My Arch Nemesis in my Bed
Technically, we did.
"It's fine," I say instead, pulling out my notebook with shaking hands. "I don't care."
But I do care. I care very much.
By third period, the whispers have evolved into full-blown conversations that halt abruptly when I walk by. Someone's made a meme of my slap, with the caption "FINISH HIM" in Mortal Kombat font. Another edited my poolside photo onto the cover of Sports Illustrated.
I keep my chin up, my sunglasses on, ignoring the looks and the not-so-subtle pointing.
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