Truth Doesn’t Always Equal Fairness
I ate dinner. At the table. With people in my own home. For real. I’m washing dishes with a woman I just met, and Dad and Jackson are eating pie. I just don’t know who I am right now and whose life I fell into. It’s like I’m living a movie.
“I’m so excited to finally meet you and Jackson. We’ve been waiting a long time. Your father didn’t want to introduce us too soon, ya know—he had cold feet and didn’t think we’d last.” She laughs like that is a ridiculous thought.
“How did you meet?”
“Online dating service. They really work, you know. I have three friends who are now married after meeting men online. It’s like a tailored search to who you are, what you want, and where you’ve been. It’s pure genius.”
Hmm. I guess. “Wow,” I say. Seems like a load of crap.
“I have two daughters who are twins. They’re in eighth grade. I can’t wait for you all to meet.”
“Wow, twins. Eighth grade, huh?”
“Yep. Lauren and Karen are their names. You will love them.” She smiles.
I stare at the bubbling suds making chains across my hands, wondering if online dating could really result in marriage.
She dries Mom’s dishes and puts them away in the cupboard. I sort of don’t want her to even touch them. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No,” I say. Don’t even go there, lady.
“Your dad said you had a date while he was out of town. How did it go?”
I shake my head. I don’t like strangers knowing so much personal shit about me. “I’m not seeing him.”
“Oh, so sorry to hear it. There will be others. You’re so young—you have lots of time to find the right boy.” She smiles like she’s a genius with her revelation.
I think back to just the other day, when Hunter was stuffing his giant hand in my back jeans pocket, when only the tips of his fingers fit in the tiny space, and I want to cry because I’ll never feel that ever again. My eyes sting, and tears are imminent, so I excuse myself and run down to my room with the lie that I forgot to do a piece of homework. Yeah, right. I can’t do any effing homework right now. Not a chance.
Mondays suck. Especially when you have to see the boy your brother punched out on your behalf walking through the halls of school with a giant black eye. I try to avoid going to my locker all day so I don’t accidentally see Hunter, but it happens anyway. I wince as he walks into the cafeteria. His eye is swollen shut, blue and purple, and it looks like he has a golf ball to the right of his eye. A scratch makes a red line on his cheek. I can’t believe he came to school like this. He looks like he wants to chase after me as he keeps sneaking tiny glimpses my way. I turn and run away quickly. Literally, I just run to the salad line.
Becca and Ginna are already at the table eating.
I rush to set my salad down on the table. “I’m late because I was dry heaving in the bathroom for like ten minutes. That and hyperventilating from all the rumors that are circulating about Hunter and me and the frickin’ ‘F and F’ saga.” I fling out the words so fast I don’t breathe the whole time I’m talking, so I have a giant gasp at the end.
“Ooh. Are you OK?” Ginna asks, her pretty face wrought with concern. “I’m so sorry to hear all of this. Becca told me everything. I just can’t believe it. You’ve been through hell.” She reaches over to stroke my hand.
“I feel like I’m in hell. With that black eye, everyone thinks Hunter and I did it, and he dumped me, and Jackson pulverized him for it.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard it all. Gossip sucks, and social media is worse,” Ginna says.
“I’m so sorry you have to go through this,” Becca says. She looks so sad—like she might cry for me.
I groan. “Let’s see. Here are the stories I’ve heard. Jackson caught us in the act and beat him up. Hunter romped me hard in the car at Perfectionist Pizza, and I ran away through the parking lot like a scared baby. Partially true, I did run away, but not for that reason. Hunter drugged me and had his way. I’m number ten on Hunter’s list or number twelve, depending on who you ask. Hunter is winning the ‘F and F’ because of me. Damn, people are not kind.” I sigh and stab the dry lettuce with my fork. Not even hungry a tiny bit. “What have you guys heard? Or maybe I don’t want to know.” I can’t raise the fork to my mouth, so I just stare at it in my hand.
“Same,” says Ginna. “Plus, I heard Hunter stalked you to your house, where Jackson demolished him on the front lawn. And he crawled to his car.”
“Well, sadly, that one is partly true,” I say, trying not to let the tears start.
“Ignore them, my babe.” Becca puts her hand on mine. “You know the truth.”
“I know. But the truth sucks too.”
“Hunter seemed like such a lover, not a slimy bastard.” Ginna chews a string cheese as she picks up her phone and starts to text. “This is all so hard to take in.”
“You’ve got the good one, Ginna.” I smile at her.
“Yes, that I do. Logan is perfect, and definitely a lover.” She polishes off her string cheese and smiles as she texts. She looks up. “Don’t worry, you’ll find your love one day. It’ll happen.”
“Can always try chef boy out.” Becca smiles.
“Right.” I flick lettuce to the table. “No one wants a tarnished girl, and this whole thing with Hunter has tarnished my reputation pretty damn good. I think every boy in school will now be terrified to ask me out after what Jackson did. I’ll be lucky to get a date by senior prom, with this all going on.”
“Won’t happen,” Becca says. “You’re too hot and too nice for that to be your future.” She smiles at me, and I know she means it, but I don’t believe it for a second. “Besides, we can go as a group when prom comes around for us, so it won’t matter if you have a date or not.”
I nod. That’s true. But a girl wants a real date to prom.
The rest of the day goes by agonizingly slow. I ride the bus home beside Becca, recalling all the wide eyes and whispers I endured all day long. They continue on the bus. Jackson’s heroic effort has rendered me undateable. And has made me the hottest topic on all the social media channels. Life definitely sucks.
In the morning, I stream off the bus with the rest, hoping I don’t see Hunter, when Brian saunters up beside me. He’s carrying a clear container with lots of colors inside.
“Good morning, my beautiful queen.”
I can only manage a small smile.
“I have deliciousness for you. Mocha-covered fruit for later today. Will you meet me?”
I shrug.
“Yes, she will meet you, Brian, and I will make sure she does,” Becca says with a smile. “If I can have some too, that is.”
“Planned on it.” Brian holds up the container, and it looks sort of interesting with all the colors inside. “See you then.” He walks off in the other direction.
“You’re planning on meeting him, right?”
“I guess,” I say. I didn’t sleep at all last night. My eyes feel like Rice Krispies bars when I blink. Kept my contacts in and didn’t bother to rinse them. Or brush my teeth. Got a shower though, so at least I don’t look like a total zombie.
“You’d better meet us, or I’ll come find you and drag you there.”
“OK,” I say. “If I make it here that long, I’ll go.”
“Good. Stick it out. It’s got to get better.”
But it doesn’t get better. Everyone is looking at me. Talking about me. All. Day. Long. “I might as well have bleached my hair platinum and streaked the halls naked, the way everyone is looking at me,” I say to Brian and Becca as I sit at our table.
“Yum. Like iZombie. Sounds yummy. I’d love to see you like that. Albino ice queen zombie, hot, naked, crime-solver guru.” He nods his head. “I like it. Could work on you. Works for me, especially the no-clothes part.” He’s trying hard to get me to flirt back, to smile. “It’s almost Halloween. That could be your thing,” Brian says with a teasing smirk.
“Yeah.” I just can’t flirt. Not today.
“OK. Let’s get you a delicious berry and see if we can get a smile on that gorgeous face, my queen.” He scoops out the coated strawberries, clusters of what appear to chocolate bathed raspberries, blackberries, and possibly blueberries all with either red, yellow, or pink swirls on top. They look like they are from a gourmet candy shop. Perfect, gorgeous, juicy hand-dipped fruit that I really just want to hurl across the room to smack all those looks off everyone’s faces.
I put my face in my hands. “Everyone is looking at me.”
“That’s because you are so stunning.” Brian smiles, handing me the plate.
“Shut up.”
“I’m sorry, that was insensitive, Landra,” he says, setting down the plate. “I’m sorry all this is happening to you.”
I lay my cheek on the table. The cold metal feels nice on my hot face. I have a perma-blush from hearing some of the things people have whispered about me today. Like I’m easy. A whore. I wanted it. I wanted to be number ten, so I stalked him till he did me. Cruel and unusual punishment when I literally did nothing wrong.
Becca puts her hand on mine. I yank it away. Next everyone will be saying she and I are a couple—or that the three of us are a three-way couple. I stand up. “I gotta pee.” I scurry off to the bathroom and stay there in the stall crying until I think I can walk around again. I look in the mirror, and my eyes are puffy and red. Becca and Brian are still at the table when I come out of the bathroom. There is immediate pity in their eyes when they see me.
“I was just about to come check on you,” Becca says. “You OK?”
“Nooope,” I say, my lower lip out in a pout.
“Try a berry. They are totally amazing. Again, Brian has hit genius culinary status.”
“I’m not hungry,” I say.
“Please, try one little bite,” Brian says. “I know you will love them, and they aren’t too many calories. Plus, ya know, it’s fruit.”
“No. Quit trying so hard to get me to eat, damn it,” I say as I shove the plate back at him. “I gotta go.”
And I leave them. My two good friends. I leave them and walk off. Just like that.
At home, I get a text. It’s from Brian.
Brian: So sorry about today. I know it’s been a hard few days for you.
Allandra: Yeah. It has. Sorry I didn’t try your berries.
I sit down on my bed.
Brian: It’s OK. I can make them for you again on a different day.
Allandra: OK.
Brian: I’d like to cheer you up. Will you let me?
Allandra: How?
Brian: Come outside.
Allandra: U R here? How did you know where I live?
Brian: Yes I’m here outside your house right now. My friend told me which house is yours. He lives on your street. You know Christian Larson?
Oh my gosh. I open my blinds and see him in my driveway with a bouquet of roses. My heart falls to my toes, and my gut instantly aches. I look awful. My eyes are puffy and red. Last time I looked at myself, I had black mascara streaming down my cheeks. By now my whole face is probably coated in mascara tears. I’m bloated and feel fat, and I think my breath stinks—I’m sure it does, because I never did brush my teeth today. I can’t go out like this. I’m a complete mess. Hideous.
Allandra: Go home, Brian. Just go home.
I watch him as he reads the text. Even from inside my room, I can see his face fall as if I slapped off his smile. He lays the bouquet on the dead grass and drives away.
I’m not worth dating. I’m garbage. Fat garbage that smells like unbrushed teeth, and I might as well own it. It’s all mine. I feel like a piece of shit. He drives all the way here with flowers to cheer me up, and I tell him to go away. What is wrong with me?
I call Becca.
“I’m a major bitch.”
“Why?”
“Brian.”
“Oh, he understands. I talked with him after you left the table. Don’t worry about it.”
“No, Becca. There’s more. I’m so awful. I’m a horrible person.” I’m crying now, for Brian. Eck. I’m an effing mess.
“What happened?” she asks.
“He came to my house to cheer me up. Even brought me a bouquet of roses. And I told him to go home,” I say through tears.
“Oi-ya, that’s harsh, Landra.”
“I know, right?” I sob. “What’s wrong with me? Here I have this boy, and I crush him, just like Hunter crushed me.” Who am I even right now?
“Gosh. I didn’t think he’d do this so soon. I told him to wait to approach you again. It’s just way too soon after Hunter.”
“You guys talked about me? Do you think he hates me? I don’t want him to hate me.” I blow my nose. I toss the tissue to the ground to join two empty tissue boxes.
“I’m sure he’ll understand. Maybe you can call him.”
“Right. I could do that. That might work. I don’t want to lose him. He’s such a good friend.” I sniff.
“OK, you do it and call me back.”
I call Brian. No answer. I text him. No answer. Maybe he’s driving. I’ll wait a few minutes. I call again. No answer. I wait ten minutes and call again.
This time, he answers.
“What?” he asks.
“I’m sorry.”
Silence.
He hangs up on me. OMG! He hung up on me! So I cry, of course. Grab my phone and text Becca.
Allandra: I’ve ruined it. He hates me. He actually hung up on me.
Becca: Oh shit. This isn’t good, my love.
Allandra: No. It isn’t good at all.
It’s Friday, and Becca, Ginna, and I are having a sleepover at Becca’s house so she can dye our hair funky colors.
“You text Brian today?” Ginna asks.
“Yep.” Been missing him.
“Anything?”
“Nope.”
“Damn,” Ginna says.
“I know.” I sigh. “I’ve fucked up big time.”
“How many times has Hunter texted you today?” Becca asks.
“Only two. He’s slowing down now.”
“You want to get back with him?” Ginna asks, brushing her gorgeous, shiny, deep-brown hair. I can’t wait to see color on the tips of it.
“I don’t know. I still think he’s hot, but I don’t think I can ever trust him. So, what kind of a relationship would that be?”
“Right,” Becca says.
Ginna hands me the brush next. “Gotta have trust for love.”
“How did I go from two boys crushing on me to zero so fast?” I slump my shoulders.
“Well, Hunter is still crushing on you,” Becca says. “You just aren’t crushing back.”
“True. Good point. I guess it went from glorious with the two of them to utter effed-up crap.”
“Yeah, seems so,” Ginna says. She shrugs, then rubs my shoulder. “So sorry, honey.”
“It’s amazing to me how Jackson is coming off as the hero in this whole fiasco. Everyone loves him even more now for being his little sister’s savior.” I shake my head, wiggle both hands in the air. “Ugh.”
“Yes, I get it,” Ginna says. “He was your superhero in this, defender of his sister and her innocence, hater of ‘F and F.’ I can see why everyone loves him. On top of how much everyone already loved him to begin with.” She inspects her nails. “Not that I like fighting, but gotta love his morals.”
“I know, but somehow in it all, I’ve become a villain.” I scroll through my Instagram feed, and I see it. A very unflattering picture of me trying to get my backpack strap untwisted on my back. I’m sticking out my chest with a disgusting look on my face, with this caption: “#10 or #12 vote below.” My jaw drops. “Holy fuck nuggets … ” I hold up my phone to show my best friends the horrid picture of me. It has hundreds of likes and over fifty comments and votes.
Ginna comes over and grabs my phone, and as she examines it close, her beautiful features mangle into a deep frown. “Oh no,” she says. Her shoulders fall.
“See, I’m a bad guy, and I did nothing wrong,” I say. Tears pop into my eyes. I put my head in my hands. “My reputation is ruined, and I didn’t even do anything.”
“People are cruel.” Ginna sits close to me and gives me a hug. “We know the truth, you know the truth, Hunter knows, and Jackson knows.”
Becca rushes to me, hugs me too. We sit three in a row on the bed.
“Doesn’t seem like that’s enough. I just want it all to go away.” I am sobbing, ugly crying in front of my friends, but I don’t care. At least they didn’t abandon me. “I got the worst of this. Hunter just looks like a player—and guys admire him. They think he got lucky. And everyone hates me for something I didn’t even do.”
Ginna hands me a tissue, then folds her hands in her lap. “You could go to the principal for bullying.”
“I feel like that would make it worse,” I say, wiping my face. I hold up my phone with horrid post again. “Look, it’s from a fake account.” The picture for the account is the face of a brown bear. I don’t remember even following it, but clearly, I did.
Becca puts her hand on mine. “We’ll get through this. It will get better.”
“Maybe Jackson could say something. Or comment on the post to turn people off to it,” Ginna says.
“No, I don’t want to pull him into this.” I shake my head and turn off my phone. “I’m done with social media for a while. I just don’t even want to know.”
“I don’t blame you. I think that’s probably a good idea.” Becca jumps up. “Let’s do something uplifting. Who wants her hair done first?”
“Do Landra,” says Ginna with a smile. “Let’s pamper you up and down. I’ll do your nails.”
I slowly nod. But I can’t smile.