Virgin Terri

Chapter 3: Going West

I suppose it was foolish to think that everyone would have moved on twenty-four hours later, but I'd kind of really hoped that they would have. Walking into school, I'd been praying everyone had forgotten about the post or maybe had gotten distracted by some one else's drama. It wasn't uncommon for the confessions page to crank out multiple accusations a week, so maybe I'd get lucky.

Not a chance.

I entered the school grounds and immediately felt eyes oscillate towards me. 

Great.

"Hey, Terri," a basketball player cooed as I walked passed his locker, "you want to hang out this weekend? I could give you some private lessons, if you catch my drift." I kept walking, ignoring his mocking laugh that followed me as I went. Ever since the tweet had made it through the school, guys had started talking to me like that. Some regarded me with a new attraction in their eyes. Some made crude remarks. Others tried being nicer about it, I suppose, but their intentions were obvious. In their mind, I'd gone from the prude to the prostitute. 

Crazy how an alleged night with one guy turned you into a virulent nymphomaniac. Sigh.

Taylor and Tasha flanked my locker, both straightening as I approached them. Seeing them together was sometimes a little odd; while both fashionable, their distinct styles didn't blend as smoothly as some of the other cliques in school. Taylor was the one who love dark colors and chunky jewelry, teasing out her brown hair and outlining her eyes with an impersonal black eyeliner.

Tasha, on the other hand, was very into vintage looking clothes; she was into high-waist bottoms, crop tops, and shoes my mother probably wore in college. She was more partial to bright colors than Taylor, but even her style wasn't as light and frilly as mine. Yes, I was the one most likely to be seen in billowy blouses and flower-covered dresses. Sue me for being girly. 

"Hey, T," Taylor greeted as I approached them, her eyes measuring me with hesitant concern. 

"You okay?" Tasha asked, her question tacking right on the end of Taylor's greeting. I didn't answer immediately, instead focusing on opening my locker while thinking of an appropriate response. I had never actually gotten back to Tasha about the whole telling Roy I liked him thing. Like my hope that the rumors would dissipate, I was kind of counting on the improbable fact that she'd decide to drop the whole thing out of sympathy.

"Tasha told me you had a heart-to-heart with Roy Russo," Taylor mused, staring at her nails. I whipped around, glaring at Tasha.

"You told her?" I hissed in disbelief. 

"There's no secrets between the T's," Tasha defended herself, raising her hands innocently. The action made the collection of bangles she wore clatter down her brown arm. "But I really just wanted Taylor's input after you ditched me in the hallway." Oh. Yeah. I was more in the wrong than she was.

"Ah... sorry about that," I murmured, depositing the books in my locker and into my bag. "I just got a little... overwhelmed."

"To be expected when you've spent your whole life in hiding," Taylor said with a nod. "You're not used to attention. Or adversity." I glared at her. "Don't look at me like that, you know it's true." I did. Didn't mean I had to like it. "So what do you even see in Roy? And why did you think it'd be best to confess your  feelings to him at a fourth of July party?"

"I mean..." I shut my locker. "I didn't think he'd remember. And it kind of just slipped out."

"A love confession can just slip out?" Taylor asked. "If that's the case I need to avoid Harris Logan at all costs. Can't have him knowing how much I love his biceps." I ignored Taylor's joke and started walking to class. Predictably, Tasha and Taylor followed. "C'mon, Terri, let us know what happened," Taylor urged.