chapter twelve

145 9 1
                                    

No, no, no, no, no. Please let this be a dream. This can't be happening right now. I refuse to believe my ears.  I refuse to believe this. Paranoia simmers through me with every increasing stare, until pangs of scopophobia start slashing through, making me lightheaded. My terror grows into a tangible, living force that creeps over me like a famished beast, immobilizing me, holding me captive.

"Nicolas, is this true?" Marvin shoots me a disgusted look. And here I was, thinking we were friends. My brain freezes. So does my breathing. So does my mouth. Help. Please someone help. I frantically search for someone to magically come to my rescue, but no one does. Cold glares are all I see. Cold, icy death stares. I'm paralyzed. Stuck in place. Not physically, but emotionally. Like someone decided to superglue my heart to the floor. A few seconds pass by, way too slowly, as if the world decided that now would be the perfect time to play out in slow motion.

I'm being watched... by the whole school. And even if my mouth could unfreeze, whatever I'd say would be judged. And if I don't say anything, I'll still be judged. So, I do the only thing left. I do the only thing I can do. I run. To the only place where people will leave me alone. My dorm. I slam my door with all my might and shove whatever pieces of furniture I have against it. This is one of the times where a lock would be extremely helpful, but the stupid school regulations decided that privacy was not a must.

My phone has begun vibrating non-stop, so I shut it down and hurl it against the rough carpet. A loud thump releases from the impact, but I don't even care. If my phone breaks, so be it. I'll just buy another one. But if my reputation gets fractured, that's something that can't be replaced, nor repaired. I don't know what to do. I truly don't know how I can live this down. I'll be the laughing stock of the century, and I already know that the journalists are dying to draw their own conclusions and squeeze all the juice out of this. 

I curl myself into a tight little ball and wish to disappear. If only I could be erased from this universe. I can't help but worry about how my mother is going to react to this situation. She'll be so demoralized. I know it. Her only remaining son, and it turns out he's nothing but normal. Nothing like his mother. I am the epitome of a disappointment, a complete disgrace to the hierarchy. My life is in shambles, and the broken pieces are scattered too far apart for me to fix. The thought that I was born in the wrong body has occurred to me several times, yet this is the first time I really believe that to be true. If I were any random person, then people wouldn't look twice at me. But this is my luck, and I can't change who I am.

When I finally turn on my phone, I am swept by a trillion text messages. My eyes narrow when I come across my mother's message, saying that she's coming up here right now. Oh god. I'm not at all ready for this conversation. I will never be ready, but I know there's no avoiding her. If people thought I was stubborn, then she is ten times worse. I inherited it from her after all. 

The only other message that I bother opening is from Cyrus. I feel so bad that you have to deal with this. Look! I click on the link he attached, which directs me to the Bayscoop, the school's gossip column. Bayshore is notorious for spreading ruthless rumors of unsuspecting students. I can't think of any good reason for this to be existing in the first place, although everyone always seems to be flocking towards it, tempted by the juicy gossip. Knowledge is power, and information is key. So, when I see my face blasted in the front headlines, it confirms that the entire school knows. Worst of all, the video is there too, and you can clearly see that it's me and Sander. 

Three knocks, and the blood circulating through my body stiffens. Three knocks, and my palms begin sweating. Three knocks, and my leg trembles with restlessness. Three knocks are all it takes for my anxiety to come flooding back, except this time the wave of nerves has grown into a huge, unstoppable tsunami. Reluctantly, I push aside the furniture blocking the door to let my mother in.

Royal Ever AfterWhere stories live. Discover now