FINDING 12 | BOYS OF TOMMEN

Rumours

September 6th 2004.

Something was definitely up. Everywhere I went, people whispered and snickered behind my back, and it was impossible to ignore. It didn't matter if I was passing through the crowded hallway between classes, waiting in line at the canteen, or even just grabbing something from my locker. Every time I looked up, I'd catch someone shooting me a sideways glance, then quickly turning to their friend, leaning in to whisper something that would end in muffled laughter.

It started small, just a few glances here and there. But as the days went on, it felt like the whole school was in on some joke that I wasn't part of. Someone had even scribbled something across the bathroom mirror in black marker — something obscene about me. I scrubbed it off with a paper towel, hands shaking as I tried to erase the evidence of whatever rumors Connor was spreading.

As I walked through the hall one day, I heard a girl mutter to her friend, loud enough that I could hear, "Guess she's finally getting what she deserves, huh?" They burst into laughter as I passed by, my face burning as I tried to ignore them.Aoife, Eloise, and the others, tried to keep my spirits up, brushing it off as "typical Connor crap." But it didn't change the fact that my heart sank a little deeper every time someone snickered or whispered behind my back.

The worst part was, no one would tell me exactly what was being said. I'd ask, and people would just brush me off or give vague answers, like, "Oh, you know how Connor is," or "It's just stupid rumors." But it didn't feel stupid when everyone was looking at me like I was some spectacle.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Eloise pulled me aside one day after school. She gave me a long, sympathetic look before explaining what Connor had been saying. Apparently, he'd been going around telling people that I'd "used him" for attention, that I was "easy," and that I'd "gone after other guys" behind his back. He'd twisted everything that had happened between us, painting himself as the victim. And of course, people ate it up, ignoring the fact that he was the one who'd been abusive and manipulative, that he'd been the one who'd shown up drunk and pushed me around.

Hearing it all left me feeling sick. My chest felt tight, and I wanted to scream, to set the record straight. But I knew that even if I tried, people had already made up their minds. Connor was popular, part of the "in" crowd, and I was just... me.

That night, as I lay in bed, the weight of everything hit me. The unfairness, the frustration, and, worst of all, the helplessness. How could one person have so much power to twist everything?

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Enough was enough. I'd been patient, I'd tried to ignore it, and I'd let it slide for too long, hoping the rumors would just die down. But every time I walked through the halls, I could feel the weight of people's stares, the whispers that followed me, the laughter that seemed to linger just a little too long. And all of it—every bit—came back to one person: Connor.

I was fed up, and I was done letting him control the narrative.

It was after lunch, and I knew exactly where Connor would be: leaning against the lockers near the gym, surrounded by his friends, holding court like he was some kind of king. Sure enough, when I turned the corner, there he was, laughing with that smug, self-satisfied grin plastered across his face. He spotted me immediately, his expression barely changing, but I could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

The hallway grew quieter as I walked up to him, students sensing something was about to go down. Connor's friends looked at each other, and a few of them stepped back, leaving just the two of us standing there, surrounded by curious eyes.

"Got a minute, Connor?" I asked, keeping my voice steady, even though my heart was pounding.

He looked me up and down, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "For you? Always," he said, dripping with sarcasm.

I crossed my arms, meeting his gaze with as much composure as I could muster. "I want you to stop spreading lies about me. Whatever happened between us, it's over. But I'm done being your target."

Connor chuckled, loud enough for everyone to hear, leaning back casually against his locker. "Lies?" he repeated, mocking my words. "I don't know what you're talking about, Blair. Maybe you're just upset that people are finally seeing the real you."

I felt a surge of anger, but I forced myself to stay calm. "No, Connor. What people are seeing is the version of me that you're inventing. You know exactly what you're doing, twisting everything to make yourself look like the victim."

He shrugged, looking around at the crowd that was forming. "Maybe I am the victim, Blair. Ever think about that?" His voice took on a false tone of sincerity, just loud enough for everyone to hear. "I mean, everyone's got their side of the story. This is mine."

I could see some of his friends nodding, their expressions a mix of smugness and pity for him, as if they were all in on some big joke. I wanted to shout, to lay out every single thing he'd done, every cruel comment, every time he'd shown up drunk, every time he'd put me down,every time he'd used me.But I knew better. Connor was always two steps ahead, turning any hint of weakness from me into ammunition.

Instead, I leaned in, my voice low so only he could hear. "People might believe you now, but eventually, they're going to see the truth. And when they do, you're going to be the one with no one left to stand by you."

His smirk faltered for just a split second, and I knew I'd hit a nerve. But before he could say anything, I turned and walked away, my head held high, refusing to let him see how much he'd gotten to me.

As I walked down the hall, I could feel everyone's eyes on me. Some looked shocked, others amused, but a few had the decency to look ashamed, as if they'd finally realized that there might be more to the story than Connor's twisted version.