t w o : judgement

I wake up to dozens of dings, pings, and whatever other sounds my phone decided to make.

All of the sudden, people are extra talkative. So what, a titty pic got let out? Isn't it kind of normalized nowadays?

It's not even mine.

After last night's revelations, Cas and Sophie tried to reply to clarenton secrets's post, basically saying that I don't have a piercing, so it's not me. Sadly, nobody would listen. A few people stuck up for me, but most either didn't believe it, or didn't want to.

I'm contemplating shutting down all my social media and taking a break--the shit's toxic.

Who the hell runs clarenton secrets, you ask?

Well, here's the answer: we're all asking, too.

It could be one vindictive bitch or a group of bitches. Either way, they're some bitches for posting child pornography, among other things.

I remember when Katy Schmitt's therapist's notes got leaked. How they managed that, I have no clue. That scandal led to one discovery: Katy has daddy issues.

Where will this scandal lead? Currently, people aren't listening. I'm not spending my days trying to convince everyone of my innocence. Fuck that.

"Let's go get coffee," I send into Sophie, Casandra, LeAnn, and my groupchat.

"You sure?" LeAnn asks.

"Of course. We all like coffee. Let's get some."

"I just don't want you to get catcalled or for anyone to say anything out there," LeAnn continues.

She's so sweet. LeAnn is the sweetheart of our little group. She's always uplifting people, whether they're her friends or not. I love that about her. I know that even if I had fucked all those alleged guys (whose names I never got, by the way), she'd just be there to listen, not to judge.

"I say even if it wasn't true, enjoy the attention... maybe get some dick?"

Casandra, on the other hand, says whatever pops into her head at any given moment. She seems rough on the outside, especially because of her resting bitch face, but she's a softie at heart. Even though she says some crazy shit, I know I can always count on her.

"It WAS NOT true, and I will not enjoy any unsolicited attention, thank you very much. Also, I have a boyfriend."

"Blah, blah, blah... all I hear is boring, annoying, used up..."

"He is not used up! I thought you liked Aaron," I send with laughing emojis.

"Aaron is a jock stereotype. We all know you could do better," Sophie inserts.

I can tell it's her before I even check the contact name. She tells it how it is. Being on the school newspaper and obsessed with works in print, she's exceptionally outspoken and bold.

“Yeah, but you always have to be more attractive than your significant other… it keeps them humble. And he’s not like every other jock,” I send with an angel emoji.

“I say: if you want to go out, let’s go out. Fuck people’s opinions,” Sophie picks up.

“Not like the other jocks, yeah, you say that all the time,” Cas texts. I can smell the sarcasm in her tone.

I turn off the phone before they can commence any more bashing of my boyfriend and put on some sweats. I’m not letting anyone get the chance to make jokes about what I wear. Sweats are safe.

Getting in my car, I head for Casandra’s first.

She walks out the house with a black hair wrap tied around her head. Most girls are afraid to leave the house with a bonnet on, but Cas doesn’t give a fuck.

She’s frowning down at her handbag, seemingly searching for something. If someone who didn’t know her were here instead, they’d be wondering what the hell made her so angry. This is her default setting.

Finally, she locks her front door and gets in beside me.

“You look like you’ve just rolled out of bed.”

“Duh, it’s fucking 10 am. And likewise,” she finishes.

“I look like this because I’m laying low. What’s your excuse?” I counter.

She just rolls her eyes. Haha, I get the last word.

Despite her just-got-out-of-bed look, Casandra still has her normal glow. Without makeup, her cream skin shines, and I know it’s because of her skin care regimen… she just won’t tell me exactly what she does.

“It’s a secret. I can’t have competition while pulling these dudes,” she’d say, then I would flip her the bird.

She definitely has no problem pulling guys. She would walk into a party, make eye contact with someone, and instantly they’d be hers. At the end of the day, she holds the cards, no matter how much a guy thinks he’s in charge.

Soon, we arrive at Sophie’s condo. She looks the opposite of us bums. Clad in expensive makeup and a Chanel purse, she approaches the car with a walk that screams “rich.”

I’m sure she told us once that when her mom, Carol Carrolton, interviewed Naomi Campbell, she taught Soph how to walk.

Her long box braids sway in the wind, completing her elegant sashay.

“Girl. It’s so early. How did you get all dolled up so fast?” Cas asks.

“A good journalist is always ready… what if there’s a story? I need to look presentable for a possible interview.”

I narrow my eyes, “It’s summertime.”

She stutters, “Ri-Right. I mean for the summer recap issue.”

“There’s a--?” Cas starts.

“Yep. I’m pioneering it,” she smiles.

She’s always trying to go above and beyond, especially with her writing and reporting. Sophie basically carries the whole paper, trying to be the best. I know that most of her drive comes from the desire to please her mom, who has very little time for her. Being even half as good as the Carol Carrolton would make Soph complete.

Casandra plays some game on her phone as we turn toward LeAnn’s neighborhood. Then, abruptly she shoots her gaze to me.

She groans, “Is Aaron coming?”

“No. He’s busy with something,” I reply.

“Good. I’m not giving up my seat.”

I roll my eyes and hook my phone up to the Bluetooth.

Once I pull up to her house, LeAnn is waiting on her step. She’s always so punctual—sometimes it’s annoying how much. She probably started getting dressed as I sent the first text message.

She enters in the back, next to Sophie, who’s probably listening to a podcast in her earphones.

“So, where to?” I ask, tapping the steering wheel.

“Dude, you asked us out,” Cas laughs.

“Well, I did say coffee at first. Any other ideas?” I look into the rearview mirror.

“Maybe the mall?” LeAnn suggests.

Anything to fill this day would suffice. I just need to be in a different head space than what I’ve been in.

I nod. Coffee and the mall it is.

We make our orders at Saxby’s coffee and find a table in the back.

Sophie takes a short look up from her phone, “How exactly are you going to combat this rumor?”

I don’t even know.

“We tried correcting clarenton secrets, offering the concrete evidence in the comments and no one listened. People are still saying shitty things and making jokes,” I shrug.

“Could I get an interview with you?”

Is she serious?

“An interview, Sophie? Hell no. I’m not publicizing this any more than it has been.”

“Soph, what? An interview?” Cas says, clearly appalled.

“Insensitive, Soph,” LeAnn adds.

At this point, we’re all looking at her with an eyebrow raised. LeAnn was right. How could she want to use my misfortune to boost views and followers on her I*******m account?

I remember when she got poor Katy to talk with her, and the comments brutalized her. I’m definitely not doing that. It’s best to approach something like this quietly. If I don’t allow myself to fall prey to vicious trolls, then I won’t.

Sometimes, I swear she cares about her writing more than other people's well-being. It's just not the time or place.

As we’re looking at her, hoping for some explanation for her weird request, a waitress comes over with our drinks.

I glare at the writing on mine: “Slut of Clarenton.”

“What the hell?” I blurt.

Then I look up to see the waitress is none other than Sarah Hilman. I forgot that bitch worked here.

I roll my eyes and take a sip. It’s still the best coffee in our town. I hope she didn’t put anything in it.

I look at her suspiciously.

“Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned. Only the best for Clarenton’s most popular rest stop,” she smiles and sashays back to the brewers.

LeAnn reaches over to touch my shoulder, “Don’t even think about her. She’s been after you since, what? 8^th grade?”

I nod. She’s right again. Sarah’s been a bitch to me for almost 5 years. She goes out of her way to say something snide to or about me. She can’t get over something that happened forever ago.

Cas just slurps down her iced latte. Once she realizes I’m staring at her, she says, “What? It’s yours that might be poisoned.”

She giggles with the straw in her mouth.

I’m not one to restrict my friends from obtaining other friends, but Sarah is where I draw the line… a faint line. Casandra still talks to her from time to time. She knows how hostile we get when we near each other. She’s the vinegar, and I’m the baking soda… but take that to the 100^th power.

But Cas insists on being friendly with her because we were all friends once. Because of her nature, she takes a while to warm up to people. We grew up together, so she trusts us… including Sarah.

Suddenly, I hear some snickers from the corner of the coffee shop.

The dumb jocks are guffawing and pointing to our table. I see some lacrosse guys, basketball guys, and one particular football guy.