It took longer than I expected. In the hallway, Sloane’s eyes and cheeks were bright red. She was surrounded by the Chorus Girls, and they barely reacted when I walked by. I only glanced at her for a second, but when I did, she glared at me like she knew. But Layla was still standing beside her with one arm tossed over her shoulder. Layla sent daggers my way from her eyes too.
“Shit,” I said once I turned a corner and found myself alone. “Shit, shit, shit.” I ran through the details of the email again, piece by piece. I’d been careful. She couldn’t know it was me, even if she suspected it was.
I was walking by the library, Sarah Vaughan’s “Black Coffee” streaming into my ears, when someone yanked on my arm pretty violently. I spun around and there she was. Layla.
“In,” Layla said through her teeth. And then she shoved open the door of the library. Reluctantly, I followed her.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” Layla said the second we were in what used to be “our” corner of the stacks. I didn’t say a word.
“I can’t b-believe this,” Layla said. “I told you not to t-t-tell anyone any of that!”
I crossed my arms and stared at her. I stayed quiet the same way she had when her new friends were torturing me.
She opened her mouth, but she got blocked. I just kept staring, waiting. I had nothing to say to her.
“Seriously, C-C-Cleo. That was so low. For you t-to send that around? I thought you were b-b-better than that.”
“And I thought you were my friend. But I guess we both thought wrong, huh?”
“You know, Sloane already knows you d-did it.”
I felt a little scared, but I didn’t let the fear show. My heart was pounding, but I laughed in her face.
“Prove it,” I whispered.
Layla squinted at me and turned, like she was about to leave. “So I’m guessing Sloane doesn’t know that you’re the one who told me,” I said.
She spun back around. “Keep your voice down,” she hissed.
I grinned. “That’s what I thought. If you don’t want her to find out, I suggest you don’t confirm anything. And tell all your bitchy friends to leave me the hell alone. If they don’t, I’ll send another one naming you as the source.”
Layla’s wide eyes grew even wider. “You wouldn’t,” she whispered. For one absurd moment, Layla looked like a Disney princess, with her silky hair and her eye makeup, her smooth skin and the shocked look on her face. She looked like she wasn’t real, which made it easier for me to stand my ground.
I took a step closer to her. “Try me,” I said through gritted teeth.
Layla really did leave then. And the second I couldn’t see her in the aisle anymore, I fell against the shelves and sank into a crouch. With my face in my hands, I cried, letting all the tension pour out of me like rain.
* * *
—
For the rest of the week, Layla brushed past me in the hallway, so close that our shoulders touched, like she wanted me to know she saw me and she was snubbing me on purpose. Sometimes none of the other Chorus Girls were even around, so I couldn’t tell myself her coldness was for their benefit—it was all just for me. But dealing with her passive nastiness was a small price to pay, because the rest of them had stopped their whispering. I could go to my locker and not worry about being accosted. I could use the bathroom without worrying about being locked inside. I could post a selfie and know that no one would call me hideous or freak in the comments. It was blissful. I went to class and settled back into my life mostly as it had been before…minus Layla. And it was, if not nice, at least better.
On Thursday, when I saw all of them clustered just outside homeroom, though, I got nervous. But as I approached, they didn’t turn to jeer or leer at me. It was like they didn’t see me at all, which was a significant improvement from my life pre-email, so I continued on my way.
As I passed, I couldn’t help but overhear what they were talking about. It was the last day of classes before winter break and they were all aflutter, excited about the musical’s premiere that night. In the midst of everything else that had been happening, I had totally forgotten about it.
I watched Layla closely, but she seemed fine—not the least bit nervous. I watched the way she turned as various girls called out, “L, did you figure out that note in the third song?” and “L, are you free to run lines at lunch?” and “L, your stage makeup at dress rehearsal was lit. Can you do mine tonight?” She nodded and said yes and pulled eyeliner from her bag and waved it in the air and I could tell that they all loved her. I despised them.
Then Sloane noticed me. She suddenly couldn’t stop saying my name. She hoped Cleo didn’t have the nerve to show her face tonight. She hoped Cleo at least had the decency to let Layla make her debut in peace. “You’re going to kill it, and you shouldn’t feel like you have anything to prove to anyone, especially her.”
THE MUSICAL
I hadn’t been planning to go to the musical. But Sloane’s words had been swirling through my head all afternoon, and when last bell rang I decided that I would. Because fuck Sloane. I’d let her dictate how I moved through this school for long enough.
And I was sick of Layla too. I wanted her to fail. She’d stood by for days while her new “friends” made my life hell and didn’t even have the decency to ask them to stop until I blackmailed her into it. The more I thought about it all, the angrier I got, and as time crept closer to curtain, the fierceness in my chest built into fire. By the time Jase and Mase showed up in the balcony, where I had gone to sit alone, I could barely sit still I was so mad, so ready for a fight.
They sat down on either side of me right before the lights dimmed, and when Mason’s elbow touched mine I said, “Watch it.”
“My bad,” Mason said. “Jeez.”
“Cleo Imani Baker,” Jase stage-whispered. “How the hell are ya?”
He wouldn’t want to know the honest answer to that question, so I took a deep breath trying to calm myself. They’re not the enemy, I repeated inside my head. I knew I had a right to be angry, but none of this was their fault.
“You cut it pretty close,” I whispered to them both. I nodded at Mason, apologizing for flipping out about his elbow, and he nodded back and immediately started texting. He had a small bundle of wildflowers tied with twine, and I knew they were for Layla. The sight of them made me feel petty and pissed all over again. I wanted to knock them off his lap and stomp them into the floor.
“Yo, that light is gonna be mad distracting for the actors,” Jase said to Mason.