T.M.I.

One

As a rule, people are stupid.

I'm not kidding. Like choke-on-their-own-spit stupid.

And no one is as stupid as high school kids. With their teenage hormones and their misguided conviction that they are the center of the universe. News flash. No one cares about your petty drama. Well, no one important. Because other stupid high school students care.

They care about much dumber stuff, too. Like rumors. Who's doing who behind the bleachers. Who cheated on who. Whom. Whom cares?

Their fatal mistake, however, is that they never look around. They think that if it's just two people in front of a locker, whispering to each other, no one can hear.

I can hear. I hear everything. I see everything. And not because I make an effort. Just because, unlike them, I pay attention.

Paying attention gets you very far. I can confirm or dismiss almost every rumor inside this hellhole of a school. Like that Cindy Liemann really did make out with Peter Chase. I saw them between classes, sneaking around, then under the bleachers, eating each other's faces off. 

And Marcy Gray does have an unhealthy crush on her Spanish teacher and has been stalking him for months. I followed her to his house once and watched her struggling to get her large butt up a tree and spy on him with binoculars. Gross.

Yes, if you pay attention, you see a lot of things. For a while, I just liked knowing. Knowledge is power after all. An infinite pool of blackmailing material, should I ever need it to protect myself. Because this school, the famous Petraka Academy for the future leaders of this world, is a jungle in which the weak are devoured, spit out and eaten again.

But then, TMI happened.

It sprouted over night like a vengeful stormcloud and confirmed one sole rumor going around. That Maria Solis really did run a Rosie Geld hate club. The silly girl even had a hate shrine in her basement. Photos of it sprouted on TMI and started the hurricane.

Poor Maria Solis is still confined to the janitor's closet for lunch, even months after the event. She was forced to destroy the shrine and issue a public apology to Rosie that also appeared on TMI.

Yes, Maria's fate was tragic, but it was a worthy sacrifice. Since that day, TMI blew up. Rosie Geld approved of it. Rosie Geld believed in it. And because of that, so did everybody else.

Everyone who is anyone downloaded the app and they all check it religiously. No one wants to be out of the loop. No one wants to miss the juicy gossip.

I pass through the hallways like a ghost, my hood falling over my eyes. I'm nothing abnormal, nothing worth looking at. Just a regular girl with a black hoodie, hiding behind unruly hair, wearing boys' cut-up jeans and converse. One of hundreds at this school, trying to stay under the radar of the shiny it crowd.

But unlike the other slightly emo girls who secretly want to be seen, I don't. My goal is to stay unnoticed, not be seen. And no one gives a shit about me. Even if I'm maybe the only thing they should be giving a shit about.

I pass by gangs of boys, laughing, lying about who they've slept with. News flash, Gordon Sterling, you're still a virgin. Hands don't count. My hand tightens against my phone, but I keep it in the pouch of my hoodie. It's not his time yet.

My next target is someone lower in the hierarchy at the moment. Because that's the secret of TMI's success. After the first rumor concerning top-of-the-food-chain Rosie Geld, TMI only focused on the more unpopular students.

No one likes to get attacked, to be a target. Everyone likes to see others bleed. Rosie is no exception, no matter how high above the mundane she believes herself to be.