The Badboy Delirium

digital aftershock

I didn't sleep.

not even for a second,

I spent the entire night tossing and turning like an undercooked piece of meat on a grill. I watched the pink neon light in my room fade into a sickly hue as the sun crawled up the sky. It was a cold, grey reminder that I couldn’t hide in my bed forever. My phone was still lying face down on the rug where I’d thrown it hours ago. Even from across the room, it felt like a live grenade. It vibrated occasionally with the force of another notification or another digital stone thrown at my glass house.

I don't want to go to school. I wanted to crawl under my mattress and wait for the world to forget I ever existed.

But life isn't that easy, and most importantly, I don't want my parents to put me in some wellness centre for depressed teens. Plus, I know the rules of high school. If I stay home, it would look like a confession. It would look like I was as guilty as the forums said I was.

These social parasites would make a meal out of me. Sighing, I stand up and walk towards my phone on the floor and yank, its better to read the hate mail now, right?

“Maya is such a controlling girlfriend. You can see it from a mile away,” one comment had read, garnering hundreds of likes.

Pfft! Controlling girlfriend, my ass! I never even asked him to stop picking his nose, and let me tell you, that was something that gave me the ick daily. If I were truly controlling, I would have managed his hygiene before I managed his social life.

But facts didn't matter in the court of public opinion.

So now I’m at school.

I stand at the end of the long hallway, clutching the straps of my bag so hard my knuckles are turning white. My eyes are locked on Caleb. He’s at his locker, looking perfectly relaxed. Jade and Colan surround him from the basketball team, the usual group of people who treated our relationship like a spectator sport.

He looks perfectly fine compared to me. You wouldn’t even think he’s going through a breakup. It makes me wonder if he has any pity for me at all. The sound of their laughter hits me like a physical blow. It is so casual and effortless, as if my reputation wasn't being torn into confetti on social media at this very second.

Clearly, we are in different worlds. He is in the sun while I am in the storm. But I want answers because he didn’t give me a real reason. He just gave me a death sentence and walked away.

I take a step forward. My legs feel heavy and clumsy, like they belong to someone else. Every person I pass nudges the person next to them. The whispers are like static, a constant hum of

“there she is,” and

“can you believe it?”

and the inevitable

“poor Caleb.”

Poor Caleb? My heart does a bitter somersault. As I get closer, Jade catches my eye and sneers, leaning over to whisper something into Colan’s ear. They are acting like absolute bitches,I should probably buy them thongs after this. the anger starts to bubble up, momentarily pushing back my sadness.

Caleb doesn't even look at me. He just continues his story, his hands gesturing wildly as he describes some defensive play from last night's practice. He is acting like I’m a ghost. He acts as if I’m not even worth the breath it would take to acknowledge my existence.

"Caleb?" My voice is a thin thread, barely audible over the noise of the hallway.

He stops talking. The silence from his group is deafening, spreading outward like a ripple in a pond. Slowly, he turns his head, but his eyes aren't the eyes of the boy I loved. They aren't the eyes that looked at me with tenderness during movie nights.

They are cold and empty.

"What do you want, Maya?" he asks. He doesn't whisper. He speaks loud enough for everyone nearby to stop and stare.

"I... we need to talk. Last night, you can't be serious—"

"I'm very serious," he cuts me off.

His face wrinkles in a mask of performative hurt. He makes it look like I am the one who broke up with him. He leans in closer, just so I can hear the venom beneath his "nice guy" exterior.

“Please, Maya. Just let this go.”

Before I can respond to the lie, the crowd parts. Tiffany walks up, wearing our uniform like it was tailored specifically for her. Her black hair is tied back into a sleek bun, and her brown eyes look like a desert storm. She doesn't say a word to Caleb. She just grabs me by the arm and drags me away from the locker, away from.

“Why the hell would you do that?” She asks once we are out of earshot.

We are marching down the hall, and the whispers don't stop. They follow us like a shadow.

“Don’t you have any self-respect, May?”

She pulls me into an empty classroom and slams the door shut. The silence of the room is startling. I feel numb. I can’t fully comprehend the speed of my fall. Just last week, everyone was so eager to be my friend, and now I’m a witch.

Tiff looks at me, and her expression softens. She pulls me into her arms, and the "Mean Girl" mask I’ve been trying to wear finally cracks.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers, holding me tighter.

Before I can stop them, the tears run down my face. They are hot and stinging. The pain is finally kicking in, a deep ache that makes my knees weak.

“The world can be so cruel, but I’m just happy I have you,” I sob into the nape of her neck.

She gently rubs my back, and relief washes over me. I feel so blessed to have a friend like Tiff. Even if the whole school turns against me, I know I’m not alone.