Chapter Seven
Wren
The halls were empty, but that would change as soon as the bell rang. Panicking, I raced to my locker. If I could move quick enough, I’d be able to get all of my books and make it to my car before anyone noticed me.
My fingers trembled as I fumbled with the lock on my locker. Finally, it clicked, allowing me to open the door and grab my books. There was a small mirror stuck to the inside of the locker door, something left by its previous tenant. My tear-soaked face stared back at me. Luckily, my mascara hadn’t run down my cheeks—yet. I grabbed a tissue and dabbed it carefully underneath my eyes before slamming my locker shut.
How could I let myself be so stupid? Baring my soul to him? Telling him about Gramps? Fuller had always been a jerk, and this only made that point crystal clear. This would be the last time I let him hurt me.
Brinnnggggggg. The sound of the final bell of the day echoed throughout the empty hallway. Crap. I’d taken too long. With my arms full of books, I put my head down and continued toward the doors leading to the parking lot.
“Wren! Wren, wait up!”
I didn’t turn around. I never wanted to speak to Fuller James again. He might not have taken the picture or even been the one to post it, but I knew he had something to do with it. It explained why he kept glancing over his shoulder. He had clearly been looking for whoever took the picture.
Worst of all, he hadn’t even tried to deny it, he’d only told TyShaun to shut up.
A hand touched my shoulder. “Wren, please. Talk to me.”
I stopped, juggling the textbooks in my arms. “I’m sure this is all some kind of joke to you, but I will not be made the laughingstock of our school again.” My voice cracked. “Unlike some other girls, I don’t get off on the fact that people think we hooked up!”
“I swear, I didn’t—”
I didn’t let him finish his sentence. Instead, I pushed past him, bumping against his arm in the process. That’s all it took to send my pile of books flying. They scattered on the linoleum floor with audible thumps.
Fuller scrambled to help me pick them up as classmates walked by, whispering and laughing.
“Get away from me! I don’t need your help.” The anger in my voice was palpable.
“Trouble in paradise?”
Could this moment get any worse?
I spun around to find Marissa staring me down. She tapped her stiletto-clad foot. Courtney stood behind her with a wicked grin on her face.
“Get away from me, Marissa.” Fuller’s voice was low and came out like a growl. “I don’t want anything to do with you right now.”
Her perfectly shaped eyebrows went up, but only for a second before her face twisted into a sneer. “That wasn’t what you were saying two weeks ago.”
Instead of responding, I grabbed my books from Fuller’s arms and raced down the hallway. Marissa’s cackles chased after me.
As I made my way outside, I sucked in the fresh air. You’re almost to your car. You only need to hang on for a few more seconds.
Brandon waved at me from the first row of the parking lot.
I loved my friends, but right now, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I needed to go home, get into bed, and pull the comforter over my head.
As soon as I got closer, Brandon frowned. His blue eyes instantly filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”
Unable to hold it in any longer, my chest heaved, and a fresh round of tears ran down my cheeks.
“Oh my gosh! What happened?” Brandon grabbed my books and opened up his car door. “Here, come sit down.”
“Y-Y-You’re going to be late for practice.” I choked on the words as they left my lips.
“I don’t care. Get in and tell me what happened.”
Once I sat down in the passenger’s seat, I completely lost it. I worked hard for my perfect GPA, had two awesome best friends, I took care of my grandpa as best as I could—I was a good person, damn it. But somehow Fuller, TyShaun, Marissa, and an anonymous Instagram account managed to make me feel like I was completely worthless. I’d never even had sex with anyone, but now, half the school thought I was sleeping with Fuller James. Yeah right, like I’d ever stoop to that level of sleaze!
Several minutes passed before I was able to pull back and show Brandon the post.
As soon as his blue eyes landed on the picture, his face turned as red as his hair.
“H-H-He came over to get some notes. You know, for tutoring. He came in, talked to my grandpa about basketball, but when he left, he…he was acting weird. He kept looking over his shoulder. I asked him about it today during study hall. He said it wasn’t what it looked like. Then, boom. This picture is posted.”
I tapped on the comment bubble. “There’s already fifty-one comments. Everyone is making fun of him for being at my house. I think he set the whole thing up. I don’t know what his endgame is, though—people are making fun of him as much as they’re making fun of me. It wouldn’t be so bad, but right before the post went up, we’d had this long talk about Gramps and his little brother. For just a minute, I thought there was more to him than just his jerkwad cocky attitude, and I let my guard down.” I shook my head. “Talk about being gullible.”
“You are not gullible, Wren.” Brandon’s eyes narrowed in on my phone. “That stupid account is always messing with people,” he grumbled.
I wiped my cheeks with the backs of my hands.
“You know what? Screw Fuller. He’s an ass. You know it, I know it. The whole world knows it.” Brandon’s cheeks were red again. “He thinks he’s untouchable.”
I nodded. I’d never met someone so cocky in my entire life.
“I’m going to confront him. He obviously didn’t take the picture, but I bet he knows who posted it. He needs to get that crap taken down and tell TyShaun, his friends, and especially that witch Marissa to leave you alone. You don’t deserve this, Wren.”
Sniffling, I reached out and placed my hand on Brandon’s forearm. “Thanks, Brand, but please don’t.”
A small spark lit in my core. I needed to fight this battle head on. I never stood up for myself, and it was time that changed.
Brandon placed his other hand on top of mine. “Are you sure? I don’t want to fight your battles, but I want to be there for you. Plus, I’m about to go see that asshole, and it’s going to be really hard holding my tongue.”
“I’m sure. Thank you, though.” I squeezed his hand.
“If you change your mind…”
Wrapping my arms around Brandon, I hugged him again. “You and Dae will be the first to know, I promise.” Looking down at my phone, I sighed. “You better get to practice. I don’t want you to have to run extra laps because of me.”
“Can I drop you off at your car first?”
I let out a small sigh, thankful for my friends. “That would be really nice. Thanks, Brand.”
My phone buzzed as Brandon slid his car into drive.
I really do have the best friends.
…
By the time I got home, my phone had blown up. More than twenty people had tagged me in the post’s comments, and Fuller had sent me five text messages. Five!
Sighing, I opened the app and looked at the picture one last time. While some of the comments were hurtful and rude, a lot pointed out how creepy it was that someone was taking secret photos of Fuller and me. Others pointed out that the picture didn’t mean anything.
Someone even said, “He could have been out for a run and ran into her. Why would you assume anything else? Desperate much?” That one made me smile.
Deciding I didn’t need to see anything else, I blocked the anonymous gossip account and switched to my text messages.
Even though I hated thinking about middle school, my mind floated back to the night after our seventh-grade dance. Marissa had come over to my house, but instead of comforting me after I humiliated myself by spitting out my retainer, she flat out told me we couldn’t be friends anymore. “Listen, Fuller and I are a thing now, and he doesn’t think you and I should be friends anymore.” I remember the air whooshing out of my lungs.
She didn’t say anything else to me that night. She called her mom, asked to get picked up, and then she turned around and walked out of my front door and, more importantly, my life.
I’d tried calling and texting her, but she refused to talk to me. At school, she straight-up pretended like I didn’t exist, minus when she was calling me Wrentainer. Thank goodness Dae moved to town that same year. He was new, and I was in desperate need of a friend who didn’t think Marissa and Fuller were the world’s cutest couple. Plus, like me, he loved basketball. We immediately became friends. After he and Brandon were paired up for a social studies project, Brandon quickly became part of our crew. Turns out, Brandon and Dae both had little sisters in the same fifth-grade class and they became friends, too.
It was almost like it was meant to be.
Dae was the one who got me into running cross-country. He used to be on the boys’ team, but a knee injury left him on the sidelines this past season. He was looking forward to dominating in javelin for the upcoming track season in the spring, and I’d be right there cheering him on.
Back in the day, the three of us would shoot hoops after school for hours, hang out at Floats, the local ice cream parlor, eat the most delicious Korean food you’d ever imagine at Dae’s house, and spend our weekends watching basketball games on Brandon’s massive flat-screen.
That’s when it hit me. I’d made a vow in Brandon’s car to start standing up for myself, but did I really mean it? I was sick and tired of walking on eggshells around Marissa, Fuller, or anyone at school. I’d been a victim for five years. That was five too many.
Brandon was right, screw them and whoever ran that gossip account. I was done being pushed around, breaking down in tears. From this point forward, I was going to tell them all how I really felt.
I sniffed and blinked away the tears. I’d stand up for myself and live my life. I wasn’t going to start initiating fistfights in the parking lot, but if Marissa dared to laugh at me again, I’d tell her to shove it. As for Fuller, even though I wanted to quit working with him, I’d finish tutoring him and then never speak to him again. We’d be done in two weeks, max. After that, there’d be only eight months left of high school. Eight months, then a summer with my friends, STEM camp, and finally college.
I’d escape Marissa, Fuller, TyShaun, and all their immature stunts once and for all.
I turned off my phone and grabbed my backpack, my body buzzing with confidence. I felt like I’d chugged a Red Bull or something, like I could break my personal best running a mile. Gathering my books in my arms, I glanced at myself in the rearview mirror. “You can do this, Wren.”
Juggling my books, I managed to slide my key into the front door and push it open.
“Wrenny.” My grandpa met me at the front door with a massive smile. “How was school today?” He was wearing the sweater I’d gotten him for his birthday. It was navy with maroon stripes.
“Hey, Gramps. You look really nice today.” I set everything down on the long, skinny wooden table inside the door and gave him a hug. He smelled like Old Spice. He’d used the same cologne as long as I could remember. “School was okay. How was your day?”
“Oh, you know. I helped your dad make lunch. We had tomato soup and grilled cheese.” He rubbed his stomach. “It was deeeelicious.”
“Mmm, my favorite.” During his lucid moments, it felt like the good old days again—back when he and Grandma used to live down the block and I’d go to their house every day after school. I loved it. There was always fresh fruit or carrot sticks with a side of ranch waiting for me when I got there. I’d sit at the kitchen table and race through my homework, even though Grandma always made me go back and double-check it. Sunny days meant long walks and games outside together. Rainy days were for blanket forts and watching movies. Most nights, my parents would pick me up after they got home from work, but Fridays were my favorite because I always got to sleep over.
The memories tugged at my heartstrings.
Gramps nodded. “I know. That’s why I saved you half a sandwich and some soup. Want to warm it up and watch some basketball?”
“Sure, do you know if Mom’s running late?” I asked, recalling that I hadn’t seen her car in the driveway.
“She’s staying late at work and your dad said he’s still full from lunch. So, what do you say to dinner and a game with your ole Gramps?”
Even though I had at least three hours of homework, I didn’t care. I could do it after dinner. Spending time with my grandpa was more important. “Let’s do it. Want to watch the 1998 championship game between the Bulls and the Jazz?”
Gramps’s eyes lit up. “Do I ever!”
“Awesome. Let me go drop off this stuff in my room. I’ll be right out.”
“Oh, Wren, how’s your new friend? That good ball player who came over the other night.”
I froze. Grandpa usually struggled to remember meeting new people, but here he was asking about Fuller like it was no big deal.
“Oh, um. He’s fine. He’s at practice right now with Uncle Chuck.”
“He’s a nice boy. I really liked talking to him. He knows a lot about basketball. You should have him over again.”
“Sounds like a plan, Gramps.” My heart sank. I hated lying, but there was no way I’d ever let Fuller James back into my house.