51. Harper
Chapter 51
Harper
I tap my pen on the desk, my eyes glued to the clock. The vodka in my water bottle isn’t doing its job. I have a headache, no buzz, I haven’t been able to get Jude out of my head for more than a minute today.
Every class I go to, every hallway I walk through, the ghost of him is there. Although we hardly ever ran into each other during school, I always felt his presence. Even now, when I know he’s at home, it’s like he’s just around the corner.
I’m getting a stiff neck from constantly glancing over my shoulder to check if someone’s watching me. And the feeling is getting worse. Everyone in my English lit class keeps giving me weird looks.
Paranoia. I doubt more than five people in this class know my name. But as the class drags on, there’s an itching between my shoulder blades. I hear a suppressed giggle behind me, and when I turn around the girl sitting behind me drops her eyes and starts doodling intently on the cover of her workbook.
What the fuck?
Lunch couldn’t have taken longer to roll around. I don’t bother eating—what’s left of my vodka will hit harder on an empty stomach—but I decide to get a soda and some M&Ms so I can stop fidgeting.
“Harper?”
I look up and smile weakly at Marissa. “Hey. What’s up?”
She glances around, murmurs, “Meet me in the bathroom,” and then hurries away before I can answer.
My skin starts crawling. I down the last of my soda, take a big gulp from my water bottle and weave through the crowds starting to pour into the cafeteria.
“Slut.”
I spin around, frowning. Did someone just...? No one is looking at me—as in making a point of not looking at me. I try my best to block out anything else I hear en-route to the bathroom, but I swear I hear more than one whispered whore , or slut before I push into the restroom.
The last stall is closed. I go over and knock, and Marissa bleats out, “Harper?”
“Yeah. Let me in.” I sound gruff, but I can’t help it. A guy I just passed in the hall asked for my number, and when I said “no” he sneered at me and called me a bitch. My heart is racing and my skin is crackling with pins and needles.
As soon as she unlocks it, I rush inside and lean my back on the door. Marissa is sitting on the closed lid, her eyes wide as she chews nervously at her bottom lip.
“What the fuck is going on?” I blurt out.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“Me?”
Marissa shakes her head, her eyes narrowing “Oh my God. Do you really think I’m going to buy this bullshit?”
I hold up my hands when Marissa stands, and then grab her shoulders to urge her back down again. “I don’t know what’s going on. Why did you tell me to come here?”
She lowers her chin, staring at me with incredulous eyes. “I’m not mad, Harper. I just...I wish you’d told me.”
“Oh my God, told you what?” I’m screeching like a fucking barn owl, but I can’t help it. I’m so fucking frustrated, I feel like shaking her. And there’s no way that’s a normal reaction because Marissa is the kindest person I’ve met in my life. A bit prudish sometimes, but nice as fuck.
She crosses her arms over her chest and studies me for a moment as if she’s trying to make up her mind about something. “You never told me you went to Sean’s party.”
Sean...? What the fuck?
My skin goes ice-cold. “How did you...who told you that?”
But I already know. My first instinct is to blame Jude, but that makes zero sense. What does make sense is Alex running his mouth because he seems convinced I should tell someone what happened.
“I...I don’t think we can be friends anymore,” Marissa says hollowly. She stands, but she does it slowly, so I don’t grab her again. I have a feeling she’d fight me this time.
“Because I went to a fucking party without you? Oh my God, Marissa.”
Her mouth tightens at my shrill words. But fuck, if she’s going to throw away our friendship because I don’t lock myself in my room and study every night like she does, then I don’t know what the fuck we were doing being friends in the first place.
She sniffs and gives me a derisive once-over. “I heard the rumors, you know, but I thought you were better than that.”
“Than what ?” I yell.
“Please move,” she says, dropping her eyes as red spots jump up on her cheeks. “I have to get to class.”
I slam my hand on the door. “It’s lunchtime,” I growl. “If you don’t want to be near me, then just say it, you fucking pussy.”
Shock drains the color from her face. “What is wrong with you?” she whispers.
“Nothing, Marissa. I’m fucking perfect.” I grab the top of the door and rip it open, catching her on the shoulder. She yelps like I punched her, and I roll my eyes as she scrambles to get out of the stall. “Nice knowing you!” I yell after her as she runs out of the bathroom.
I slam the stall closed and plant my ass on the toilet lid, glaring at the mess of graffiti scrawled on the back. “Bitch!” I’m fucking hyperventilating, I’m so pissed off.
Good riddance to bad?—
I tilt my head and lean forward, my mouth falling open. I thought I was seeing things, but even after blinking a few times, it’s still there. In bright red sharpie.
HARPY DERTH IS A WHORE