The Way to Game the Walk of Shame

by Jenn P. Nguyen

  Evan narrowed his eyes, but I could tell that he was hurt by my rant. A pang of guilt hit me. “That’s not—”

  “I know I’m being a jerk.” My hands dropped to my sides. Who was I to judge them when I was in the same position? Although technically, he was the one sleeping around, not them. So if there was finger-pointing, it should be at him. “They’re not bimbos. I’m sure they’re all very nice. And pretty, from the … little that I can actually see. Maybe their cameras slipped and they accidentally took a picture of their boobs. How do I know? Water can be pretty slippery.”

  “No, I mean, this is a picture of her in her bra.” He leaned toward me and tapped the picture still in my hand.

  I dropped the picture like it burned and watched it flutter to the carpet—thankfully, face down. “So, like I said, we should just forget about last night. Not that I actually remember—I mean, it was nothing.”

  Evan clenched his fist to his bare chest and doubled over. “Ouch. And here I was pulling out all my best moves for you.”

  My cheeks burned. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “I was joking.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’re right, though. We should just forget this,” he continued, gesturing toward the bed and then at me. “Whatever this was never happened. We don’t even know each other. Hey, do you need a ride home?”

  I shoved him back when he took a few steps toward the door. “No, I don’t need a ride! What part of this didn’t happen don’t you understand? There will be no rides, no talking, not even a glance between us in the future. Got that?”

  “But what if I need to return your underwear or something?”

  “You don’t have my—” My hands lowered to my hips, and I almost checked in front of him. “Ha-ha, very funny.”

  The corners of his mouth jerked up into a smile again. “I try.”

  “Well, from now on, there will be no more mention of my underwear or any other undergarments to anyone.” I held out a hand to him. “Deal?”

  Was it my imagination, or did his eyes drop to check me out? His gaze was back on mine in an instant, so I couldn’t be sure. Still, I tugged at the thin straps of my tank top and wrapped my arm across my small chest. I nodded toward my outstretched hand. “Deal?” I repeated, louder this time.

  His hand grasped mine, practically dwarfing it. His thumb grazed my knuckles and sent shivers up and down my spine. I forced myself to stand still and stare up at his face, hurting my neck in the process.

  “Deal.”

  2

  {Taylor}

  The two-mile walk home took forever. Within minutes, I regretted not accepting Evan’s offer to drive me home. I knew why it would have been a bad idea, but with each painful step, the reasons disappeared.

  One thing’s for sure, these sandals were definitely not made for walking.

  Finally home, I barely had time to sneak into the bathroom to throw up before my parents caught me. Kimmy, my nine-year-old baby sister, was sitting at the top of the stairway when I rushed past. She started to call out my name, but I motioned for her to shush. The sweetheart nodded solemnly and mimicked zipping her lips shut.

  There was a knock on the bathroom door a few minutes later. “Taylor? I didn’t think you’d be home so soon. I called your phone earlier, but you didn’t pick up, so I called Carly and she told me you were still asleep.”

  My hands automatically flew to my pockets, even though I knew my phone wasn’t there. I must have left it at the party or something. “Yeah, sorry, Mom. I think the ringer is off or something,” I called out, trying to sound as normal as I could.

  “It’s okay. So did you have fun at the party? Did it help take your mind off things?”

  That was an understatement. “Yeah, I can honestly say it really did.”

  “I knew it would!” I could hear the glee in her voice. “Do you want some breakfast? I made your favorite. French toast with a side of mushroom hash browns. Heavy on the mushrooms.”

  Urgh, more food talk. I plopped down next to the toilet again, feeling crappy both inside and out. “Maybe a little later? Let me shower first, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Yeah, there was no way I could hide this hangover from Mom and Dad. Especially Dad. That man could detect any hint of weakness and lies. Which is why he’s a great lawyer. Although right now, I wasn’t so proud of those skills.

  Once the coast was clear, I poked my head out of the bathroom to check. The hall was empty. Only Kimmy still sat by the top of the stairs, like a guard dog with braids.

  I cleared my throat and motioned her forward. “Can you let me know when Mom and Dad are gone? I don’t want to see them right now.”

  “But—”

  “If you help me and keep this a secret between us, then you can have my French toast with extra syrup. Deal?”

  I don’t know if it was the thought of keeping a secret from our parents or the French-toast bribe, but her smile widened until all you could see were her shiny teeth. “Deal!”

  After she left, I hopped into the tub. Well, not so much hopped as stumbled around with my head held between my hands in an attempt to make the throbbing stop. Thankfully, the steaming-hot water eased my headache, making everything feel better. Not perfect, but better.

  I stayed in the shower for ages, until the hot water turned warm and finally piercing cold. Not wanting to turn into an icicle, I finally got out. My fingertips were already wrinkled prunes.

  Wrapping a thick cream towel around myself, I wiped at the condensation on the mirror and stared myself down. “So you had a minor setback with Columbia yesterday and Evan this morning. Big whoop.” I narrowed my eyes at my own reflection. “It doesn’t mean anything. You’re still Taylor Simmons. You’re still you. You’re still awesome. And this time next year, you’ll be sitting on the Columbia campus thinking, Evan who?”

  “Tay, Mom and Dad left. Can I eat the French toast in your room?”

  A horrified denial automatically sprang to my lips at the image of crumbs and syrup all over my sheets, but I pushed it down at Kimmy’s earnest tone. I owed her one for helping me out anyway. “Sure, but uh, make sure you get extra napkins.”

  “Okay!”

  I let out a slow, deep breath and pointed a wrinkled finger at the mirror to continue my pep talk. “So pull yourself together. Tomorrow you’re going to go to school and pretend nothing happened. Actually, not even pretend. Because. Nothing. Happened.”

  Evan’s grinning face popped into my head. His dark-gray eyes twinkled with amusement like he was listening to my speech. I shivered and swiped at the mirror again, hoping it would help clear my mind. “Nothing.”

  * * *

  Thank god I had Sunday to lie around and sleep, or I doubt I would have ever made it to school. Kimmy and I hung out in my room and watched movies all day long. After she finished the French toast, I brought the dirty plate out myself and pretended I’d eaten it. Luckily, Mom had errands to run that day, so she couldn’t ask me too much about the party.

  I wished avoiding people at school on Monday were as easy as avoiding my parents. Everyone’s eyes were on me as I walked to class. Seriously. Heads turned, and people whispered behind their hands with every step I took. And the worst part was they weren’t even trying to be subtle about it.

  There had to be another reason—any reason—that they would be looking at me. Maybe I had won some sort of an award. Or Brian failed a test or something, and I was the valedictorian now. (One can dream.) At this point, I wouldn’t even mind being the one who failed the hypothetical test. Anything would be better than the truth.

  I fumbled with the combination on my locker. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw a brunette girl in a black sophomore sweatshirt turn to some guy beside her and point at me. At first I couldn’t hear what they said, but my ears perked up at Evan’s name. Straining to hear, I leaned in closer.

  “I think she’s the one who went home with Evan McKinley after the party,” she said in a hush
ed tone.

  “No, way. Isn’t she like a nerd or something? Like a teacher’s pet?”

  “Everyone calls her the Ice Queen. Now she’s just another one of his flings.”

  He snickered. “Guess even queens can’t resist Evan McKinley.”

  Party. Evan. Fling.

  No, no, no. This had to be a dream. A really sucky, horrible nightmare.

  Even though my hangover was gone, I suddenly felt like throwing up again. Forgetting why I was even at my locker, I stumbled away without opening it. Everything in front of me spun. The lockers. The other students. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be some type of Twilight Zone or something. Or a bad romance novel where I was the gentle, well-bred, titled daughter who had her reputation ruined because of a scandalous, notorious rake.

  Reading about it was way better than experiencing it.

  But damn it, how could everyone know already? And what exactly did they know?

  It was the longest walk of my life. Like someone had decided to build an extra mile into the hallway over the weekend just to torture me.

  Even Faith Watkins, whom everyone at school nicknamed the Reincarnated Mother Mary, gave me a sympathetic look when I passed her. The little Catholic girl with the white sweaters and JESUS LOVES ME stickers on her backpack knew. And if she knew, that meant everyone knew.

  Once I was finally able to reach the safety of first period, I plopped onto my usual seat without looking at anyone around me. They were still whispering and pointing, but at least now there were only twenty-five of them instead of the entire school.

  My forehead dropped into my hands, gripping it tightly as though that would help shrink my headache. God, could this day get any worse?

  Mr. Peters strolled into class and closed the door behind him with a loud bang. “All right, did everyone finish the report on a significant event of the 1900s?”

  There were moans and groans, and a couple of students immediately started rambling off excuses why they didn’t do their homework.

  Glad for the distraction and to finally have things back to normal, I let out a sigh of relief and opened my bag to get the red folder I stuck the report in to keep the pages fresh. It took me less than a minute to realize it wasn’t there. Where was it? When I had finished, I had immediately put it in my folder … and left it on my desk at home.

  Crap.

  I shuffled through the loose papers in my bag again, even though I knew that the report was at home, neatly stapled and ready to go. I had finished it days ago but forgot to put it in my bag yesterday because I was so sick.

  After making a couple of notes in his binder, Mr. Peters moved around the classroom to collect the papers. As he got closer and closer to my seat, the panic in my stomach grew. I prayed for a miracle, an earthquake or tsunami to suddenly hit, even though something like that had never hit Wilmington before. Or anywhere in North Carolina. But that’s what miracles were, right? I mean, if Evan McKinley and I could hook up—or whatever we did Saturday night—then that was proof enough that the impossible could happen!

  Heck, I wouldn’t even have minded a meteor right now.

  “Ms. Simmons?”

  “Uh, yes?”

  With a frown, he waved the papers in the air. “I need your report.”

  My eyes lowered, and I traced the old P Q carving on the corner of my desk. “Well, you see, it’s funny. Kind of. The thing is…” My voice lowered into a half whisper. “I think I left my report at home.”

  “You think?”

  “I mean, I know I did.” My attempt at an apologetic smile felt forced and weird. But it wasn’t my fault. I’d never been in this position before. I didn’t know what to do.

  He blinked at me like he still didn’t understand. “You don’t have your report?”

  “No.” Why did he keep making me repeat myself?

  “You can’t blame her, Mr. Peters,” a loud voice suddenly called out from the back of the room. With a smirk, Lauren Tillman leaned back in her chair and swept her fiery-red hair over one slender shoulder. “Taylor had a really busy weekend.”

  My weak smile melted like an icicle on the sidewalk in the middle of summer.

  Even though we’d gone to school together forever, I could barely count the number of times Lauren had talked to me. Or even about me. I didn’t even know she knew my name.

  Mr. Peters shook his head. “Still, this isn’t like you, Taylor. Your record is usually so impeccable.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. Little Miss Perfect blemished a lot more than just her record at the party. And after,” Lauren loudly continued.

  At that, the whole class snorted with laughter. A couple of guys in the back row winked and made kissy-faces at me.

  “All right, that’s enough.” Mr. Peters had to smack his binder against the side of my desk to get everyone to shut up. “Let’s just start class.”

  He leaned down and lowered his voice a bit. “You can bring it to me tomorrow, but I’m disappointed in you, Taylor. Really. I expected more from you. If I can’t trust you to hand in a simple paper on time, how am I supposed to let you plan Career Day? Or give the alumni presentation?”

  It was as though all the blood had drained from my face. I could feel myself getting light-headed. “No, I swear I did the report. I did it on the first test-tube baby in the U.S. It was Elizabeth Carr in Virginia. If you want, I could run home and get it! Or my mom can bring it to school for me, or—”

  He waved his hand to stop my defense. “Look, we’ll talk about this later. Just see me after class.”

  “Yes, sir.” I made the mistake of looking behind me and locking eyes with Lauren again.

  She pursed her lips in mock sympathy and wiggled her fingers at me in a half wave.

  Cheeks flaming, I whipped my head back around. My fingers dug into the sides of my chair. Gah. I wanted to crawl beneath my desk and die. The mockery and gossiping were one thing, but I had never had a teacher be disappointed in me. Much less a teacher who had connections to the alumni and faculty at Columbia. This was the worst time to get on Mr. Peters’s bad side. A good word from him to the guest speaker could make all the difference in the world. Could turn my being wait-listed into an acceptance.

  And now it was all slipping down the drain.

  Double crap.

  * * *

  “You!”

  I didn’t look up. Not even when Carly tapped the top of my head with a binder. Twice. Though it throbbed, I buried my head even deeper in my arms, trying to disappear. I didn’t want to see all the eyes around the cafeteria staring at me, like they’d been doing all morning. I thought it might die down a bit by lunch, but I couldn’t even eat my barbecued meatloaf and steamed vegetables in peace.

  “First you don’t pick up my call, and now you won’t even look at me?” Carly’s voice got more high-pitched with each word. From previous experience, I knew this wasn’t a good sign. She was like a ticking time bomb, and if I didn’t respond, the lunch ladies would be scraping pieces of me out of the gravy bin. She was my best friend and I loved her, but her nosiness and booming voice were probably going to kill me. “How could you ditch me at the party?”

  I turned my head and wiggled my nose when my hair flopped over my face. The strands parted with my loud sigh. Her face hovered over me with a scowl.

  “Oh, hi. How was civics?”

  “As exciting as a class taught by my mother could be. She called me sweetie pie and fixed my hair in front of everyone.” Carly slumped into the seat across from me and rolled her dark eyes so far back, I worried they’d get stuck. “I was tempted to stab myself with a pen just to have an excuse to leave.”

  I usually didn’t bring up her mom, but I needed something to distract Carly, at least for a bit, and her mom was her kryptonite. She could complain about her all afternoon if she wanted to.

  Carly’s mom was a substitute teacher, and although she promised her kids she’d never work at their schools, the economy was so bad that sometimes she couldn�
��t help it. It was still money, after all. This was the first time she’d taught one of Carly’s classes, though—something Carly had been dreading all week.

  I liked Mrs. Winters, but that was because she spoiled me. Carly swore her mom would still love me even if I egged their house weekly, because she approved of “my career choice.” In Mrs. Winters’s mind, doctors, lawyers, and dentists were the way to go. Either to become one or to meet one—like Carly’s older sister, Nancy, did. She married an optometrist. The crème de la crème.

  So her younger daughter’s love for drama and music was a touchy subject between them. Although with Carly’s over-the-top theatrics, theater was the obvious choice.

  Carly opened a bag of veggies, once again on her never-ending quest to lose weight. “I’m asking again. Why did you ditch me at the party? And why did you lie to me?”

  “I don’t remember leaving the party.” I squinted up at her in confusion. “And when did I lie?”

  “Uh, after you disappeared, I texted you a gazillion times, and finally you texted back that you were already home, remember?” She waved a carrot stick in the air like a sword. “Imagine my surprise when your mom called me the next day asking about you. You’re lucky that I’m brilliant at improv and was able to cover for you.”

  Chewing on my lower lip, I tugged on my ear and tried to remember texting her, but I couldn’t. I still didn’t know what happened that night. “Sorry.”

  She let out a heavy sigh and poked me with her carrot stick. “Seriously, though, do you know how worried I was? Don’t disappear on me like that again! And could you please sit up? I feel like I’m talking to a corpse.”

  “Sorry,” I said again, pulling myself upright and propping my chin on my palm. “But you know, none of this would have happened if you hadn’t dragged me to that party. And gotten me drunk.”

  Carly scoffed and rolled her eyes. “What else was I supposed to do, let you keep moping at home and camping out by your mailbox for news from Columbia like you’ve been doing all month? You’ll get accepted. One little party isn’t going to change that. This is our senior year! We have to experience it! And it was your own fault for not eating all day. That’s why it hit you so bad. You barely drank.”