"What's wrong with my head?" I asked as I felt my scalp to make sure there wasn't a knife sticking out of it.
"You've got a hangover. What were you thinking? You've never had a drink in your life. What made you think you could handle all that alcohol?"
"What are you talking about? I didn't drink anything."
"Then how do you explain this?" Sasha showed me a picture on her camera phone. It was me in my underwear dancing on a table.
Chapter 18:
The Bitch Brigade Strikes
"Where did you get that?" I exclaimed horrified at what I had unwittingly done.
"Around 10:00 last night someone sent this to me. Desi and I immediately went to David's house and got you out of there before you did anything else I knew you'd regret." Sasha slammed her phone shut and yelled, "What were you thinking?"
"I don't know what happened? I don't remember getting drunk. All I had was lemonade."
"That wasn't lemonade!" she yelled, standing. Her voice echoed causing every fiber in my body to twitch. She had no idea how much pain just the sound of her voice caused. If she did, she would surely lower it. I tried to cover my ears and block out some of the sound as she said, "It's called grain alcohol. It's odorless, colorless, and 80 proof." I didn't know what 80 proof meant, but I felt like now wasn't the time to ask. I probably should've learned it in Chemistry class. I immediately recalled Will's advice to never drink anything that wasn't in a factory-sealed container. Why didn't I think of that last night?
Sasha paced the bathroom. When did our bathroom get big enough for pacing? The last time I checked our bathroom was barely big enough to hold me and Sasha at the same time. I looked around. This wasn't our bathroom.
"Where are we?"
"We're at Desi's house. I couldn't have him take us home and you were in no condition to walk. So we spent the night here." She crossed her arms and continued pacing. "How are we going to fix this?" she asked more to herself than to me.
"I'll just explain to everyone that I didn't know I was drinking and that it really wasn't like me and…" Sasha stopped in her tracks, spun around and glared at me causing me to freeze mid-sentence.
"Do you have absolutely no idea how high school works? No one cares you didn't know you were drunk. This is going to haunt you for the rest of your time at Bridgeton. It's going to haunt us! I bet most of the people there thought you were me!" Just then, I heard a knock on the bathroom door.
"What!" Sasha barked at the intruder. I had never seen her so angry before about anything.
An always polite Desmond asked if we were coming down for breakfast. Sasha softened a little. "Maybe later, Babe," she said, trying to sound sweet for Desmond's sake. The thought of food made my stomach turn. I pulled myself up on one arm and leaned over the toilet just as everything I ever ate in my life spewed out of my mouth. Sasha came to my side, held my hair and rubbed my back.
"I'm so sorry, Sweetie. I'm so sorry you had to learn the hard way not to trust the Bitch Brigade," she said as she wiped my mouth with the cloth.
"I'm sorry," I moaned. I closed my eyes and tried to remember when things went wrong. I remembered talking to the bitches. And I did trust them momentarily. I believed their apology and I took the drink from them. And then I was dancing and doing a whole bunch of other stuff with... "Oh God, David," I said in panic.
"Yes David. Why don't we talk about David? Didn't I tell you he was an asshole? Didn't I tell you not to trust him? What were you thinking? I tell you what you should've been thinking."
"Did I...you know…do anything with David?" I said between sobs.
"Nothing too serious. Just a lap dance according to the pictures."
"Just a lap dance? Just a lap dance! Oh God, Will is going to hate me. He's never going to talk to me again. Wait, does he know?"
"Sweetie, everyone with a cell phone, email, or a pulse knows, but..." I started bawling again. "Shhh, I'm not done. He was here at 5:30 this morning looking for you. He's worried about you. I told him to come back later."
"No, I can't face him. I can't." Surely, he wanted to see me in order to break up with me. I wanted more space and I bet now he was willing to give me all the space I wanted, permanently.
Sasha tucked me into bed as I cried myself to sleep. I actually dreamt that last night didn't happen and that Will still loved me, but then I woke up and saw that I was still in Des' house. Reality pounded me in the head. Or that could have been the hangover. I turned and looked at the clock: 1:27 in the afternoon.
"Will is downstairs," Sasha said through the door after a quick knock. "Get yourself together and come talk to him."
"I can't," I whined on the verge of tears again.
"That wasn't a request," she said curtly. Something in her tone made me hop out of bed without another thought of protest.
On my way down the stairs, I heard Sasha and Will in the den.
"She's on her way. You better hope I can fix this or I'm coming after you," she said to him.
"Me? What did I do?"
"Oh, please. You know this is all your fault, right?"
"My fault? What the hell are you talking about?"
"She should've broken up with you when I told her to."
"You told her to break up with me? How could you? I love her."
"Love?” Sasha laughed a little. “Please. You're a psycho. A freaking psycho. First you stalk her for two months while screwing every girl in sight, then now suddenly you're in love. Is this some sort of game to you? I swear to God if you hurt her I will ruin your life."
Will clapped his hands dramatically.
"Stellar performance, Sasha, really. Is there a camera nearby?"
"Shut up!"
"Come off it, Sasha. You may have everyone else fooled but not me. Your friends did this. I bet you're only angry that you didn't think of it first."
Sasha slapped him. "Go to hell!" she yelled before storming off.
Will stood in the den rubbing his still red cheek and staring out of the window. I hesitated a moment at the entrance and just looked at him. He was so handsome. The sun shined on his hair making shades of gold dance on every strand. I hated myself for hurting him so much.
I wanted to ask about the conversation I'd just overheard. It seemed as though Will thought he know something about my sister that I didn't. How could he call those girls friends of Sasha? Didn't he know how afraid of them she was?
Now wasn't the time to talk about Sasha, though. Will and I had a lot of things to work out in our relationship.
"Do you hate me?" I asked.
"I could never hate you," he said still staring out of the window.
"Are you angry with me?"
He shrugged. "I'm not angry. I'm just…I just don't understand. I poured my heart out to you. I asked you to be my wife and then you run right into David's arms."
"But Will, that's part of the problem. You asked me to marry you. I'm sixteen and I've only known you for what? three months tops? How could you possibly expect me to marry you?"
"You want David, don't you? You're never going to feel for me what I feel for you," he said as if he didn't hear me.
"Will, you're not listening. David is not the issue here. That's the one thing I've figured out. You're what I want, but we need to get to know each other better. We need to slow it down a little, okay?"
He didn't answer me. We fell into a tense silence as Will kept staring out the window. I felt like I might have lost him forever.
"Do you want to break up?" I asked finally.
He shook his head and asked, "Do you want to break up with me?"
"No, but I can't marry you, Will. Not now."
He sighed. "I know. It was stupid of me to try to force that on you. It's just that...I lost everyone and everything I ever loved. And then you came along and make me feel..." He leaned his head against the glass and said, "I guess I just tried to hold on to you too tight. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize. We both made mistakes last night."
<
br /> Will crossed the room and embraced me. "Your only mistake was being too trusting. You were tricked."
"What am I gonna do? Sasha says those girls are gonna make my life miserable," I said burying my head into his chest and drinking in his scent. I felt so safe in his arms. Too bad I wasn't safe, not from the Bitch Brigade.
"She would know," he said sitting down on the couch with me still in his arms.
"What does that mean? Why were you two fighting just now?"
He kissed the top of my head. "We both care about you a lot and we're just…upset this happened. There's no telling what they'll do next."
My thoughts went back to the girl in the stairwell. What if they did the same thing to me? "Is there any chance they'll just forget about me and move on?"
"No, there's no chance of that. I already told you," Sasha said, marching into the den with her laptop in tow. "They're going to make your life a living hell. Look at this. They've already made a website and a facebook page with all the pictures from last night." Sasha set the laptop on the coffee table and started scrolling down the pictures. There had to be at least 20 of them each increasingly more vulgar. Apparently, I had been doing some sort of striptease. I couldn't look anymore. I turned away and buried my face in Will's chest again.
"And don’t even get me started on the YouTube video.” Sasha closed her eyes and shook her head for a second. “This is even worse than what they did to Leila Baker last year."
"What'd they do to her?" I asked. Sasha glared at me again.
"They started this ridiculous rumor that she was having an affair with her father," Will volunteered.
"Oh my God, that's awful," I said horrified at the thought.
"It got to the point where she couldn't walk down the halls without people calling her 'Daddy's girl'. She ended up leaving Bridgeton 'cause she couldn't take it anymore," he added.
"But why would anyone even believe that?" I asked.
"Because those bitches are evil geniuses," Sasha said. "They knew Leila came from a close knit family. You know, one of those families who kiss on the lips. They took that and ran with it."
"Why is this worse?"
"Because this time they have pictures and video!" Sasha roared as if I was the biggest idiot in the world for not understanding that. Will squeezed me tighter.
"There's no need to yell at her. She feels bad enough," Will said. Sasha glared at him.
"Why do they have so much power? Why does everyone believe what they say and just do what they want?" I asked.
"Because they're pretty, popular, and rich. They have what everyone wants. And they usually get whatever they want. But you got in their way. You took what they thought was rightfully theirs; the star basketball player." Sasha gestured to Will.
"I can't believe I was ever with Ashley. What was I thinking?"
"You were thinking with the wrong head. Next time why don't you keep it zipped up, huh?"
"You need to get off your God damn high horse, Sasha, before I -"
"Sasha, Will, please stop fighting. You're making me feel even worse. This is my fault for falling for such a childish trap. I should've been more careful."
Sasha and Will glared at each other both seething with anger. Finally, Sasha broke the tension and turned away.
"So, I've been working this out in my head all day," Sasha said after pacing the length of the den several times. She moved away from a sarcastic bitter tone to her all business tone. "I think we have three options in how to deal with this. Option number 1, you switch schools. That's out of the question, because your only choice is to go back to public school. I'm not gonna let that happen. Option number 2, we get Des' father to sue the Bitch Brigade for defamation of character or criminal negligence or something. The problem with this is that it paints you as a victim and doesn't work toward restoration of your damaged character."
"Bitch Brigade?" Will asked when Sasha stopped for a breath. "You mean that's real?"
"That's what I said." Well at least I wasn't the only one who thought the Bitch Brigade was an urban legend.
"So that leads me to option 3," she continued ignoring our interruption. "We face it head-on."
"What do you mean face it head-on?" I asked.
"We embrace this image they're trying to give to you. If we make it seem like you did this on purpose, there is no joy they can extract from taunting you with it. We make it seem like their taunts are part of your plan."
"What plan? My plan to look like a slut? Sasha, I don't see how this is gonna work."
"No, hear me out," she said, getting excited. Her brain worked faster than she could talk. "What they want is to destroy you, to humiliate you. If you turn everything they do around and do it better they'll have nothing to stand on."
"Like what?"
"Like, I bet right now they're at Kinko's printing up flyers with you in your underwear to pass out at school. We could print up flyers too and pass them out. I can go online and start a rumor that you were a lingerie model in Europe and that's why you're so comfortable in your underwear. We can show some of the publicity shots you took in Barcelona. You have one in a pretty skimpy costume right? Do you see where I'm going with this?"
"I think so," I said unable to hide my skepticism. I looked over at Will and he seemed a bit more convinced.
"This could work," he said.
"But why the flyers? Why would I pass out pictures of myself like that?"
"They could be campaign flyers," Will volunteered.
"Good idea. Finally, a worthwhile contribution from you," Sasha said to Will with a sneer.
"Campaign flyers? Campaign flyers for what?" I asked. Sasha and Will were at a loss.
Then out of nowhere Desmond said, "Prom Queen."
"Oh my God, honey, you're brilliant!" Sasha exclaimed as she rewarded him with a kiss. Then she turned to me and said, "You're going to be Bridgeton's next queen if it's the last thing I do."
Chapter 19:
Rumors
"But I don't want to be Prom Queen," I said terrified at the prospect. The Prom queen had to give a speech; in front of people. Because, of course, a speech would have to be in front of people. I didn't do speeches. Now, I could get in front of a group f people and dance. I could even get in front of a group of people and talk about dance. But any other subject and I panicked in front of a crowd. I couldn’t help but think back to the bathroom conversation incident.
"I really don't care what you want to be," Sasha snapped at me again. It shocked me how quickly she went from excited to angry. "This is just to divert people's attention off of the fact that you got plastered at a party and stripped. If you can't get through this you might as well transfer or…kill yourself."
I felt Will tense up. How could she say something like that? She had no idea how she was hurting both of us. Will looked away, not wanting Sasha to even be in his line of sight anymore. "She didn't mean anything by that," I whispered to Will.
Sasha knelt in front of the laptop and started typing furiously for a few minutes. "Now there are a couple of key elements we have to make sure are addressed," she said looking up from the screen. "Number 1: we have to make sure everyone knows we are two different people. So, I will be your campaign manager," Sasha stood and paced the room again. "Number 2: this whole episode occurred because of your relationship with Will, so we have to show everyone that you two are stronger than ever. If they see they've failed to drive you apart, they may give up. So, Will, you have to support her like crazy. I want to see public displays of affection everywhere." Sasha knelt in front of the laptop again and typed. She checked all the social websites that Bridgeton students frequented trying to find the next party and she started sending anonymous emails to the popular kids. Will, Desmond, and I just watched her operate, all afraid to interrupt her thought process. "Okay, the plan starts tonight," she continued. "There's a party at Caitlin Tuten-Rhodes' house and we're all going."
Sasha spent the rest of the day planting rumors about my
non-existent modeling career and convincing me I needed a sexy outfit for the party that night. I was completely mortified. She actually wanted me to do another impromptu striptease. She also coached me on what to say to the Bitch Brigade if they had any comments for me.
"Brittany is the ugly one," Sasha explained while she straightened my hair with a flat iron. "The liposuction, the nose job, and the boob job have helped, but there is just no hope for her smile. The girl looks like Mr. Ed. If she says anything to you just say something like, 'hey, horse mouth, I think your chest is leaking'."
The Queen Bee of Bridgeton Page 11
