I walk home. I don't even try to find Mo. I just walk home. I don't even know where I'm going, but I eventually find familiar streets and make my way to my house. I sneak in without waking my parents. If they saw me like this, they'd know I was at a party and they'd ground me for it.
I get myself out of my clothes and take a shower.
I feel dirty, and I don't think a shower is gonna change that.
••
I find myself walking to Mo's locker before first period two days later. I stop next to her. She's looking blankly at her locker.
And that's how I know:
She knows.
"Mo-"
"Is it true." She keeps the same, blank expression on her face as she stares at her locker.
"Yes."
"Then I'm busy. I can't talk right now." She starts to open her locker.
"I don't expect you to forgive me, but please Mo, I was so wasted and I regret it, I didn't know what I was doing-"
"Sorry, I'm busy right now. Talk later?" She walks away with her books in her arm. I make my way to the bathroom and cry like I have been all weekend.
The entire day is torturous and in math class, Harry wouldn't even look my way. I sat at a table alone at lunch. Terrence never made any move to talk to me, which was refreshing. If I'm honest, he might not even remember who he messed with that night. He was wasted too, and since he fucks girls constantly, he might not remember. I remember mainly because I woke up and saw him lying next to me. Otherwise, who knows if I'd remember at all?
I don't want to go home, so afterschool I decide to walk.
Just walk.
I find myself walking to the park. There's usually no one here, and I silently pray that it's empty. As usual, it is so I go and sit on a swing. I slump my shoulders and swing back and forth slowly.
I'm not the kind of girl to kiss just anybody.
I'm not the kind of girl to go to parties.
I'm not the kind of girl to get drunk. So drunk that she almost hooks up with some guy.
I'm not the kind of girl to be basically with a guy then get with another.
I'm not the kind of girl to mess around with the guy that her best friend has feelings for.
I'm not the kind of girl to start rarely seeing her parents because she's always out with a guy or at a party.
I'm not the kind of girl to lie to her parents.
I'm not the kind of girl to lie to her best friend.
I'm not the kind of girl to be letting a guy I have no feelings for touch me in a sexual way.
I'm not the kind of girl to have hickeys scattered on her neck.
I'm not the kind of girl to start out innocent and turn into some horny party girl.
I'm not the kind of girl you read about in your favorite bad boy book.
I'm not the kind of girl you see in that bad boy movie.
I'm not that kind of girl.
So why am I that kind of girl? Why am I sitting here on this swing? And why do I feel like I'm infecting this swing?
I bet you're laughing right now. As funny as that questions sounds. But it's real. It's a real thing to feel so gross and so disgusted with yourself that you feel like you'll destroy everything you touch. That you'll infect everything you touch.
