by Amy Sparling
But that wasn’t the worst part. Just two weeks after the party, I’d come home from school to find my mom hooking up with a guy on the couch.
“Dammit!” she cursed when I walked into the room. “You’re not supposed to be home yet!”
I just ran into my bedroom and closed the door to give her privacy with her guest, and didn’t bother telling her that this was the exact time I got home from school every day. I’d only seen them for a fraction of a second, but it was all I needed.
My mom was hooking up with JJ. And he saw me too.
Shame falls over me as I scroll through these tweets, disregarding Jett’s plea for me to just ignore it.
Some girl is tweeting the whole story, but she’s embellishing it a lot.
Let me tell you something about Jett Adam’s girlfriend, she begins in the first tweet. I happened to meet one of her old boyfriends, and he had something to say about her. Not only is she a big slut, her mother is, too.
It only gets worse from there. The tweets say that I had been sleeping with JJ, and all of his friends, for weeks. And that my mom also slept with them. I’m called every bad name in the book, and then my reputation is dragged as far down as it can go.
She was begging for any guy to sleep with her, the tweets continue. And after I asked around online, I got many people to confirm this.
“This is all a lie,” I tell Jett, tears filling my eyes. “You know this is a lie, right? I never slept with anyone!”
Jett’s lips are pressed into a frown. “I know, baby. No one believes that shit. It’s probably just some fan who is obsessed with me. Please don’t read any more of it.”
Tears pour down my cheeks. I click on the tiny picture of the person who posted all these tweets and look at her profile. Her name is Tawny, and she lives in Dallas. I zoom in on her picture, and realize that this is all my fault. It’s the girl from the steakhouse. The one I called a slut.
Looks like I didn’t have the final word, after all.
Chapter 6
Jett
I am full of rage, and wish I could hit something. But you can’t hit the Internet, which is filled with anonymous assholes. Whoever this bitch is that started a tirade against my girlfriend is going to pay for it. But first, I have to take care of my girl.
“Baby, no one will care about this shit,” I say, wrapping her in my arms and resting my head on top of hers. I can tell she’s trying hard to hold back tears, but it’s not working. “Seriously.”
“It already has a ton of likes,” she says, her voice muffled as I hold her close. “People do care. They’re already saying you deserve better than me.”
I cringe. I was hoping she didn’t see that part on Twitter. Someone announced that I should break up with her, and lots of people retweeted it and agreed. I don’t understand what makes the fans think they can get involved with my personal life. Those aren’t the type of people I want rooting for me on the track. Those people can take their drama elsewhere.
I rub my hand down Keanna’s back. “Let’s do something to take your mind off this,” I say softly.
She pulls away. “I think I’m going to go shower.”
“Want me to come with you?” I ask, giving her a flirty look.
She steps back and shakes her head. “I just want to be alone. Just … please … just leave me alone for a while.”
It kills me to see her like this, but I know that she’s serious when she asks for time by herself.
“Okay,” I say. “Take your time.”
She grabs some clothes from her suitcase and slips into our hotel’s bathroom. I hear the water turn on, and I sit here feeling so damn hopeless.
On my phone, I report the girl who posted all those horrific things about Keanna, and then I block her. I scroll down and find every person who was saying anything remotely rude about my girlfriend and I block them, too.
Then I think carefully about my wording and I post a tweet to my profile.
Anyone who spreads untrue rumors, or says hateful things about me, my girlfriend, or anyone I care about is not a fan of mine. Don’t come to my races. Don’t buy my merch. Kindly fuck off.
I feel a little better after posting the tweet, and the replies and likes start coming in quickly, so I close the app to make sure I don’t get caught up in the stupid online drama. People can be so cruel. I don’t understand what goes through some of these girl’s heads. Do they think that calling my girlfriend a slut will make me dump her and then ask them out? Never happening.
Even if Keanna and I didn’t last forever, I’d never date a rude fan. You can’t trust them because they’re in it for the fame. I grind my teeth and stand up, needing to get all of this anger out of my system. I don’t even like thinking about it. Keanna and I are never splitting up. Not if I have anything to do with it.
I decide to step outside and take a walk down the hotel’s long empty corridor. It doesn’t help clear my mind any, so I call my dad. He always knows what to do.
“Hey, Dad,” I say when he answers.
“What’s wrong? I saw you got first place so you shouldn’t sound so upset, son.”
I take a deep breath. “I already forgot about the race actually,” I say.
“Why’s that?” Dad is always there for me. Because he’s younger than my friend’s dads, maybe he understands better. Or maybe he’s just a better person in general. Whatever it is, I’m never embarrassed to talk to him about what’s going on.
“Have you seen the drama online?”
He snorts. “I rarely ever go online.”
My dad’s not big into social media, so I guess that makes sense. At least this drama hasn’t spread very far yet. Maybe it will just stay on Twitter.
I sigh. “Some bitch got on Twitter and spread a bunch of horrible lies about Keanna. Calling her a slut and stuff. And then other fangirls piled on and they’re all attacking her online.”
“Damn, people are the worst,” Dad says. “How’s Keanna?”
“Not good. She wanted to be left alone, so I’m walking the hallways of the hotel.”
“You should go to her,” Dad says.
I shake my head. “It doesn’t work like that. If she wants to be alone, I have to respect that. I just feel so shitty. She’s not being attacked for who she is, but for who she’s dating. It’s all my fault that these girls are targeting her. I hate it.”
“I know the feeling,” he says after a moment. “You can’t let it get to you. Stick by your girl and ignore everything else.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“That’s what you will do,” he says. “You’ve got this, son. Just be strong for her and she’ll know you’ve got her back. She’s probably not mad about what the people were saying, but about how you’ll react to it.”
“I’m not going to leave her,” I say quickly.
Dad laughs. “I know. But trust me, that’s how girls are. They’ll worry that you will leave. That’s how your mom was. It never hurts to remind them that you’re not going anywhere.”
“Okay,” I say, reaching the end of the hallway. I turn around and walk back toward my hotel room. “I’ll do that.”
“You’re heading to San Antonio tomorrow?” Dad asks.
“Yeah, leaving at six in the morning.”
“Drive safe. Your sister misses you.”
I snort. “That’s because I’m the only one who knows how to play a decent game of peek-a-boo.”
“That might be true,” Dad says with a laugh. “Good luck tomorrow, Jett.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“And don’t worry,” he says. “This will blow over.”
I hope so. I really hope it does. Because I never want to see Keanna looking that upset again.
Chapter 7
Keanna
The drive to San Antonio is silent. Jett plays some music softly on the radio but I know neither one of us listens to it. I don’t want to talk. I don’t know what to say. I thought about trying to fake like every
thing is normal and A-Okay and fine and put on a cheery smile and deal with this, but Jett knows me better than that. He’d see right through the fake happiness, and that would be worse than just being myself. Right now, myself doesn’t want to talk, so I don’t. I sit here and stare out the window for the whole drive.
Once we arrive at our new hotel which is also next to the stadium for the races tomorrow, Jett reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I love you,” he says.
“I love you too,” I say back. It’s not a lie, and he knows it.
We take our stuff into the hotel and check in. Our room is on the first floor, which kind of sucks because I like looking out windows of somewhere high up so I can see the whole town below.
Not two seconds after we make it into our hotel room does someone knock on the door. Loudly. Annoyingly.
“Open up!” Clay yells. “We’ve been here for hours!”
Jett opens the door and the three guys from his team all barrel into our room. “It’s been more like half an hour,” Aiden says. “But we didn’t want to walk the track until you got here.”
“Although I think we should get a sneak peek so we have a chance to beat you,” Zach says to Jett, then he tosses a wink to me. “Not that it would help.”
Jett laughs. “You want to go check out the track now?”
“Yeah, then we need dinner,” Zach says.
Jett walks over to me and takes my hands in his. He lowers his voice so only I can hear. “Do you want me to tell them to go on without us?”
I stare into his eyes, feeling guilty for all the concern in them. He knows I’m hurting and he’ll do whatever it takes to make me feel better. But this is his race, and we’re here for him to advance his career. I can’t just let it all go to hell because I feel like shit. I shake my head. “I think I’ll stay here, but you go ahead.”
He gives me a look like he really doesn’t like that idea.
I put my hand on his chest. “Babe, I’m serious,” I say with a little smile. “Go check out the track. I’m tired, and I just want to watch TV.”
“Okay,” he says, pulling me in to kiss my forehead. “Call me if you need anything.”
I wave to the guys and as soon as they’re gone, the door closed behind them, I rush up and twist the deadbolt into place. And then I rest my head against the cool wooden door and start to cry.
I know I should stay away and take Jett’s advice and just ignore all the drama online, but I can’t. I am weak, and pathetic. I am just as worthless as they say I am.
I sit on the edge of the crisply made hotel bed and open up Twitter on my phone. It’s bad enough that this girl blasted me online with lies and horrible name-calling, but she’s even tagged me in some of them. My tears come harder as I scroll through the vile on Twitter.
There are a few people replying, telling me not to worry about those bitches, but their kind words don’t help at all. The mean words cut into me, lashing my heart wide open. The few nice things here and there are nothing more than tiny bandages that don’t help.
Jett’s last tweet makes me smile a little. He’s being an amazing boyfriend by standing up for me, which is more than I could have asked for. All of the replies to his post are nice, and I’m wondering if that’s because he’s blocked anyone who says anything negative. Probably. For the millionth time, I wish I had just kept my mouth shut at that restaurant. I should have let her talk about me to her friend. I should have walked away. But instead, I thought I was standing up for myself and all I did was make this girl dig up dirt on me and unleash it into the world. I’m used to being called a skank, or unworthy of Jett. That’s been happening since the day we started dating. And it sucks and it hurts, but for the most part, I’m used to it.
This time it hurts worse. She brought up a person from my past. I’ve spent the last two years becoming a new person with a new life. I threw away all of the memories of my past the day my biological mother disowned me, and I’ve looked forward to a new life that’s better.
But this just makes me realize something I hadn’t thought of before. I can get a new last name and new parents and a new house, but I’ll never stop being the girl I used to be. I was born trash and I’ll always be trash. I tried to run away from it, but that didn’t matter.
Jett will see through this one day, I know he will.
I drop my phone and bury my face into the pillow, letting the tears pour out for what feels like a very long time. Every time I close my eyes, I see that last tweet I read before turning off my phone.
That girl’s words are burned into my memory, staring me right in the face.
Jett deserves so much better than some trailer trash whore. We should make it our mission to convince him to leave her.
I can’t say I blame them. Yeah, I never actually slept with JJ, but my mom did. I was trash. I am trash. I still sit at a fancy restaurant with my family and wonder how they do this knife and fork thing with their food when I’ve never been taught how to eat all classy like that. I barely know anything about motocross. Jett deserves someone better. He deserves a girl that grew up in the sport and knows all about it. Maybe even a girl that also rides dirt bikes so they can go riding together.
Guilt weighs me down as I sit up and try to dry my tears. I know what they’re saying on Twitter is true. Jett deserves better. But I still don’t want to give him up. He is the best part of me.
There’s a soft knock on the hotel door, and it makes me jump. “Delivery,” someone calls out. It doesn’t sound like any of the guys’ voices, so I hope they’re not playing a prank on me.
I wipe at my eyes and try to compose myself and then I open the door just a crack. A huge display of flowers fills the air. I open the door all the way and see a man from the hotel holding the huge bouquet.
“I have a delivery for you, ma’am,” he says, handing over the flowers.
“Thank you,” I say.
He grins and then turns away before I start crying again. I close the door and set the heavy vase down on a nearby table. Flowers of all colors burst out of the vase. Pinks and reds and purples and even sunflowers. It’s absolutely beautiful and I can’t believe Jett would do something so sweet. We’ll be driving to Vegas in two days, so what am I supposed to do with these?
I take the little card off the flowers and open it up, surprised when I don’t see Jett’s handwriting on the card. I momentarily panic, thinking these flowers were meant for someone else, but then I read the message.
Cheer up, Sweetheart. The people who matter love you, and the ones who don’t can go to hell.
Love,
Clay, Zach, & Aiden
More tears roll down my cheeks, but they are of the happy variety. I can’t believe I’m smiling after spending the last hour feeling the worst I’ve ever felt. Having the approval of Jett’s teammates makes me feel a whole lot better. Maybe they’ll talk to him and encourage him not to leave me like the people on Twitter are asking him to do.
I lean in and smell the flowers and feel my heart start to repair itself. The world may be cruel, but there are still good people out there. And it sure as hell feels good to have someone on my side.
Chapter 8
Jett
This isn’t the first time I’ve lost a race. It’s just like the unstoppable adrenaline I get before the gate drops—losing makes me feel like shit. I’ll never get over it. I’ll never lose a race and be like, meh, oh well. It always sucks.
This time my shitty third place finish wasn’t due to me competing with faster racers than myself. They didn’t have better agility or speed, or even bikes that were faster. In fact, their bikes are exactly the same because first and second place went to two of my teammates. That’s a good thing—Team Loco on the podium—but it still sucks for me.
The reason I lost is because I can’t stop worrying about Keanna and the stupid drama that comes with being even mildly famous in a professional sport. It’s not like I’m Ryan freaking Reynolds or anything. I’m just a guy who races in a sport
most people don’t even care about. I can’t even imagine the bullshit real celebrities go through. I let the trolls online get in my head. I let it bother me, agitate me, and screw up my racing tonight.
I love Keanna with all my heart, but I tell her a teensy lie when I get back to the hotel after the San Antonio race. I squeeze my wrist and say it’s been hurting. An old injury must be acting up again, and that’s what made me ride so shitty. I think she believes it.
The guys sent her flowers, which I didn’t know about beforehand, and that seems to have cheered her up. I wish I had thought of it, but I’m glad someone did. I know she likes being included in my life, and there’s no better way than for Team Loco to show their support of her. I love those idiots. They’re really good guys.
Keanna barely says a word while we eat dinner with the guys at a local Mexican restaurant. Then when we turn in for the night, she falls asleep quickly and doesn’t wake up. I know, because I can’t seem to stay asleep. I keep waking up and looking over at her, wanting to make sure she’s okay. I wish she’d let me talk about it. But I guess talking won’t help much. The sad fact is that jealous girls online will always be mean to her because they want what they can’t have. It’s not her fault. It’s not even about her. It’s about me. I wish she’d realize that.
I finally fall asleep while watching her angelic face while she sleeps.
In the morning, Keanna insists on bringing her flowers to Vegas so she has something pretty in the hotel room. We put them on the floor in the back seat of my truck, surrounded by our suitcases and bags to hold the vase upright. She doesn’t say much as we get coffee and breakfast at a drive thru fast food place, but she keeps looking back at the flowers and smiling. I’m glad she seems a little better today.
After a couple hours of driving, I look over at her and grin. “Want to get fake IDs and go gambling once we get to Vegas?”
