Chapter 3 #2
Blaire has always been the ringleader of their clique. She’s the kind of girl who never raises her voice because she never has to. Her cruelty is clean and deliberate. She spreads rumors the way other people breathe, and somehow, they always stick.
Beside her stands Veronica, tall and willowy, with a sharp mouth and sharper nails. She’s the one who whispers insults just loud enough for me to hear, then smiles sweetly when the nuns look her way.
Camille, the brunette beauty, bounces on the balls of her feet, bored and restless. She’s impulsive, reckless, and always the one who likes to escalate things just to see what will happen.
And finally, there’s Madeline, always lingering half a step behind the others. She never starts anything, but she laughs the loudest. I’m not sure why, but her silence has always hurt the most.
We’ve been classmates for most of my life, which means they know exactly how to hurt me.
It’s my own fault for not hiding my phone better. They’ve watched me long enough to know it’s important to me. They know the only time I ever smile at this school is when I have it in my hands. And now they’re going to use the one thing that brings me joy to hurt me.
“I said, unlock it,” Blaire repeats when I don’t jump to do her bidding immediately.
“No,” I say, as firmly as I can manage this time.
“No?” Blaire laughs softly. “Did you just say no to me?”
I square my shoulders, forcing down the panic clawing at my chest. “Give me my phone back,” I say, extending my arm, palm flat. “Please.”
Blaire grins. “You want your phone?” she says. “Then come and get it.”
Before I can stop her, she bolts out of the locker room and into the girls’ bathroom. I chase after her, heart pounding, just in time to see her drop the phone into the toilet.
“There,” she says, stepping back. “There’s your phone.”
She crosses her arms as the others crowd behind her, their own phones already in their hands, watching and waiting for me to kneel on the grimy floor and fish it out.
I don’t have time to think. I only react, lunging for the bowl and grabbing the phone, toilet water dripping from it, soaking my hands and clothes.
“Gross,” Blaire sneers. “God, you really are pathetic.”
Their laughter rings in my ears.
My hands shake as I try to dry the phone with my gym T-shirt, but it’s useless. The screen remains black. It’s dead.
Hot tears burn my eyes.
“What’s going on here?”
A voice comes from behind the girls currently filming my breakdown.
“What’s it to you, fatso?” Blaire snaps back, giggling with the others.
Like Blaire, I don’t see it coming. The slap echoes through the bathroom as the girl who just entered brings her hand across Blaire’s face.
“Ouch!” Blaire yelps, clutching her red cheek. “You can’t touch me, you orphan! Don’t you know who I am? I can get you expelled! Just wait until I tell my parents!”
“Bo-fucking-hoo,” the blonde fires back. “Go cry home to Mommy and Daddy all you want. I’ll make sure to tell Mother Superior how you were all bullying a classmate. Let’s see who gets expelled then.”
Silence crashes down on the room like a boulder.
Blaire scoffs, trying to mask her unease. “Let’s go. We got what we came for.”
“Not so fast,” the girl says. “The video. Erase it from your phones. Now.”
“What video?” Veronica coos mockingly, only for Blaire to elbow her sharply in the gut.
“You know damn well what video,” the girl snaps. “I want to see every single one of you delete it. Now. I won’t ask again.”
She raises her hand, palm flat, the threat unmistakable.
I blink through my tears as I watch them do it, one by one, each girl deleting the video they just recorded.
“Now go,” the girl says. “Before I change my mind and teach you all some manners.”
They leave in a tight cluster, heels clicking against the tiles, their laughter forced now, thin and brittle. Once they’re gone, the girl approaches me as I remain seated on the floor in one of the stalls.
“Are you okay?” she asks gently.
I shrug, wiping at my tears.
Am I okay? Well, there’s a question. No. I’m not okay. This phone was more than just a means to talk to the one true friend I had. It was a lifeline. And now… it’s gone.
No. I’m not okay. I don’t think I ever will be okay.
“You’re Luciano and Enzo’s sister, right?” she asks, her blue eyes softening.
“Please don’t tell them,” I manage to say. “They can’t know about this.”
Her shoulders slump somewhat at my plea.
“Are you sure?” she asks, a kind smile on her face. “From what I know of them, they’d set those mean girls straight better than I ever could.”
I want to tell her that she’s done more for me in the last five minutes than anyone else has in all the years I’ve attended Sacred Heart. But between the heartbreak of losing my only link to Raffaele and the fear of my brothers finding out what happened here, I can’t seem to form the words.
“All right,” she says gently. “If you don’t want your brothers finding out, that’s your prerogative, and I’ll respect it.” She sighs softly and slips an arm around my shoulders. “But how about we get you out of those wet clothes?”
I let her lead me back into the locker room, the ruined phone clutched in my hands the entire time. I don’t remember taking off my clothes or putting on dry ones. I only remember the weight of the phone, slick and lifeless against my palms.
“I don’t have one,” she says quietly, nodding toward the phone in my grip, “but I’ve heard putting a wet phone in rice sometimes helps.”
I don’t answer her. I just stare at it, wishing I’d been smart enough to memorize Raffaele’s number. Or write it down somewhere safe. But I was too afraid someone in my family would find it somehow and realize that I’ve been talking to the enemy all this time.
I never imagined Raffaele would be taken from me like this.
“Come on,” she says, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “Let me help you.”
She pulls me along, and my tears blur everything that comes into view. I barely register where we’re going until we stop beneath the chapel, in an empty hallway lined with stacked boxes of canned goods and bagged food.
“This is everything the sisters were able to gather from this week’s food drive,” she says, already rummaging through the boxes. “There has to be a packet of rice in here somewhere.”
She digs faster, her movements growing more frantic by the second, then suddenly freezes.
“Bingo,” she says, lifting a small packet triumphantly. Her grin is wide and bright, as if she’d uncovered a buried treasure. “May I?” she asks, her eyes dropping to the phone still clenched in my hands.
I hesitate for a second, then loosen my grip and pass it to her. She slips the phone into the rice without ceremony, sealing the bag shut afterwards.
“Now all we can do is wait,” she says, smiling warmly at me. “Hopefully, before school ends, it’ll be good as new.”
I don’t dare to hope. I slide down the wall and hug my knees to my chest, holding myself together.
After a long pause, she asks, “What’s your name?”
“Annamaria,” I answer automatically, my eyes never leaving the bag of rice.
“Hi, Annamaria. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Frankie,” she says, offering her hand, a gentle smile curving her lips.
I wipe an errant tear from my cheeks and shake her hand.
Another pause stretches between us before she speaks again.
“So… does that happen a lot?” Frankie asks carefully. “Those girls giving you a hard time?” I nod. “Mean girls are the worst, aren’t they?” She scoffs. “Especially rich, mean girls. They already have everything, yet it seems the misery of others is what truly makes them happy. How sad is that?”
“Mom says hurt people hurt people,” I murmur.
Frankie snorts. “Those girls have never had a bad day in their entire lives, much less suffered. Not to say your mom’s wrong, but sometimes bad people just like doing bad things.
” A part of me thinks she might be right.
“My two cents?” she continues. “Keep your head down and don’t give them ammo to mess with you. ”
I look at her after wiping away my tears. “But that’s what I’ve been doing.”
“Do it better,” she says gently. “Trust me. I know where you are. Been there, done that. Still wearing the fucking T-shirt. Damn it, I’m not supposed to curse. Sorry.”
“That’s okay,” I say quietly. “I’ve heard worse.”
She laughs at that. “Yeah. I bet you have, being Luciano’s sister and all.”
My forehead creases at her words. I’m not sure why she singles Lucky out for his cursing when Enzo is just as loud and foul-mouthed. I don’t point that out to her either. Frankie’s been nothing but kind and gentle, and right now, I need that small bit of goodness to ease the ache in my heart.
“Shouldn’t you be in class?” I ask after a while.
“Shouldn’t you?” She winks. “I figured if you weren’t going anywhere, then maybe you’d like some company.”
“Thank you,” I finally manage to say.
“No worries,” she replies, fidgeting with her bracelet.
Frankie doesn’t try to engage me in conversation or small talk, which is a good thing since I’m too heartbroken to say more than a few words at a time.
When we both hear the bell ring, announcing the end of the day, Frankie reaches for the bag of rice.
“Moment of truth,” she says lightly as she pulls the phone free and taps it against her palm to shake off the grains clinging to it. She then hands it to me and says, “Go on. Hopefully it’s working now.”
My fingers close around it, hesitant. The phone feels heavier somehow. Heavy like my soul.
Knowing I can’t postpone this forever, I press the button. The screen flickers. Then lights up.
For a second, I just stare at it, my breath caught somewhere in my chest. The lock screen blooms to life, whole and familiar, like it never left me at all.
“I can’t believe it,” I whisper in astonishment.
Frankie grins. “Told you. As Sister Agnes likes to say, sometimes all you need is a little bit of faith.”
Something in me breaks soon after. Relief rushes through me so fast it makes my knees weak. Before I can think better of it, I step forward and wrap my arms around her. She stiffens in surprise, then laughs softly and hugs me back, warm and solid and real.
“Thank you,” I murmur into her shoulder. The words feel too small, but they’re all I have.
Frankie squeezes me once more before pulling back. “Anytime, Annamaria.”
I look down at the phone in my hands, my chest still tight, my eyes burning again, but this time for a whole different reason—relief.
I thank Frankie more times than necessary before we part ways. When I get home, the phone buzzes almost immediately with an incoming text from Raffaele.
Rafe: So, how was your last day of school?
I stare at the screen, thumbs hovering over the keys, unable to bring myself to type an honest reply.
Me: Same old, same old.
That’s when it hits me.
Those girls might have failed to destroy my phone or take it from me, but they succeeded in stealing something far more precious from me. They took my ability to be honest with Raffaele.
If I can’t tell the truth to the only friend I have, then no one will ever really know me.
Not completely. Not honestly.
And that might be the loneliest thing of all.