To Our Pinky Promises

Chapter 5

I walked down the halls with my head down. For some reason, I felt like all eyes were on me today.

And no, I didn't mean that in a condescending way. I meant that in a "everyone's giving me judgmental looks" kind of way.

They whispered as I walked past them and stared in a way that screamed "I can't believe she did that."

It made my senses tingle and the hair behind my neck rise in alarm. I haven't been bullied or cornered since the 8th grade. I had gotten used to getting bullied at one point but it had ended years ago so I didn't quite bother remembering how I should act or react in the face of bullying. 

I mean who would've thought that I'd get bullied as a freaking senior in high school? You'd think I would be at the top of the food chain now, but I guess being a senior doesn't secure much. I honestly don't know what I would do if I started getting bullied.

Good news was that I soon found out why they were giving me funny looks, though. 

Plastered all over my locker door were posters of a picture of drunk me at the club a few nights ago. I was laughing at something in the picture, looking at Ty as I slightly leaned on him. My elbow was nudging his side as we stood just outside of the house hosting the party. The party lights that filtered out of the windows beside the main exit lit the ground around us. Ty was smirking as he looked down at me.

Under the picture, the words "PARTY SLUT" were printed in a shocking neon pink.

Since I was conveniently drunk off my face that night, with 0% sobriety, I have no recollection of what actually happened. But considering Ty's (probably horrible) reputation, it was easy enough to understand why people were gossiping about me. I knew I didn't do shit with Ty that night because I had woken up on Kimmy's bed, in her room, but my inner conscience acknowledged that I did look like a slut in the picture.

The strap to my top was hanging off my shoulder and my shorts looked way too short. My heels were hanging off its straps in my hand, completing what I'd describe to be 'I just got fucked' look.

Nonetheless, it didn't feel great to have 5 posters covering your locker door with the words 'PARTY SLUT' scribbled over it.

Safe to say, I felt attacked.

Not that I was trying to slut-shame anyone here, my conscience was just stricter on myself more than anyone else because I was raised in an environment that required me to maintain a prestige reputation.

I whipped around, trying to find out who did this to my locker, as if they would conveniently make themselves known. Note the heavy sarcasm here. I knew it was pointless because I already knew who did this and I knew I wasn't going to find her in the crowd. There was only one person that would put this much effort to humiliate me.

Everyone gave me similar looks and I had no doubt that they all saw the posters. If they haven't passed my locker and seen the decorations, they've probably received a soft copy of it through text messages. Shit travels fast in this school. Gossip spreads like wildfire.

I couldn't hold back the tears even if I wanted to. It wasn't like I wanted to cry. I didn't want to look weak by crying over something so childish and petty. But there was just something about being humiliated this way that makes me feel vulnerable. 

Maybe it was because I've forgotten what it feels like to be bullied and am no longer numb against it. I didn't know how to put up a strong front in this situation. I can't remember how I handled being bullied in the past but I know I probably handled it better than how I was handling it right then.

I ducked my head before anyone could see the tears in my eyes and snap even more embarrassing pictures. I didn't want anymore of my pictures to be taken and pasted on my locker door or be distributed to the entire student body. God knows what other captions they would come up with next.