4 #2
Write an article about him. In front of everyone.
Aegan wasn’t merely letting me take the test; he was giving me the chance to make up for my mistake at the poker game.
And it was, in fact, a cruelly clever idea.
Everybody saw me as the girl who thought so highly of herself that she’d taken him on, so now I had no other choice but to write something positive about him and make up for calling him an idiot by framing the article as an I’m sorry.
The worst part was that he thought that’s what I was going to do. His jerk face was basically saying, Come on, I’m letting you redeem yourself.
Seriously, Aegan, never underestimate me.
Challenge accepted!
I left my backpack on the chair and headed to the whiteboard to pick up the stylus.
As it was a double-sided, rotating whiteboard, I flipped it over so that nobody could see anything while I was writing.
Nor could they stop me. All the while I felt the heavy, judging gazes on me, waiting.
I could hear some whispering. My hand kept moving.
I was in full flow. As soon as I finished writing, I hit Publish, then flipped the board over, walked to my chair, grabbed my backpack, and left the classroom without saying a word. Something like this called for an epic exit, so I left everyone to read what I’d written:
“The Tagus student council may be difficult to understand at first, but it’s nothing more than a group devoted to defending the rights of students.
Its president, Aegan Cash, makes sure of this.
Reliable and a man of many talents, his last name precedes him.
He may seem intimidating, but he leads with authority and resolve, masking his greatest flaw: that he is, in all truth, a complete idiot clinging to outdated customs—and, they say, someone you shouldn’t dare to challenge.
In your first year you have two choices: love him or bury yourself under a rock so his macho boot doesn’t crush you. ”
Maybe it could’ve been a bit better, but I was really pleased with myself.
Of course, there was still worse to come that day. This was just the start.
The article was my way of sending Aegan a message: Don’t provoke me because you might be in for a surprise.
His reply would be much worse: Your attacks will never go unchallenged.
I realized something was going on as I walked down the second-floor hallway.
Some girls stared blankly, which was normal, but others were giving me funny looks.
They walked past me, looked at their cell phones, then looked at me again with disdain and whispered things to each other.
Where were their manners? They probably only brought them out for special occasions.
I assumed they’d read the article, so I ignored them and went downstairs to the main floor.
There, another group of girls did the same.
They weren’t whispering though and instead burst into mocking laughter.
A couple of guys even looked at me, giving me cheeky, curious once-overs, as if checking out what I had to offer.
It was all very strange and suspicious. There was something else going on apart from my article, but I kept going with my head held high and wearing my best fuck you face.
As I walked out of the building, some girls standing near the entrance railing saw me and pouted.
I intentionally walked over to the big board next to them, which advertised upcoming events, and pretended to read the dates for the Arts Faculty activities.
I overheard one of them say, “She didn’t really mean it; she’s obviously mad about him. ”
Okay, something was up—something that I had a sudden and bitter feeling I wasn’t going to like. Something that, unfortunately, would come from or have to do with Aegan but had nothing to do with my article.
I headed straight to my building. To get there quicker, I grabbed one of the bikes students could use. I kept trying to come up with an explanation for the looks I was getting, and the whispers, but I had the feeling it was something new.
And it was.
As soon as I stepped into the apartment, a wave of relief washed over me.
Here, there were no looks, no comments, no rejection.
It was a small place, but safe. White walls, a small room, and, at the back, three doors, one of which was the bathroom door.
A large window looked out onto the street.
Artie had put a potted plant on the center table, saying that plants filled the room with positive vibes.
I didn’t have anything like that because I didn’t even believe in myself.
Artie came out of her room as soon as she heard the door close.
She was wearing pajama shorts, her face was covered with a green face mask, her dark hair was tied in two buns at the sides, and she was wearing polka-dot slippers.
Her green eyes looked worried. She was holding her cell phone against her chest.
“What’s going on?” I asked, getting straight to the point.
“You don’t know?” she replied right back, kind of surprised. “Haven’t you seen it?”
Oh, fuck. There was something to see.
“No, what is it?” I asked after taking a breath.