Exam Memes Novels & Stories

“Mila, you’re a saint!” Then, he pulled out his phone. “Look at the group chat. It’s exploding!” The group name had been changed to ‘Care and Support of the Clown Werewolf King,’ and it was flooded with merciless mockery. Someone had photoshopped Sarek’s face with clown makeup and captioned it: [So I came after. I’m a homewrecker.] There were even meme videos titled, “The Werewolf King’s Breakup Survival Guide.” Louis laughed so hard his whole body shook. “Hahaha! That’s brutal!”

Her fingers trembled as she scrolled. “Bro she’s INSANE” “Ethan run 😭” “Psycho girlfriend energy” “She belongs in jail wtf” Elena clicked out of that post and the next one loaded so fast. A meme this time. Her face photoshopped onto the Hulk’s body, mid-rampage. Caption: “Elena when you forget to text back.” Then another. Her face on a tiger, roaring. “Don’t mess with Elena Cruz.” Then another. Her with exaggerated muscles and a unibrow. “Roid rage Elena.”

[What kind of trash bag are you, holding so much garbage?] [Peacocks flaunt their tails to attract mates. What's your excuse for parading your ass online?] [Patricia Harris, why don't you just die?] [Slut, you're probably wild in private, right? That video's gone viral.] [Heard you're diseased. Stay home! Don't infect us!] I stared at my phone screen, the barrage of insults washing over me. Doctored memorial photos and grotesque AI-generated images assaulted my eyes.

"Someone hotter and less grumpy for me to do this with?" Lily's response was blunt. "Arc's the ugly, deformed waiter you kissed at your father's gala after finding out about your ex's infidelity." Chelsea winced. "Thanks for the reminder." "You needed it," Lily said. "Kevin's stealing the spotlight, and even Larry's Italian charm is overshadowing your drama. Those memes aren't helping. Almost ten memes of you crying that night has surfaced, including one with a thundercloud hovering over your head." Chelsea's anxiety spiked. Being meme-ified meant you were either ridiculously silly or famously notorious. Chelsea knew he'd become a meme for both reasons.

There were another few dozen texts, all along the same lines and starting around the time I’d met Zane. Could they be from Scott? Maybe. They might also be from anyone else whose name began with “S,” or any other letter. You couldn’t tell anything from online names, except sometimes that someone had a sense of humor or when they put their ideology in their name, like KillAllHumans142. I went back to my main feed and found a photo of Jordan giving his brief speech, along with a few-dozen comments about his age and declaring him attractive. It seemed harmless. It was there, however, that I found a meme I greatly disliked. It showed my face on a white wolf’s body with wings. The wolf was also d

So I pulled out my phone again, this time scrolling through my saved folder labeled “EMERGENCY GIGGLES.” I found a meme I knew would work. A sketchy cartoon cat trying to play a grand piano with arms that were way too short. It was dumb. Like, impressively dumb. “Look at this,” I said, turning the screen toward him. He glanced at it. Blinked. Then let out a snort. “That’s so stupid,” he said. “But you smiled.” “No, I didn’t.” “You totally did.” He rolled his eyes, took a long sip of juice, then bumped his shoulder into mine. “Okay. Maybe I did.”

“Oh thank God, backup. Jackson, explain memes to your boyfriend. He doesn’t understand why anyone would care about a woman yelling at a cat.” “It’s not that I don’t care,” Frost protested. “I just don’t understand the context. Is this a human realm inside joke? Did something happen with this specific woman and cat?” I couldn’t help but laugh, dropping my bag by the door. “Frost, it’s just a meme. It doesn’t have to make sense. That’s kind of the point.” “But—” “Nope.” Maya held up a hand. “We’re moving on. Next meme.” She scrolled down, and Frost leaned in closer, his expression adorably perplexed.

Laugh. — You’ve earned it, Lucas whispers. Dad smiles, his gaze a bit blurry. — We’ll come bother you from time to time. Promise. The meal lingers on. The wine warms the hearts, but it’s mostly the tenderness between us that makes the hours beat. We reminisce about memories, childhood antics, Sundays by the lake, too-short summers, the tempers too, and everything we’ve repaired over time. Mom brings out a homemade pie. Dad tries to steal a spoonful of whipped cream from my plate.

Someone had even turned Dexter's frosting-covered face into memes. She soon received one from Clara. In the meme, only half of Dexter's handsome face was not covered in frosting. The text beside it read, "Dead inside." For the next three or four days, everyone around Angela couldn't send her a text without adding a few of those memes. Zack was the worst of all. He sent her dozens every day—half of them were ones he had made himself in his office when he had nothing better to do. Wasn't this a little over the top?

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