn’t feel that sympathetic toward me. “And why is she trying to sleep with anything with a pulse?”
“It wasn’t anything,” Jennifer says loyally.
“She’s just having a shitty couple of days,” Sasha says softly.
“More like months,” Sarah quips, like I can’t even hear her. “First she gets dumped for the final time by Chase, makes a fool out of herself trying to get him back, messes up in cheer practice God knows how many times, and has definitely put on a bit of weight and now she’s trying to sleep with her ex’s friends in some messed-up plan to make him jealous? What the hell is going on?”
“She’s drunk, not deaf,” Sasha snaps, voice harsh.
“Yeah, if you’re not going to help, just go away,” Jennifer agrees.
“I’m just pointing out that she’s obviously screwed up right now.”
“Once again, she can hear you.” Sasha sounds pissed. “You’re supposed to be her friend. Either act like it or get out.”
“I’m just saying—”
“It’s not just that,” I mumble into my knees.
“What?”
“It’s not just me gaining weight and Chase dumping me.”
“Abigail, come on.” Sasha rubs circles on my back. “You don’t have to say anything else. Let’s just get you home.”
It occurs to me then that she doesn’t think that I should tell Sarah about my grades, and that her and Jennifer have clearly not told anyone about it either—they’ve kept my secret. I guess they are real friends after all.
“Well what else is it?” Sarah asks. Her innate need for gossip is stronger than any subtle warning Sasha is trying to give, regardless of me being her supposed best friend. “Abigail?”
I look up at her, and even knowing she’s the queen of gossip, even knowing she’ll tell anyone who will listen within minutes, even knowing she just dissed me in front of my face about the state of me over the last couple of months, I’m still drunk enough to think she might actually care and want to help me with my crap. “I’ve fucked up my grades. I’m not going to graduate with you guys.”
5
I might as well just turn around, go back home, and never come back.
That’s what I want to do as I stare at the school building on Monday morning.
I cannot believe the fool I made of myself on Saturday night.
I was so mortified when I woke up yesterday morning that I ignored my texts and missed calls and just turned my phone off then spent the day in bed.
It didn’t make me feel any better. I kept replaying again and again the conversations I had, and I can’t get the looks of horror on Aaron and Brendon’s faces out of my mind. They were so uncomfortable.
I actually tried to get naked in front of Brendon!
What the hell was I thinking?
My stomach twists with nerves, and I know I’m going to hate every second of today. I have no doubt that the news of Abigail Baker, queen bitch of Grove Valley High School, being drunk out of her mind and rejected by two different people who happen to be the best friends of the guy who dumped her will have spread like wildfire throughout the student body.
I’m sure I won’t get an ounce of sympathy from anyone, and after the way I’ve behaved toward people since I was a freshman, I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve any.
I look down at my phone, which is still turned off, and decide to leave it that way. I’d rather not know what people are saying about me. I check the time on my dashboard, deciding to not leave my car for another two minutes. There’s no way I’m going to hang out in the hallways, giving them all a good punchline before my first class of the day.
I cannot believe I let myself get so horribly drunk and stupid on Saturday night, and it’s not the first time either. For months now, I’ve been pulling stupid crap at parties and making a fool of myself, although this one definitely takes the cake in terms of the most humiliating.
I hit on Brendon and Aaron!
And so publicly too.
Public rejection is not a good look.
I sigh as I watch students stream into school as the late bell rings, and I know I’m going to have to leave the relative safety of my car soon. My eyes stretch across the student parking lot and I spot Sarah making her way up the stairs with Alicia, Melissa, and Kate, other girls on the cheerleading squad.
My stomach turns at the sight of them.
Alicia, Melissa, and Kate are not in our usual circle. They’re always around, usually on the periphery, but they’re not part of our core group, and I can’t help thinking about how I didn’t hear from Sarah at all yesterday. I know my phone was off, but if she were a real friend, she still would have found a way to get in touch with me, to check that I was okay after seeing me so devastated on Saturday night. She has the number for my parents’ house, and she only lives a couple of streets away so could easily have come around to see me, but she chose not to.
And now here she is with girls I know for certain do not have my back and who are definitely not my biggest fans after years of us all griping at each other.
To say the sight of them makes me feel uneasy is an understatement.
I can’t believe I told her I wasn’t going to graduate.
That was the stupidest thing I could have done, and she’s wasted no time at all in seemingly aligning herself with different people—people who don’t like me, people who will laugh at me as I fall. We’ve always had a stupid thing about popularity and rivalry; we both care about it far too much, and I handed her enough ammunition to use on me for the rest of the school year. I have absolutely no doubt she will have used yesterday to plot how she’s going to use my current completely pathetic state to figure out how to destroy me in the social standings at this school.
Today is not going to be a good day.
Not at all.
The bell rings for lunch, and I gather up my belongings and stand slowly, letting everyone else file out of English ahead of me, keeping my head down so I don’t have to face anyone. I haven’t spoken to anyone all day, and if it’s up to me, I plan to keep it that way for the rest of the day.
I haven’t seen Sasha, and while Jennifer tried talking to me in homeroom, I was too mortified to do anything but sit there in silence.
I’m dreading seeing Aaron and Brendon too.
Seriously, what the hell was I thinking?
Jesus Christ. I actually stripped in front of Brendon.
Brendon!
And practically begged him to have sex with me.
Right after Aaron had rejected me.
What the actual hell is wrong with me?
I try to push those thoughts from my head as I step out into the hallway, but I can immediately feel eyes on me and hear a couple of snide snickers behind me. I turn and see a group of junior girls grouped together, looking over at me with smirks on their faces. The prettiest one, the redhead Chase dated when we were on one of our many breaks, is watching me with an a
mused expression. I definitely didn’t make life easy for her back when she was into Chase, made it clear that I took her dating him as a personal insult and relished when she’d slink away from me uncomfortably whenever I was near. The way I used my power in this school, or whatever that means, against her until Chase came back to me…
I deserve the way she’s looking at me.
But it still makes me feel like shit.
I turn away and start walking down the hallway, and that’s when I spot Sarah at the end, surrounded by people as she laughs loudly and flips her hair.
The center of attention.
She looks up and sees me in the distance, locking her eyes with mine, but she makes no move to actually acknowledge me, to act like we’re actually friends.
She just looks at me snidely then says something to the rest of the girls she’s with, people I know, people I cheer with and have hung out with at parties. They turn and look at me, breaking out in laughter at whatever she said. I hear echoes of “desperate” and “pathetic” and “still in love with Chase” bound down the hallway until they hit my ears.
My heart starts beating rapidly as I realize what this is. They’re freezing me out. They’ve seen what I did over the weekend, seen me for the pathetic, desperate, friendless creature that I am, and they’ve chosen Sarah over me.
The worst thing is, I don’t even blame them.
I am pathetic right now. I wouldn’t want to be near me either.
Sarah reaches for her phone, fully aware that I’m watching her, and taps on it a couple of times. Next I hear various beeps from around me as people look at a message then start snickering and looking over at me.
My heart thuds in my chest.
She’s just done something to me, something pre-meditated that she already had planned, something that is going to hurt. I know it with everything inside me.
With shaky hands, I reach for my own phone and pull it out of my bag, quickly turning it on and trying hard to keep it together as I hear the murmurs around me and feel the eyes on me.
Eventually my phone powers on and loads. I ignore the texts and messages I have waiting for me, from Sasha, Jennifer, and even a couple from Chase that I don’t want to think about, and I open the only one that’s there waiting for me from Sarah.
