How bad could it be

I sat flat on the concrete floor with my knees pulled up tight to my chest, staring blindly at my ruined shoes. I felt totally hollow, like someone had scooped out everything inside me and left just an empty shell.

Then, my phone broke the silence.

It didn't ring with a normal, boring tone. Instead, the deep rich baritone of Burna Boy’s How Bad Could It Be thumped loudly out of my tote bag, bouncing off the tiled walls with way too much swagger for someone who looked like a walking garbage dump.

“When it's raining, you wish the sun was shining, when the sun shines, you wish the rain was falling, you’re always searching, never seem to find it..…”

Burna’s smooth voice filled the tiny space.The one I played when I needed to feel like I could take on the world. Hearing it right now, dripping in paint and eggshells, was so stupid and funny that a weird little bubble of a laugh pushed past my lips.

How bad could it be?

Oh, Burna. If you could see me right now, you would know the answer is: worse than anything you can even imagine.

Still, the music helped. It stopped my chest from hurting quite so much. I reached out with a sticky hand, grabbed the phone, and looked at the screen.

Isabella.

My best friend. The only person in this rich, snobby school who actually liked me for me and not because of my dad's money.

I swiped the screen and put the phone to my ear.

"Jess?" Isabella yelled right into the speaker. She sounded super pissed off. "Where the hell are you?! Aaron has been out on the field warming up for ten minutes, and the whole student section is looking all over for you like you vanished into thin air! What are you even doing?"

"I'm in the locker room," I whispered. My voice sounded weak and shaky.

"The locker room?" Isabella shouted back, her tone switching from mad to super suspicious. "Why are you in there? Did Aaron drag you inside? Because if that jerk thinks he can…..”

"Isa, just get over here. Now."

"Jess, you sound weird. Are you okay? Did he do something to….."

"Just open the door, Isabella."

Before she could ask anything else, I hung up the phone.

I sat there and waited, listening to the faint sound of the stadium crowd cheering through the walls. The big game was about to start, and thousands of people were screaming for a guy who had just used me and left me in the dirt according to Emilian. 

Click.

The locker room door swung open. A bright strip of hallway light cut across the dark floor.

Footsteps rushed inside.

"Jess? What is taking you so…."

Isabella stopped dead in her tracks.

The words cut odf right in her throat. She froze near the benches, her eyes going wide as saucers, her mouth hanging open. She stared right at me,really stared at me,taking in the bright pink paint dripping from my hair, the crusty eggshells stuck to my strands, the slimy yellow yolks smeared all over my shirt, and the ruined skirt.

For three whole seconds, the room was totally, completely silent.

Then Isabella made a sound,a  raw, angry noise, like an animal ready to attack.

"Who," she whispered, her voice shaking so hard it sounded scary, "did this to you?"

I let out a weak, dry breath.

"It is not funny, Jessica!" Isabella screamed, the volume exploding off the walls as she ran across the room and dropped to her knees right in front of me. Her hands hovered over my shoulders, shaking because she didn't even want to touch the mess. "Look at you! You're covered in... what is that? Is that paint? Are those eggs? Oh my god, Jess, who did this to you? Tell me their name right now. I swear to god, I am going to murder them. I'm going to rip their hair out and ruin their life!"

"Calm down, Isa," I muttered, staring down at my sticky fingers.

"Calm down?!" Isabella yelled, tears of pure anger jumping into her own eyes. "You look like a crime scene! Who did this? Was it Roonie? Was it one of those football creeps? Tell me right now!"

"Make a wild guess," I said, giving her a bitter little smile.

Isabella stopped pacing. Her chest moved up and down as she stared at my face. She looked at the paint, at the eggshells, and at the cold look in my eyes. Her brain started working. In this school, there was only one person mean enough, petty enough, and crazy enough to pull a stunt like this.

Isabella's eyes flashed with pure hate.

"Emilian," she breathed, the name sounding like poison.

"Bingo," I whispered.

"That psycho bitch!" Isabella shrieked, jumping straight to her feet and marching toward the door like she was going to charge onto the football field and start a riot. "I am going to find her. I am going to drag her by her hair across the whole campus and make her eat those eggshells! Where is she? Out there cheering for her boyfriend like she owns the world? I am going to—"

"Isa! Stop!"

I pushed myself up from the floor. My skin stung as the dried paint pulled tight against me, but I forced myself to stand tall.

Isabella whipped around, tears spilling over her lashes. "How can you tell me to stop?! She humiliated you! She tried to break you!"

"And if you run out there looking like you want to kill someone, what do you think she wins?" I fired back, my voice getting hard. "She wins everything, Isa. She wants a big scene. She wants the whole school to see me looking like trash so she can prove she's better than me."

And at that moment, I was angry at myself for that cringy thought……prove she's better than me? 

Isabella stopped. She took a long, shaky breath, fighting the crazy anger in her eyes. Slowly, the wild look turned into something cold and smart.

"You're right," Isabella hissed, stepping back toward me. "She wants everyone to laugh at you. But we are not giving her that. We are going to clean you up. We are going to make you look ten times better than before she touched you. And then? We get even."

A cold thrill went down my spine.

"First things first," Isabella said, rolling up her sleeves and looking at my ruined clothes with disgust. "We need to get this toxic waste off your body. Come on. There is a shower in the back. Bring your bag. We have work to do."

She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the small, dingy shower stall at the back of the locker room.

When Isabella turned the handle, hot water blasted out of the showerhead, turning into a thick cloud of steam.

"Strip," she ordered, reaching for the buttons of my ruined shirt.

I didn't wait. I peeled off the sticky, egg-drenched clothes and let them drop into a pathetic pink pile on the floor. Stepping under the hot water felt like a shock to my system. The heat hit my skin, melting the crusty egg whites and washing the thick pink paint down the drain in a bright, swirling colored mess.

I stood there with my eyes closed, letting the water clean my skin, while Isabella stood right outside the glass door, tossing a fresh change of clothes,an oversized black hoodie and clean leggings,onto the bench.

"You know," Isabella’s voice came through the rushing water, sounding sharp and serious, "this changes things with Aaron, too."

My eyes snapped open. I looked through the steamy glass at her shadow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you were trying to play it cool. You were acting like he was just a temporary problem you could survive until graduation," Isabella said, leaning against the door frame. "But he brought you into his world today. He dragged you into this locker room, he showed you off to the whole school, and because of his game, Emilian made you her target. If Aaron thinks he can use you for a quick thrill and then let his crazy girlfriend treat you like trash, he's out of his mind."

Her words hit a raw nerve.

She was right. I had spent all morning trying to convince myself that I was safe,that as long as I kept my walls up, Aaron’s games couldn't touch my real feelings. But standing here, washed clean of the physical mess, I knew the terrifying truth. I wasn't just a girl caught in a bad deal anymore. I was tangled up in a dangerous game of power and obsession that was pulling me under.

And the worst part? A dark, stupid part of my heart didn't even want to escape.

“Let him build his little game. Because by the time we are done dealing with Emilian, Aaron is going to realize the girl he tried to trap isn't a toy. She's the one holding the match."

I pushed the glass door open, stepped out of the stall, and wrapped a thick towel around my wet hair. I pulled on the big black hoodie, letting the soft fabric swallow me. It made me feel strong again.

Outside the heavy metal doors, the muffled roar of the stadium crowd suddenly shifted. A massive wave of cheers, horns, and screaming fans shook the concrete walls.

The game was over.

The final buzzer had sounded. And out there on the field, surrounded by cheering fans, the school's golden boy was probably looking around for his prize.

I looked at Isabella’s fierce, angry eyes in the mirror. The pink paint was gone. The eggs were washed away. The ice queen was back,and this time, the ice was sharp enough to cut.

"Come on," I said, a slow, dangerous smile touching my lips. "Let's go see our captain."