The moment I walked into school, everyone was staring at me—and I knew they knew what I’d done.
How could they not? It was all over social media within half an hour. In the time it took me to do the shameful deed and cover my trail, my classmates—whether friend, foe, or indifferent—had shared and re-shared my image over two thousand times. Shaky cell phone videos from at least three different angles had caught me at my absolute worst. Someone with too much extra time on their hands had made screen caps of all the choice frames, churning out a handful of different memes that quickly went viral.
People—who I don’t even know, I might add—snickered, re-posted, and jeered at me in their snarky online comments, this unknown girl, today’s sad sack, enjoying the fact that whoever I was, at least they weren’t me.
The girl in the videos is unmistakably me. Everyone knows that head of unruly brown curls, even when they hide my face. My slouchy sweatshirt with the hole in the kangaroo pocket and my ever-present hot-pink Docs, also featured in the videos, were the double nails in my coffin.
Seeing the crowd that turns my way as I slam through the double glass doors, I nearly lose my nerve and turn back home. The lobby echoes with unnatural silence as conversations stop. Some kids avert their eyes as I stare them back down, defying them to say something, while a few elbow and jostle each other, phones up and recording.
I’m the latest joke. Their new plaything.