By the next morning, everyone knows.The picture has spread faster than wildfire, and so has the narrative people have attached to it. Whispers trail after me in the school hallways, are passed between phones, and are reshaped and sharpened until they barely resemble the truth.“She’s using the babysitting job to get to him.”“Of course, she is. Have you seen his house? I’d trap him too, if I had access.”I continue down the hallway, my grip tightening around my bag with every step that I take. Several eyes follow me, from curious to amused to downright cruel, but I do my best to ignore them.“Hey,” a girl mutters as I pass, not even bothering to lower her voice, “is that her?”“Yeah,” her friend whispers back. “The babysitter.”They whip out their phones to openly record me, and I tell myself that I shouldn’t let it get to me. After all, Tyler and I know the real truth behind that picture. But who am I kidding? It still stings.By the time I reach my locker, my chest feels tight. I
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