Infamous

Monday, February 18

I rip a poster off the wall without looking at what’s on it and throw it into the pile on the floor. I continue down the science hall past the next bank of lockers and reach for another. This time, however, I accidentally catch a glimpse of my own face printed on the sheet and it stops me dead. There’s something so shocking about the photo I simply cannot force myself to look away.

There was a time I might have been embarrassed by the line of sweat I see beading at my brow or how disheveled I look with my bra strap slipping off my shoulder from beneath my shirt, but that’s not what draws my attention now. What surprises me instead is the look of sheer joy on my face. The girl in the photo is happy. Enjoying life. Living in the moment. The girl in the picture has momentarily forgotten all the worry and heartache associated with moving to this new place. She’s plain old Tess from Iowa having a good time.

Knowing what’s written beneath the photo, I don’t want to let my eyes drop, but I can’t help it. I can’t ignore the bold script scrawled across the bottom of the page declaring TESS GOODWIN IS A SLUT. My heart races and bile rises in my throat, but I swallow it down because I can not—I will not—risk showing how this stupid prank has upset me.

After several deep breaths, the anger and sadness wane, and I’m able to toss the sheet onto the floor with the others. Before moving on, however, I notice a piece of tape still clinging to the wall where the poster hung. I need to peel it off because I can’t leave any trace of viciousness behind. I pick at the adhesive, slipping my fingernail under the sticky edge, but instead of pulling off cleanly, it only rips in half. Frustrated by everything that’s come to pass, I squeeze my eyelids closed to prevent the tears from spilling over, but the persistent voice in the back of my head won’t shut up.

You don’t belong here, Tess, it says. And you were stupid to think you would ever fit in.