MY COCKY BASKETBALL PLAYER

Chapter 10

Monday morning. I walked into school like any other day.

That was my first mistake.

People were looking at me. Not in the usual way. Not the way they looked at me before. This was different. This was whispering. This was heads turning. This was phones angled in my direction.

I pulled my hood up and walked faster.

Gemma found me at my locker before first period.

"Did you hear what people are saying?"

I didn't look at her. I was trying to get my books. "No."

"Nora."

"What?"

"They think you and Derek are together."

I stopped. I turned around.

"What?"

"Someone saw you leaving his house last Saturday. They think you're dating."

I stared at her. "That's insane."

"I know."

"I'm his tutor. That's it."

"I know."

"So why would anyone think that?"

She gave me a look. "Because you're a girl. And he's Derek. And people love a story."

I closed my locker. "I don't have time for this."

I walked to class. People watched me the whole way.

***

By lunch, the whispers had spread.

I walked into the cafeteria and felt it. A thousand eyes. A thousand whispers. People nudging each other. People pointing. People filming.

I kept my head down. I got in line. I got my food. I didn't look at anyone.

I turned to find Gemma. She was at our table near the window. She waved me over.

I started walking.

Then I heard them.

Derek's table. Right in my path. Him and his friends. Maya sitting too close to him. All of them laughing.

"She's actually delusional," one of them said.

"Does she really think Derek would date someone like her?" another said.

I kept walking. I didn't look at them.

Then Maya stood up.

She stepped into my path. Blocking me.

I stopped.

She looked me up and down. Slow. Like I was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

"You nerd," she said. "You're nothing but a charity case."

The cafeteria went quiet. I could feel everyone watching.

"Do you really think my Derek would date a lowlife like you?"

My Derek. Like he belonged to her. Like he was something she owned.

I didn't answer.

Maya smiled. "That's what I thought."

Then she reached out. She grabbed my tray. She flipped it.

Food went everywhere. Pasta. Sauce. Water. All over me. All over my shirt. All over my books.

The cafeteria erupted. Laughter. Cheering. Someone yelled something I couldn't hear. Phones went up. People were filming. Everyone was filming.

I stood there. Pasta on my shirt. Sauce on my face. Water dripping from my hair.

I looked at Derek.

He was laughing. Not looking away. Not stopping it. Laughing with the rest of them.

Maya stepped back. "Oops," she said. "Did I do that?"

Her friends laughed.

I didn't move.

Gemma was already running over. "Nora. Nora, come on. Let's get you cleaned up."

I didn't move.

"Please," she said. "Please."

I let her lead me out. I didn't look at anyone. I didn't look at him.

The laughter followed me all the way to the bathroom door.

***

Gemma cleaned me up.

She wet paper towels. She dabbed at my shirt. She got the sauce off my face. She tried to fix my hair.

I just stood there.

"You okay?" she asked.

I didn't answer.

"Nora."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine."

"I'm fine."

She stopped. She looked at me.

"You don't have to be fine," she said.

I looked at her. I wanted to say something. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to walk out of that school and never come back.

Instead, I said, "I have class."

She didn't stop me.

***

The rest of the day was a blur.

People kept looking at me. Some laughed. Some whispered. Some watched me like I was a car crash they couldn't look away from.

I kept my head down. I went to class. I took notes. I didn't hear a word.

At the end of the day, I walked out the front doors. I didn't stop. I didn't look back.

I got home. The house was empty. I went to my room. I closed the door.

I sat on my bed. I stared at the wall.

Charity case.

That's what she called me. In front of everyone. And Derek just laughed.

I pulled out my phone. There were videos. Already. People had posted them. The tray flip. The laughter. Me standing there with pasta on my shirt.

I watched one. Then I watched another. Then I watched a third.

I didn't cry.

I was too angry.

***

I thought about quitting.

I thought about calling his mother. Telling her I was done. That her son was cruel. That I couldn't do it anymore. That I'd rather work double shifts at the café than spend one more Saturday in that house.

But then I thought about the jar. The money. The tuition. The future I was trying to build.

I couldn't quit.

I put my phone down. I lay back.

I hate him, I thought. I hate his laugh. I hate the way he watched. I hate that he didn't stop it. I hate that he didn't even care.

I hate him.

I said it again. And again. Until the words didn't feel like anything.