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My mother calls from the kitchen, “Adele, get in the shower!

I zombie-walk to the bathroom to get ready for school.

With my towel wrapped around me, I stare into my closet. It’s full of clothes, but I’ve never worn most of them. I reach up, ruffle the tags, and shake my head. I grab my usual jeans and T-shirt. My bed squeaks underneath my weight as I sprawl across it. This routine of sucking my gut in so my zipper goes
up starts my days with heaping servings of self-loathing. Every morning begins with a: “Good morning, Adele, you beast.”

I check my phone for new texts from Cara. Nothing. I do a few twists and turns in the mirror and cringe.

Meggie’s voice makes me jump. “Dehwy? Get out?”

I smile. I really don’t want to smile, but I can’t help it. She is too cute. I walk over to my sister’s crib. “Good morning, Meggie-bideggie.” Her curly brown hair is adorable. It’s bouncy and shiny and compliments her big brown eyes.

Meggie throws her arms out, and I pick her up. My little sister and her blanket come out of the crib as one unit, as usual.

“You love your blankie, don’t you, Megs?” She nods. “Okay, I gotta go, girl. Come on.” Meggie nuzzles her warm head into my neck. She wraps her little arms and legs around me. I rub my lips on her baby-soft hair and breathe her in as I carry her into the kitchen. When I go to put her into her high chair, she clings tighter. I hug her back and whisper, “Love you too.”

“Again, Adele?” my mother barks, looking me up and down. “Are you wearing the same jeans? My God, your grandmother spent hundreds of dollars on clothes for you, and you wear a grubby
Simpsons
T-shirt?”

I am in no mood to argue with her. I don’t have the energy. “Happy Monday morning to you, Mother.” I stare at her. She used to look good in the morning. Fresh and smiley. She can’t
seem to muster up pretty—or happy, for that matter. She only looks dull or really dull.

“You have a closet full of clothes I’ve never seen you wear! I don’t get you.”

I mumble under my breath, “Yeah, I know.”

“What? Stop talking with marbles in your mouth.”

I sit at the table and push my sliced strawberries through my cottage cheese. I know my mother is watching, so I rearrange the fruit without eating.

“I’m trying to help you, Adele,” my mother says. God, she looks wiped out. She must not have slept again last night.

“Stop trying,” is all I can say.

•  •  •

The walk to school is an ugly, ugly walk. My thoughts are so heavy, I don’t know how my feet aren’t sunk into the sidewalk. A few times I stop and lean against a tree, just to calm down. What if everyone knows what Brandon did to me? That he thought it was some kind of a joke?

I see Cara up ahead at our usual spot out front, but she’s standing with Emma and Melissa. I’m out of breath and sweaty when I reach them. “H-hey.” Cara and Emma share a series of quick looks and an outbreak of laughter. This behavior cements what I already suspect: Cara was out with them yesterday and chose to ignore my texts.

“Dell, did you see us dancing at the party?” Cara asks with an over-the-top smile. I’ve seen that smile before. In fact, I know it well. It’s the same fake smile we practiced in eighth grade, imitating the popular girls—namely, Taryn—to make ourselves laugh. I break eye contact with her mouth and study the rest of her face for signs that she’s joking. I don’t know, I think she’s trying to impress Emma and Melissa.

I nod in response to Cara’s question, so I don’t sound all breathy, and sit down on the wall. I’d like to ask Cara a million things, but questioning her about why she didn’t call me yesterday would make me look like a fool, like a pesky, needy dweeb.
Where were you, Cara? Do you still like me, Cara? Are you still my best friend, Cara? Why did it take you so long to text me back, Cara?

I play it cool, put my earbuds in, and pretend I’m listening to music. I watch Cara and the other two girls. They’re just so pretty, all three of them. Me? I look like I just ate three pretty girls for breakfast.

Buses drop off hordes of kids, and everyone congregates on the front walkway and grass. I spy Chase and Jacob the table-lifter and watch them playfully shove their way to the hill. If they’re here that means Brandon can’t be too far behind. I slump down in my best retreating-turtle imitation and wish myself invisible. I know I’ll have to see him eventually, but the
thought of interacting with him right now cracks my heart straight down the middle and just might kill me. Then everyone would have to step over my dead body on their way into school.

Cara turns to Emma. “Oh my God, Em, my legs are killing me.”

Em? She’s calling her Em?

Emma and Melissa squeal back at the same time, “Me toooooooo!”

Melissa stares at me for a second, then pulls Cara and Emma in toward her. “She can’t hear us, right?”

I move my head to the imaginary music. Cara and Emma both turn to look over at me. Even if I actually
were
listening to blaring music, I would’ve been able to tell they were about to talk about me or say something they didn’t want me to hear. Heat surges to my face.

“Like Taryn said before, Dell is too big to run anywhere. It would be so embarrassing if anyone saw us with her. You know?” Melissa snickers. “So let’s run that same trail next Sunday,” she says. “Maybe we can get Taryn to come too.” Cara and Emma nod.

Cara isn’t coming to my defense. Her nod, agreeing with what Melissa just said about me, burns and chars my heart. It’s a pile of black dust.

And shit, they
were
together. They were off having fun while I stuffed my face with toddler snacks, reliving what happened on the daisy quilt.

Taryn and Sydney stroll over. With each step they take, I silently plead:
Please don’t let Taryn know about what happened with Brandon.
They glance at me for a second before joining the other girls and turning their backs to me. I don’t think they realize I was technically “with” Cara, Emma, and Melissa.

“Show them,” Taryn demands. Sydney pulls her hair back to reveal a whopping hickey. The five girls exchange grins. I play with my phone.

“Slut,” Taryn says. Everyone laughs. “While I’m stuck talking to my fat cousin all night, she was having her neck sucked by Chase, and you guys were having fun dancing without me. Brandon said the party sucked because he missed me so much.”

There’s a chorus of “awwwws.”

I drop my chin to my chest. Brandon is a lying prick. I rock back and forth, pretending to jam out, but in reality I’m pretty close to
passing
out. The motion is helping me stay upright.

Taryn clearly has something else to say from the smirk on her face. She smoothes her hair as they all lean in. “Brandon told me he loved me last night.”

My leg jerks and kicks over my backpack, spilling the contents of the front pocket. Pencils roll all over the sidewalk. “Shit.” I yank my earbuds out.

As if their heads are pulled by an invisible puppet string, the girls all turn to look at me in unison.

“Are you eavesdropping on us, Dell?” Taryn asks. “Because if you are, that’s, like, middle-school shit.”

I ignore her and retrieve my pencils. Some have rolled into the street, and I leave them.

The warning bell rings. Taryn, Melissa, Emma, and Sydney lock arms. Emma holds an arm out for Cara. For a split second I think Cara is going to follow them down the yellow brick road, but she doesn’t. “I’ll see you guys in there. I have to talk to her.”

The girls stay linked as they make their way up the stairs, and they don’t break apart when they reach the door. Taryn opens it, and they follow her in single file, still connected. Cara hasn’t taken her eyes from them, and she chuckles at their theatrics.

She turns to look at me. It’s just the two of us now. She squints. “Dell, where did you disappear to at the party?”

“NOWHERE,” I SAY.

Cara stares suspiciously and crosses her arms. “Dell, Sydney said she saw you go upstairs with Brandon. Is that true?”

Shit. Sydney saw me with Brandon, which means Taryn will find out, because they all tell her everything. Which means everyone will suspect something happened between Brandon and me. If they think we hooked up, I’ll be public enemy number one.

I say, with as much nonchalance as I can muster, “He wanted to show me some stupid video on YouTube. It was no big deal.” I pinch my eyebrows together. I can’t believe the words “no big deal” just exited my mouth.

“Yeah, well, if Taryn finds out that you were alone with her boyfriend, we’ll never get invited to another party. As in never ever. You shouldn’t have gone upstairs with him, Dell.”

Her tone is so harsh. If she’s freaking out about me going upstairs to watch a video with Brandon, she would go ape-shit if she knew we had sex. I can’t tell her. She would definitely leave me in the dust.

“You are going to ruin everything.” She finishes with a long, breathy exhale.

I look away and whisper, “Sorry.”

More dramatic air exits her nose. “You should be.”

We part ways and head to our lockers.

Brandon and Taryn are at the end of the hallway. He has her skinny little body pinned up against the lockers and is kissing her neck. He turns his head, sees me, and pauses—midkiss—and stares.

His look speaks volumes:
Keep your mouth shut, fat girl.

If I had an ax, I’d love to hold him down and chop his nuts off. Or if I had the guts, give him the finger. But I busy myself in my locker. By the time I slam it shut, they’re long gone. I’ve broken out in a cold sweat. My T-shirt clings to my stomach and back. A single bead of panic rolls down my spine, tickling my skin like a spider. I shiver as I round the corner.

If I tell anyone about the rape, I risk major backlash. People won’t believe that Brandon raped me. I know it.

I take my seat in English, and Sydney sits right behind me. “Hey, Dell, fun party, right?”

I don’t want to make eye contact with her, so I stay facing forward. “Sure. Yeah.” Sydney taps my shoulder. I grit my teeth and turn around.

“Why did you go upstairs with Brandon?”

I can feel my face go red. “To watch a video.”

“Uh-huh. Right.” She gives me a sly grin.

“What are you trying to say?” I ask her.

She leans in and whispers, “You were gone for, like, a half hour. And Brandon seemed . . . ” Her voice trails off.

“Seemed what?”

“Um, well, he seemed pretty sweaty when he came back down.”

I roll my eyes to act all casual and whatever-ish, but my insides are on fire. Like, I may burn to the ground. I’m about to babble some excuse, paint some phony picture for her, but I don’t. If this shit goes viral, then it’s all over anyway. I might as well move to another planet, because no sumo-wrestler impersonation or self-deprecating joke will save me from the onslaught.

They will eat me alive. And what a feast I’d be. I’d feed everyone.

Sydney continues in a hushed tone, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Taryn. She wants to dump him anyway. She’s got the hots for Jacob Unger.” Her hand flies up to cover her mouth. “Shit, Dell. Don’t tell her I told you that.”

Sydney is the Fort Knox of secret-keepers.

Jacob? The table-lifter? He’s a dick. He and Taryn
would
make the ideal couple.

My teacher, Mrs. Salvatore, starts class, and I am relieved of having to look at Sydney’s stupid face.

I fluff my way through the rest of the day, which is unlike me. I usually raise my hand, participate, answer questions. Not today. I spend my time worrying that Sydney will start an avalanche of rumors by sharing what she thinks went on upstairs at the party. If she knew the truth—that I was raped by a guy who gets a kick out of making me moo like a cow—her head might burst.

Other than Sydney, no one else says anything about the party. I pray Sydney will keep her mouth shut like she said she would. Somewhere during the afternoon, my thoughts turn angry. I can’t believe
I’m
feeling nervous and ashamed. I didn’t do anything wrong.

The cherry on top of my fuming-mad sundae? After my last class, two of my old teammates walk by me, like, two feet away, and don’t even say hi. I actually snort. I don’t care. I
never liked any of them. I don’t miss them. They can all go directly to hell.

I stand at my open locker, put my earbuds in, and blast music for real this time. I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s Cara. She always meets me at my locker after the last bell, but it surprises me after the way she acted this morning. I don’t take my earbuds out, and I just stare at her. I’m still in a crap mood. I can’t take another accusatory line of questioning. I might crack and tell her the truth.

Without saying a word, she links her arm in mine and leads me down the hall. Maybe this is her way of apologizing. I feel my feet moving, and I know I am walking, but I’m not paying attention to where we’re going. I keep my gaze glued to the floor because I do not want to see Brandon. Cara stops, yanks an earbud out of my ear, and says, “Well?”