Chapter 8 Message Received
In the morning, I considered begging my parents to let me stay home. Lots of kids (and some teachers, tbh) would be out today; it was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and most schools weren’t even in session! It was so unfair.
But asking to stay home would mean telling Mom and Dad about “Deer Hill Dirt.” And I needed more time to figure out how to explain it.
It had to.
So, ten minutes earlier than I used to leave, back when I had a ride with a best friend, I bundled up in my coat, hat, scarf, and gloves, then stepped out the door. The icy wind shocked me fully awake.
Awful.
On the walk, I looked for something to photograph. Maybe the mountains? I took a few shots, but they didn’t capture the real view. Then I tried a school bus rumbling down the road, belching steam and exhaust. That one wasn’t bad, but I couldn’t send it to Knight; the bus had my town’s name.
A few minutes later, I found a huge maple tree. It still had red leaves on it. I walked around the trunk, looking for a good spot.
There! Blue mountains, crimson leaves, and a gray, moody sky. I snapped a few photos, peered down at my phone, and snapped a few more. Then the clock said I needed to hurry, so I turned and walked fast. That was when I noticed someone ahead of me—a figure I’d recognize anywhere.
Grayson.
He didn’t seem to be in a hurry, conspicuously so, and I caught up with him before I could decide whether or not to acknowledge his presence as I zoomed past.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
He was talking to me. Again. “Hey.” The word came out pathetically small, so I tried to hurry by and escape the utter mortification that was interacting with Grayson Jennings.
But he matched my pace. Had he been waiting for me to catch up? The idea made my heart flip.
Only now … neither of us spoke. We walked together, but we walked in awkward silence. Crossed a street in awkward silence. Followed along the retaining wall in awkward silence. I considered jogging ahead, but it seemed pointless now that we were so close to school. Anyway, I hated jogging.
He glanced at me a few times but wouldn’t meet my eyes. Which, fair. I couldn’t meet his eyes, either.
“You were nice to me the other day,” he said as we approached the double doors. Students were streaming in around us. “If you need someone …”
That tightness in my chest intensified. But before I could find a response, he disappeared around a corner.
Suddenly, a girl I didn’t know bumped into me. “Watch out,” another girl snickered. “She might say something vile about you to her friends.”
The first girl laughed. “What friends?”
The pain from yesterday returned, sharp and bitter. The fight. The scroll. My own words out there for all the world to see.
My face must have blanched, because the girls cackled and hurried away, leaving me with a bunch of people giving me the stink eye. Someone even raised their phone and—I cringed—took a picture of me.
“Long live ‘Deer Hill Dirt,’” a boy shouted. “The truth tellers!”
A few cheers went up. So much for the faint hope that “Deer Hill Dirt” was just a niche scroll most people would never find.
“The other Takes said stuff, too,” I tried, but my voice was rough and low. “Worse stuff.”
It didn’t matter. No one heard me. And they wouldn’t have cared, even if they had.
My eyes burned with tears, but I blinked them back. I couldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of everyone.
I pushed my way to the bathroom.
Empty. I checked the stalls for feet. Also empty.
Then I turned on the tap and used a wet paper towel to cool my burning face, even as my tears finally broke through, pouring out and disappearing down the drain.
My nose, as usual, betrayed me by producing more and more snot. God, I was so tired of crying.
I just hoped the sink faucet noise covered my face faucet noise.
Coming to school had been a mistake. I should have told Mom and Dad I was sick. I should have fessed up right away. I should have moved to a different country overnight.
The first bell rang. I blew my nose, rinsed my face, and blew my nose again.
Hands shaking, I pulled out my compact and touched up my makeup.
I had to pretend like everything was normal.
I had to make it through first period. Then second period.
And the rest of the school day. Sure, life (for some species) moved on after the end of the world.
The survivors found opportunities and filled voids.
But that didn’t mean getting there was easy.
All through my morning classes, I heard people whispering, looking at their phones and then at me.
In the brief flashes I saw of their screens, the “Deer Hill Dirt” scroll had a new banner—one with the title in white, a grayed-out photo of Deer Hill Middle School in the background, and a super-unflattering photo of me behind the word dirt.
It wasn’t Jess’s normal style, but she was the one with skills to make something like that. Which meant she was going along with Mary Heather and Kat. She wasn’t defending me at all. But then … she never had.
Unfortunately, classes turned out to be the easy part.
If the whispering got too loud, a teacher ordered people to focus.
If the phones were too obvious, a teacher confiscated them.
Lunchtime, though … I went through the line, as always, and then my traitor legs took me halfway to my normal table before I realized I couldn’t go there.
Mary Heather and Kat were huddled over their phones. Jess was there, too, doing homework. And then there were others who’d squeezed in around them: Sophia, Kelsey, Lee, and a few more who—I guess—I’d said something mean about.
A flare of rage rose up. Mary Heather and Kat had said the same things.
They weren’t any better than me.
The proof was on my phone!
But it did seem possible that posting screenshots of my own would only prolong everyone’s interest in “Deer Hill Dirt,” and not actually fix anything. Just like Victoria had said. Annoyingly, she was well known for being right about stuff.
Ugh.
I sucked in a deep breath and looked for somewhere to sit.
Most of the tables were only half full, thanks to so many kids skipping today, but every table had someone.
It felt like everyone was watching me, whispering about what a loser I was, what a bully.
My face was boiling hot. Where the heck was I supposed to go if I couldn’t find anywhere to eat?
The bathroom? No, I couldn’t eat there. If bathroom fumes mixed with line lunch fumes, it would probably end me.
Maybe the library? No. The librarians would notice if I took my tray in there.
In the back of the cafeteria, a hand rose off the table. A small wave.
Grayson.
He was looking at me, one eyebrow lifted as he tilted his head toward an empty chair.
Relief swept through me as I wove between the tables and placed my tray across from him. There were two other boys already working on their rectangle pizzas. Neither of them looked up when I sat down.
“Thanks.” My voice was practically inaudible, but Grayson nodded.
“It’s hard to lose people you thought were friends.”
“They were my friends. Real friends.”
He glanced at my former table, where Mary Heather had twisted around and was snapping a photo of me. “Sure. If you say so.” Then, before I could return fire, he pulled out his phone and ignored me.
Fine. I could ignore him, too.
“This whole thing is actually your fault.”
Or maybe my mouth would pop off without my brain’s permission.
Grayson looked up, his eyes narrowed. “How is your falling out with your friends my fault?”
“I didn’t have any problems with them until you dropped your books.” Clearly, my brain had totally checked out, because there was no way it would have let my mouth make those words under normal circumstances.
He gave me a penetrating stare. “Please don’t blame me for your problems.”
“Just”—I shook my head—“let me think. I need to deal with this.” Then I pulled out my phone, too, and swiped for Scrollr.
Except Scrollr was still gone.
I jammed a soggy fry into my mouth and chewed.
This was so confusing. I didn’t even want to look at Scrollr after what happened yesterday, but still, my muscle memory thought I should. Why? Just to torture myself?
Maybe people had commented something truly terrible about me, and I should know about it.
Or maybe they hadn’t.
Suddenly, Knight’s cat-in-a-box drawing was on my screen, my fingers having swiped for that when Scrollr proved inaccessible. I stared at the cat’s wry little smile for a few seconds until the tension in my shoulders finally released.
Superposition. Everything in that scroll was mean and not mean at the same time. It wouldn’t settle into one reality until I looked.
I wouldn’t look.
Instead, I would deliver the promised photo to Knight. I swiped over to my shots from this morning.
The focus was weird on some of them. A couple were blurry. But two showed potential. In the first one, the branches were dark silhouettes against a woolly sky, a scattering of bright red leaves the only pops of color. I liked that one.
The other was from a slightly different angle.
Instead of just the sky, you could see the gray sidewalk rolling up the length of the shot, toward a faded red barn in the distance.
And on the sidewalk, framed by the branches and leaves, was Grayson.
He was walking away, just a small silhouette from this perspective.
Okay, so I was annoyed at Grayson, but that was a good photo.
I couldn’t send it to Knight, obviously—not with someone I knew in the shot.
Still, I imported both photos into the editing app and messed around with the sliders until the sky looked even moodier and the red leaves seemed like magic incarnate.
Then I saved them into different albums—one for photos to send to Knight, and one for photos I’d keep to myself.
Before I lost my nerve, I sent the tree photo.
Me:
Assignment complete!
Knight Errant:
…
Wow
That’s really pretty
Me:
You think??
So, that other photo, the one I told you about, with the person?
That one started a ton of drama … I only meant to show it to one friend.
And they liked it.
But then a couple other people saw it too and … it didn’t go
well. Long, painful story.
So I was pretty nervous about sharing another picture with someone.
It helps that I don’t know you, maybe.
Knight Errant:
Yeah I get that
Anonymity helps
Sorry sharing your other photo didn’t go well
But I really like this one!
It’s peaceful
I bit my lip to hide a smile. Maybe he was just being nice. Or maybe I actually had a smidge of photographic skill. I wished I could ask Jess for her opinion on this shot, but …
When I glanced over at her, she was deep in conversation with the others. The “Deer Hill Dirt” crew, scheming together.
I shoveled down a few more fries and went back to my phone.
Me:
Since we’re future best friends, tell me something about you.
I feel like I should know more than just your non-weird hobby.
Knight Errant:
Yeah, probably so.
Well, I’m cursed …
Me:
Whoa really??
Like … as a frog or something?
Or by a jealous fairy with a spinning wheel fixation?
Or to be able to tell the future but no one will ever believe you?
Most importantly: do you need help???
Knight Errant:
Lmao
None of those things
Me:
Okay that’s good because I just remembered what the fix is for most curses and I don’t know you well enough for all that.
Knight Errant:
That’s vvv fair
But this is just the everyday curse of being the youngest child overshadowed by overachieving siblings.
Me:
OMG ME TOO
ME TOO ME TOO
Knight Errant:
REALLY?
I mean maybe that’s not so weird
Plenty of elder siblings around
They only get to be elder because of us!
Me:
We’re doing them such a huge favor and they don’t even know
Knight Errant:
Okay so we have the same curse
What else do we have in common?
I know you like reading about superposition, but do you like fantasy books?
Me:
YES!
Knight Errant:
GOOD
I don’t think I could be future best friends with someone who doesn’t like fantasy
Me:
Glad I didn’t disappoint!
In the corner of my phone, the clock ticked up. Lunch was almost over. Quickly, I shoved a few more bites into my mouth, then sent another message while I chewed.
Me:
I need to go for now. School wants to ruin my LIFE
Knight Errant:
Oh boy do I know the feeling
Me:
But chatting with you has brightened up my whole day
So thank you
Knight Errant:
Honestly … same. It’s too much to explain right now, but things haven’t been great
Knowing I have a future BFF helps
You seem like a really kind person.
Was I? I definitely didn’t feel like a kind person. Not lately, anyway.
I really, really didn’t want to disappoint Knight, but when he learned I wasn’t just Cardinal but Virginia from “Deer Hill Dirt,” it seemed inevitable he’d see me the same way everyone else did: petty, mean, someone to avoid.
Which meant Knight could never ever know who I really was.
The bell rang. Across the table, Grayson was finishing his lunch and gathering his things. Beyond him, my ex-friends were heading out the door, their arms looped together even though it was wildly impractical.
“Will you be okay?” Grayson asked quietly.
“What do you care?” I clenched my jaw. “We barely know each other. You never talked to me before all this. So don’t act like we’re friends.”
Grayson frowned and hiked his bag over his shoulder. “Okay. Message received.”
He strode away, leaving me alone.