Boarding with the Bad Boy [COMPLETE + BONUS published edition]

Cat Emoji, Eggplant Emoji

I cross my eyes at Jill and sink back to the floor, beckoning for her phone. She passes it over and I take snapshots of all three sections of "my" conversation with the third former, texting them to myself for future reference.

"To answer your first question," I say finally. "I don't know what the heck is going on here. Obviously, I didn't send these. Not only do I not have this kid's number, I would never even think of sending a bunch of third form boys on a scavenger hunt for my underwear. And I'd never let anyone call me 'kitten' without a good kick to the balls."

"Think it was Brandon then?" Jill asks.

I think for a moment. "I don't," I say finally. "He knows me well enough to at least sound something like me on text. Whoever did this can't know me at all."

Jill accepts my logic, closing her eyes and rolling onto her back. "Read it to me," she requests from the bed. She's doing her psychoanalysis thing, I can tell, but I let it slide. Maybe she'll find a texting pattern that incriminates a suspect.

"Okay," I say, shaking my ponytail and settling into the roles. "Wait...the whole thing?"

"No, just the last page. The post-coital, if you will."

I groan and Jill laughs, gesturing me forward. I flick to the third screenshot on her phone. "Ready?" I ask.

"Ready." Jill nods, her eyes still closed.

"Okay," I say again, clearing my throat. I put on a high-pitched voice to play myself. "Logan: Thanks for the good time tonight, Trav! I haven't had a ride like that in a while, if you get what I mean.... Winky face."

"Ugh," Jill groans. "Winky face is so lame."

"It wasn't—" I start to protest.

"I know," she cuts me off. "I just hate whoever it was. Go on."

"Travis:" I make my voice even higher. Because he's a child. "Glad to hear it, babe. I should have known you weren't being serviced properly in 202. You were practically purring when I was inside you."

"Gag," Jill interjects.

"Tell me about it," I say in my real voice. Then, high again, "Logan: I can't help the way you make me feel, baby. Cat emoji. Eggplant emoji?"

Jill groans and I glare at her. She's really making this hard. She beckons for me to go on.

"Travis: Same time tomorrow?

"Logan: Obvi. Your dorm? Before the Welcome Party?

"Travis: Slow down, kitten. Let's mix it up...I'll take you somewhere special...if you promise to make it worth my while." I pause, not sure how to describe the next text, one from "me."

Jill sits up, looking at me. I shrug, then go for it. "Logan: Oh, I'll make it worth your while." I glance at her, crossing my eyes again before describing: "Up-close-and-personal photo of very sexy female torso with great tits and a waxed vag—"

"Okay," Jill says, holding up a hand. "We got it."

"Any suspects?"

She shakes her head, clearly annoyed. "None. I do agree these people can't know you that well. You text way weirder shit."

I bark a laugh at that. "I don't!"

She gives me a look, then, from memory, quotes: "'Hey Jiller Killer, it's your girl Logan. Listen, can we get really deep into Star Wars this winter? Like, weirdly deep? Because I already know you love the Ewoks' cute little bodies and I can basically talk like Chewbacca. So this feels like a worthwhile venture. Let me know your thoughts.'" She pauses, then adds, "Then you just made Chewbacca noises for a solid minute."

"That was a voicemail," I object.

"Still," Jill says. "Weird."

"I've never sent a naked selfie," I point out.

"One point for Logan," Jill says drily, and I flop onto my back on her rug.

"Are you really regretting helping me get into Ryder?" I ask, a little timid. I don't want her to say yes.

She grunts above me. "I was just thinking that you must kind of hate me for getting you into this whole mess."

"You?!" I sit up and narrow my eyes on her. "I make dumb decision after dumb decision at this place!"

"And I told you to live with Sam for as long as possible and collect info on the boys. People aren't coming after you because of your weird, dumb self, Logan. They're coming after you because you're messing with the social order."

I take a second to consider this. "Aside from the 'weird, dumb self' part, I think you might be right," I say finally.

"Of course I am," Jill says. "Now. Here's what we do."

Eventually, Jill and I determine that I do absolutely nothing. The story is ridiculous at best, but my refuting it just adds fuel to Brandon's fire. If I lay low and pretend I don't give a shit about what's being said about me, the rest of the school will—hopefully—catch on that it's all a terrible lie.

"Worst case scenario," Jill says cheerfully as I step out her front door, "Administration finds out about it and brings you in to discuss. Then you'll be able to take some real action against the asshole."

The thought makes me cringe, and reminds me that I haven't told Jill the whole story about Headmaster Carr and Sam. I'm not sure why I'm keeping it from her, but I am. I think I'm a little embarrassed that I'm letting myself get caught up in a guy that alternately treats me like the greatest treasure he's ever gotten his hands on and horse shit. Speaking of which, I spend the walk back to my dorm berating myself for behaving like such a lamb. I've never allowed anyone to treat me the way Sam does and get away with it (much less kiss me until I'm freaking panting). I can't keep doing this. In the fifteen minutes it takes to get to MacMillan from Jill's, I've built up a perfect speech for my dear roommate. And this whole thing is going to end, one way or another.