The fishbowl got smaller over the next few days.
Some people heard that Lauren and I were in the locker room having sex.
Others believed that I'd invited her in an effort to seduce her. A few thought that a she'd come in to threaten me after the episode with Madoc.
Whatever story people latched onto, I was receiving more stares and hearing more whispers behind my back.
"Hey, Camila. Do you just screw in the locker room or mess around as well?" Hannah Forrest, queen bee of the mean girls, shouted to my back while I walked to Calculus. Her drones laughed with her.
I spun around to face them and held my hand to my heart. "And steal all of your business?" I took the time to enjoy their dumbstruck looks before I twisted on my heel and headed to class.
As I disappeared around the corner, the echo of expletives from her and her crew brought a smile to my face. I'd been called a bitch before, and it didn't hurt the way being called a slut did. Being a bitch could be a survival technique. They get respect. There was no honor in people thinking you were a slut.
Lauren must not have received much of a punishment since she was at school every day. She didn't look at me or otherwise acknowledge me even though we shared a class together. I had transferred out of a Computer class in the afternoons, having already exceeded the senior syllabus in France, and transferred into Themes in Film and Literature without knowing he was in that class, too. The elective was supposed to be a cruise course, lots of movies and reading.
"Camila, do you have an extra pen I could borrow?" Ben Jamison asked when we sat down in Themes. He, thankfully, had continued to be friendly and respectful in French, despite the current talk, and I was relieved with the distraction from Jared in this class.
"Um . . ." I reached in my messenger bag, searching. "I think so. Here we
go." Ben awarded me with a brilliant smile that accentuated his dark blonde hair and green eyes. Our fingers touched, and I pulled away quickly, dropping the pen before he'd grasped it.
I don't know why I'd pulled away, but I felt Lauren's eyes wash over the back of my head.
"No, I got it." He stopped me as I bent over to grab it. "Don't let me walk off with it at the end of class, though."
"Keep it." I waved my hand in the air. "I'm stocked. I mostly use pencils, anyway. With all of my Science and Math classes, it's a necessity. Especially with me. . . .lots of erasing." I was trying at humility, but it came out as verbal diarrhea instead.
"Oh yeah, that's right. I forgot you were into that stuff." He probably didn't forget. He almost certainly had no idea. My nostrils flared with the reminder of all of the damage Lauren had done. She was the reason more boys hadn't taken an interest in me.
"I'm trying to get into Columbia, pre-med. What about you?" I inquired. I hoped I didn't sound like I was bragging, but I didn't feel self-conscious with Ben. His family owned a newspaper, and his grandfather was a judge. He'd probably be applying to Ivy League schools, too.
"I'm applying to a few places. I have no head for Math or Science, though. It'll be Business for me."
"Well, I hope you like some Math. Business goes with Economics, you know?" I pointed out. His eyes widened, and I realized he didn't know.
"Uh, yeah." He looked confused, but recovered quickly. "Absolutely. As long as it's not too much." He smiled nervously as I registered a snicker coming from behind me.
"So . . ." I tried to change the subject, "you're on the Homecoming Committee, right?"
"Yeah. You coming?" Ben looked excited.
"We'll see. Have you booked a band, or is there a D.J.?" Band. Band. Band. "A band would be nice, but they tend to play one genre of music, so it's hard to please everyone. We'll have a D.J. I think that's what everyone decided.
