"Bye guys! Have a good ride home!" I called, picking up my backpack and tossing it over my shoulder.
I looked around the auditorium at all of my teammates stopping what they were doing to wave goodbye to me. At least, almost all of them. My ex glared at me from a few rows up.
You'd think that, despite my attempts at cutting them from my life, the two of us would have finally stopped fighting so much, but just that morning, we'd somehow ended up in yet another screaming match over some stupid thing that they clearly weren't over. It was so unimportant that I'd already forgotten about it and I turned towards the exit, ignoring their dirty looks.
My mom stood waiting for me near the door. As I came close, she reached out and took my uniform bag, embroidered with the words "West Shore Color Guard," from my hand.
"You did great tonight," she told me with a proud smile, as we headed down the hallway. "Those were some really good guards you competed against."
"Thanks!" I replied.
A cold gust of air whooshed by as we headed outside into the dark February night.
Parked on the opposite end of the school's parking lot was our white minivan. I rushed towards it and jumped inside, sinking into the warm seats. My dad was sitting up front in the driver's seat.
"Hey Lizzie, good job!" He turned around and smiled at me as the automatic door slid shut.
"Thank you!"
I buckled my seatbelt and pulled a fuzzy blanket from my backpack as my dad continued talking.
"How come you didn't wanna take the bus home?"
"I don't know," I shrugged. "I just didn't feel like it and it's faster if I ride with you anyway."
"Alright," my dad said, putting the car in drive.
As we headed home, I glanced at my phone for a moment to see that it was at 1%. "No big deal. I'll charge it at home," I thought to myself, reclining my seat and closing my eyes. I fell asleep to the quiet rumble of the engine as we sped down the turnpike.
——
A white Apple logo flashed on my phone's dark screen and I yawned, placing it on my bedside table. While I waited for it to turn back on, I let my hair down and started brushing my hair which was cemented to my scalp, in true color guard fashion, with an unhealthy amount of hairspray.
As my lock screen, a picture of my dogs on a pool floaty, appeared, I leaned over to see all the notifications that I'd missed. One iMessage text caught my eye and I threw the hairbrush on my bed, grabbing my phone and reading the words in horror.
An hour ago, S had asked, "Did you slap W on Thursday?"
My heart skipped a beat and I thought back to every interaction I'd had with my ex that day.
We'd been fighting, as usual, but I told them to leave me alone. I hadn't said or done anything else to them. Why would I slap them?
With shaky hands, I quickly texted back "What? No!"
"I didn't think so. They were telling people on the bus that you did."
"Why would I do that? Why would they say that? What do I do?"
"I'm going to practice early on Monday. I have to talk to A about some stuff anyway. Come with me, and we'll tell her about this."
"Ok," I replied and turned my phone off.
Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I put my head in my hands.
What kind of a person tells a lie like that?
YOU ARE READING
Look What You Made Me Do
Non-Fiction"Don't tell anybody about this." "If you just ignore it, it'll stop." "There's nothing I can do to help you." And so I did everything I was told. I shut up. I put on a brave face. I followed all the rules. But that was the past and it's not who I am...
