(you might want to read the last few chapters to refresh your memory because its been way to fuckin long)
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After a certain amount of time spent staring blankly at one's ceiling, the imagination starts to see things. Once I'd reached this point, I realized far too much time had passed with far too little being done to fix the predicament I'd found myself in. It was brought to my attention by, well, half of the school, that everyone either thought a rotten slut or an easy fuck and, subsequently, all interactions I had with people over the course of the day made me teary-eyed or shrivel-nosed with uncomfortability. Girls wanted to be me while boys wanted to bang me, and that did not make me as happy as it might most people. I wanted to go back to being unknown to all but few.
After catching me leaving the scene of what Janet assumed to be River and I screwing in the girls' locker room, she took it upon herself to notify everyone she could think of of what she thought she knew transpired. Friend told friend, stranger heard the whispers circulating and soon enough the entire senior high became a game of broken telephone.
Best friend of three years. Three years. I guess Eva isn't the sentimental type because she sure threw me out quickly.
I'm a slut. I'm an idiot. I'm so lucky. I'm going to regret it. I should've made it known how easy I was earlier on - sexually promiscuous girls are a real man's favorite. These were some things that my first period class informed me of in harsh-whispers and crumpled notes tossed my way.
I'm a slut? I have never gone farther than kissing anyone. An idiot? I have decent grades, but then again, so does every other idiot in the school. I've learned that grades are reflective of your work habits, not your intelligence. If you turn assignments in on time and do what your told, mediocrity is easy to obtain.
So maybe I am an idiot. I thought I could pull that immature prank on Janet with no negative repercussions? How foolish! She did end up using the green-tinted body wash, and knew instantly I was behind it. She figured it was my way of getting back at her for exposing my "inner slut", and stomped straight to the dean's office in all her green-skinned glory to demand I be punished. My two days of suspension would begin tomorrow. I hadn't heard from or seen River after our morning-encounter. He skipped Spanish, much to the teacher's disapproval.
What really ticked me off the most, though, was how River's image wasn't at all fractured by the alleged incident. If anything, his status was heightened. So I heard in impressed chuckles between male friends, River was an absolute legend and, it must be the hair, because Goddamn do the chicks dig it, and he must really be packing as big as girls say he is. The whole experience only reinforced my idea that River Phoenix is one overhyped, pretentious and headache-inducing twat. So when my cell-phone rang at 7:45pm displaying Unknown Caller in flickering letters, I was understandably peeved to hear River's voice at the other end.
"Hello?"
There was not a moments delay before he replied. "Kara, it's me. Can we talk?"
I laugh incredulously. "How did you get this number?"
"It's not important! Can you stop being a bitch for one moment and listen to me." He groans.
"I'm a bitch?" I practically yell.
"Yeah, you're a bitch, and you're also ignoring my question. Can we talk?" He repeats.
"No we can't talk!" I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'm hanging up."
Not even ten seconds pass before it rings again. And when I let it go to voice mail, the ringing starts up again, then again, and eventually stops, signaling a one new voicemail message.
