The Wallflower and the Prankster

Chapter Thirty-One: a Reason to Love

Alazne

 

“You did what?” I asked for the fifth time that minute, staring at the computer monitor.  It was one a Youtube Video—my sister, Kathryn’s video, or rather a Vlog. It was titled:  Screwed-Over Girl’s Revenge.

My sister, Kathryn woke me up in the morning to the sound of her morning workout routine, and then called me over to her old room (now the guest room) and sat me down by the computer—to show me this?

“I posted a video, duh, but that’s not the point. It features you, my adorable little sister,” she boasted, and leaned towards the computer screen, her arm stretched to get a grip of the mouse. She pressed the play button. “Now watch.”

  The video started with Kathryn in a car, panning onto the street then onto Travis, who was driving. They exchanged a couple words, and explained that they were visiting family with some important news. It skipped ahead to some talking in the park, and then jumped to the moment in the couch. The scene changed and it was in her room, she explained what happened, and then went to the court where….Joshua Grey runs off.

It pans out to her worried face, and then she did another run through on what happened, followed by moments with Travis and then into the dinner moment—there she takes a break, pausing at mom’s face, then continues to talk in her room. “And this is for the guy who screwed my sister over,” she gave the camera the finger, and then said, “but that’s not all. That screwed-over girl isn’t going to let him get away with it, here’s her response.”

My jaws dropped, when I realized she was playing the scene where I was reciting my poem—my spoken word. I never intended for anyone to see the video, neither less hear the poem. It was personal. Something that I was embrassed to even to feeling, yet now— Oh God—how many people saw this?

“Isn’t it great?” She began to scroll down the screen, “just look at how many people liked it.”

Okay, that’s a lot of likes—and wait, were those comments about me?  Instead of being filled with hatred, jokes, and weird comments like I feared, they were encouraging me, saying I needed to continue, I was inspiring and that they’d love to see more of me.

“Isn’t it amazing?”She squeaked, squeezing my shoulders with her hands. She leapt a bit, adding pressure to my shoulders. I wondered why she was excited about it, or was she always a big morning person?

“But, how,” I cleared my throat to control my vocals. I hated when they came out as a meek voice. I wanted a powerful voice, like in the video.  “How’d you get this…my video?”

“I forgot my charger for my laptop back home so I used yours. You still haven’t changed my password,” she gushed, appearing flattered by that.

“Because I didn’t expect you to use it.”

“But still, aren’t you glad I did. You’re famous! Just look at all the views. It’s over two hundred thousand over night. It’s viral,” she nearly sang.

“Uh, no, yeah,” I tried to make sense of my words. Am I happy? Shouldn’t I be upset she invaded my privacy and did this?  “I need to get to school.” I pushed back the chair, and grabbed my bag off the side of the seat and ran for it.

“Whoa sorry.” Travis inched the washroom door backwards, going back into the room. The door--It nearly slammed right in my face.  Too embarrassed to make words, I pressed my lips together and went for the door. 

The moment quickly evaporated from my head, and thoughts of the video began to take its place.

My heart was pounding in my chest. Now everyone knew my feelings—my stomach clenched, I felt like I’ve been invaded. Yet…those comments.