Chapter 25
maggie
Maggie could hear her mom on the phone downstairs; she couldn’t make out what she was saying, but she knew it was about prom.
We can’t cancel. Maggie’s been looking forward to it so much – they all have. We need a Plan B. Have you spoken to Amy?
Maggie curled up on her bed, her hand pressed against her mouth so her mom wouldn’t hear her crying.
She wasn’t looking forward to prom.
She was dreading it.
At school she could hide behind her school uniform.
The skinny, perfect girls, girls like Ashley Lincoln or Ashley’s best friend, Darcey Fraser, rolled over the waistbands of their skirts to make them shorter and sexier, and bought their polo shirts two sizes too small to show off their flat stomachs – Rose called them the Crops – but they all still had to wear the same basic uniform.
Maggie was fat, of course, and ugly, but somehow it was easier to fade into the background when everyone was wearing the same thing.
But she had to dress up for prom: she couldn’t let Nicky down. Mom had taken her shopping in Montreal, enthusing way too excitedly over the boring navy dress that’d been the only thing that fit and didn’t make her look like she was wearing a circus tent, but Maggie could hear the comments already.
Where’d you get that tarp? IKEA?
Who brought the whale to prom?
Fat ass, go on a diet!
Poor Nicky. Wonder what it’s like to fuck that?
Mom would tell her to ignore them, sticks and stones, and graduation was only a few days away; after that she’d never have to see any of them again.
But her mom didn’t understand that you couldn’t get away from yourself.
You couldn’t decide not to see yourself anymore, or choose to turn off the noise in your head.
It wouldn’t end with graduation.
It would never end.
Her mom had grown up before the internet. She hadn’t been overweight, like Maggie, but even if she had been, even if she’d been bullied and picked on and picked last, every time, at least she’d have been able to leave it all behind when she got home and closed the bedroom door.
Maggie couldn’t escape, no matter where she went.
Mean girls in the digital age could hurt you anywhere.
They dropped you from group chats without telling you.
They soft-blocked you on social media, so you were no longer able to follow them and were left wondering why.
They used text chats as a way to constantly shift from hot to cold – acting friendly at school, then leaving texts unanswered, then texting all night in minute-to-minute flurries, then ghosting you for days on end.
And that was just the nice stuff.
The stuff they did to people they liked.
Maggie couldn’t open her phone without having to scroll through dozens of vicious, ugly messages, like, every single day.
You could ignore one comment, or ten, or even a hundred; but if enough people told you the same thing, in the end, despite yourself, you started to believe it.
You accepted that you deserved to be hated and despised.
The poison oozed through the virtual world and followed you into the real one, into your bedroom, into your head.
Hope you stroke out and die, you fat bitch; stop wasting our fucking taxes.
Go hang yourself.
Your family would be better off without you.
#diemaggiewalker
She was beginning to think the bullies were right.
Her parents might miss her for a bit, but then they’d get over it, and in the end, she knew they’d be relieved she was gone.
She was nothing but an embarrassment. It was funny how easily she could picture school and prom and everything else in life continuing on without her.
The only reason she hadn’t done it already was Nicky.
Everyone thought he was the one who needed her, but it was the other way round. He was the reason she was still alive. He was the only one who ever made her feel heard.
Finn cast a net of protection around Maggie, saved her from the most savage bullying during school hours.
He’d gone out looking for her when she’d fled the classroom on Monday after Ashley had posted those deepfake photos.
He’d forced the boys in his class to stop forwarding the pictures and delete them.
But Finn was mad about Ashley – like, obsessed – and Maggie knew he’d never believe his girlfriend was the one who’d posted those photos, so she didn’t even try to tell him.
After all, Maggie had no proof. Nicky had tried to get him to see what Ashley was really like once, ages ago, and Finn had totally flipped out and just shut him down.
The two cousins hadn’t spoken for weeks.
It’d taken a long time for them to get back on track, and Maggie knew there was no point trying to get Finn to understand.
He was such a sweet boy, but he had a total blind spot when it came to Ashley.
Maggie had told her mom about some of the bullying, but she was too embarrassed and ashamed to show her the AI photos.
The last thing she needed was her mom or Ms Gray going to the police!
She just wanted Ms Gray to make it stop, but she was too scared to name names, and in the end Ms Gray had just sighed and told her not to let it get to her, and repeated what her mom had said: that she’d be graduating soon and could put it all behind her.
They had no idea what it was like to look in the mirror and completely hate what you saw.
To grab handfuls and handfuls of fat and just want to cut it all off.
To be afraid to leave the house – to even ask a stranger for directions – because you knew you’d be judged.
Her mom had never known what it was like to compare yourself to everyone you met and come up short.
Maggie felt like a failure every single time she ate a meal.
She was so tired. It was like pushing a shopping trolley with a wonky wheel: no matter how hard you tried to go straight, something kept jerking you off course.
At some point, the struggle just became too much.
You didn’t want to fight anymore. You wanted to let go.
Let it . . . whatever . . . just . . . happen.
There was a familiar scratching at the door, and she rolled over on the bed and got up to let Kami in.
He climbed into her lap and licked her face, resting his paws on her shoulders as if he knew she needed a hug.
He was the most gentle dog she’d ever met, though you’d never guess to look at him.
He was mostly pit bull, part Rottweiler.
He’d been terribly treated before he’d ended up at the rescue centre, and was scarred and blind in one eye.
People crossed the street when they saw him, judging him by his appearance: just as they did her.
‘It’s OK, boy,’ she said, scratching behind his torn ears. ‘It’s just a storm. I know it’s noisy, but it’ll stop soon. You don’t have to be scared.’
She peered out of the window. The rain had eased a little, but the wind was more intense than ever: there were tree limbs all over the yard, and several roof tiles lay smashed on the driveway.
The silver birches along the front of the property were whipping back and forth, the tops of some of them bent over so far they almost touched the ground.
Suddenly she heard the sound of the garage door opening beneath her room. Her mom hadn’t mentioned anything about going out this morning. School was cancelled, and everywhere in town was closed because of the storm, even the grocery stores.
Maggie watched her mom reverse out of the garage, then pull forward sharply, and roar out of the drive. She was still staring out of the window when her phone vibrated in the pocket of her sweatpants.
‘Is your mom there?’ Nicky said, when she answered the call.
‘She literally just left,’ Maggie said. ‘She didn’t tell me where she was going. She, like, just left.’ She chewed her thumb anxiously, drawing blood. ‘What’s going on, Nicky? Is everything OK?’
‘No,’ Nicky said.