“The audience broke out in pandemonium as everyone gawked at my ass now flashing the conference hall, only my bright pink thong giving me any privacy. I needed to get myself upright, but both my wrist and ankle burned. I had to roll over like a human-shaped Slinky down several steps until I’d managed to get my head above my knees.
“Ms. Maxwell, bless her, rushed over to help me up.
“When I finally got on my feet, I pushed the agony out of my mind and hobbled out of the room, completely horrified.”
I paused.
Nobody was laughing. I’d started reading this in a fun voice, intended it to be that comedy of tragedy plus time, recalling something that no longer mattered, but my fists were clenched, and I’d nearly snarled as I repeated this event. I couldn’t help but add one more piece of information for the jury.
“This might seem small on paper, but all the ease I used to have speaking in front of people evaporated that day. Every public appearance thereafter has been a battle. Whenever I stand at a microphone or on a stage, I will always hear an auditorium full of my peers laughing at me.
“The sole reason I started this contest was to gain that confidence back, and thanks to you all, I think I finally have. Thank you.”
I set the microphone back on the stand and took a breath. I’d intentionally left out the horrible aftermath. The fractured ankle that had me on crutches for weeks. The fact that my running career ended that day. The Internet memes students made from one ass-baring photo for months after.
I stepped down from the stage, shaking, pissed, and wondering what Tristan would have to say. Would I finally get a sincere apology? Would he admit what he’d done to me in the quest for victory?
Burning in my rage anew, I thought about Aida asking me how I’d ever forgiven him. I’d forgiven him because it had been convenient, because I didn’t want it between us, but I’d never truly forgotten. Maybe I’d never truly forgiven.
I sat down, surprised steam didn’t shoot from my ears. Zane reached over and rubbed my shoulder. I twisted around, looking for Alfie. His was the only hand I wanted comforting me right then.
When Miranda called Tristan up next, I was almost shocked he had the nerve to get up onstage.
Chapter 28
“Bummer,” Tristan said into the mic. “I was hoping Sierra wouldn’t go there. You should know Sierra has thrown this accusation at me several times in the past few weeks, so out of curiosity I dug up my own entry to compare notes. I had to flip through my entire notebook to find it. But find it I did.”
He held the journal aloft and displayed the page with the writing on it, as if it were state’s evidence. “Note that this is right here in my notebook. It’s even surrounded by other entries. This is what I wrote that same day. No revisions. No embellishments.”
He looked out in my direction. “Cross my heart, Sierra.”
Then he read.
“Today was completely fubar.
“I woke up feeling like a turd thanks to a massive hangover, but I had to go to some assembly thing because of my stupid essay on weed. I felt like I was going to yak, so I begged the girl who was supposed to go after me to switch places while I pulled my shit together.
“I have no clue what happened next. While she was reading, the display thing photobombed her. My head hurt like it might crack open, and I couldn’t figure out why the pics were all of me. I spun around, looking for the source, and noticed an unattended laptop to the side of the stage.
“When the girl speaking saw what was happening, she completely freaked. She looked like she wanted to cry, and then she looked at me like she wanted to murder me, like I had anything to do with it. She was pissed. She stormed off and totally face-planted on the stairs. Man, that had to hurt.
“I started to get up, but Ms. Maxwell pointed a finger at me and told me to stay put.
“As soon as the girl had fled the auditorium, Ms. Maxwell came over and asked what I knew about the prank. I shook my head. I thought I might pass out from the pounding in my ears.
“She told me to get up onstage and continue, but she left the room, chasing after the other girl.
“There was nothing I could do but stand up, though I had to grab the back of the chair when the room spun.
“On my way to the stage, I saw a pale kid rush over to the laptop and mess with it. The monitor onstage went black. The kid fled when I looked back at him.
“One of the other teachers waved me onto the stage, and I made it that far before I puked on my own shoes. It splattered onto my pants and nearly hit the other teacher. I slipped and fell into my own vomit. It covered my hands and knees when I tried to stand. Totally disgusting. I’m pretty sure that will end up on YouTube tonight.
“The whole thing was like a bad nightmare.
“By then some other girl handed me a roll of paper towels and a bottle of Formula 409. Jesus.”
Now people in the audience were laughing—with Tristan, not at him. Of course they were. He’d really sold the whole graphic, disgusting mess of his ordeal. And I was just “the girl” who’d had a couple of pictures to deal with.
He was right that a lot of it ended up on YouTube. I hadn’t much cared about his problems because video of my own spectacular fall had been shared and reshared as well, and I blamed him for it all. I’d given him a chance to apologize, but he never did. He might have been sick, but I was sure he’d switched places with me to coordinate with the embarrassing pictures. I never knew how he’d pulled it off, but I never doubted he did.
And here he was trying to pin the blame on some mysterious stranger. Convenient.
Tristan hadn’t finished talking.
“At the time, I couldn’t think who might have wanted to sabotage me, but now that I have a fuller picture, I know perfectly well who that pale kid at the computer was.”
He lifted a finger and pointed to the bar.
“It was Alfie Jordan.”
I stood up. “Bullshit!”
He had no shame.
“Is it? What did I have to gain from showing pictures from my own Facebook profile? Did you ever doubt that I was legitimately sick that day? You know those pictures were intended to play out during the first presentation to embarrass me, and your boyfriend didn’t anticipate we’d change the order, so he couldn’t correct it once you started. You were collateral damage.”
“Why? Why would he do that? You had all the motive. You’re the one who must win at any cost. You sabotaged me back then so you’d beat me just like you did a week ago. It’s your M.O.”
“You sure about that?” He smirked. “Why don’t we ask Alfie why he did it?”
I’d had enough. “Why don’t you—”
Before I could finish, the audience sort of gasped in unison as Alfie edged into the spotlight between me and Tristan. The look of shame on his face made my heart sink. His expression confessed it all.
“Alfie?”
“I’ve wanted to tell you, Sierra.” A sigh escaped him like ten years of regret. “I’m so sorry. It was a prank gone wrong.” He looked over at Tristan. “I’ve wanted to apologize to you since it happened, but so much time had passed.”
“What?” I couldn’t process this. “Why would you do that?”