"I've never—" I started to defend myself but stopped when I heard approaching footsteps. A tenth-grade boy met my gaze, winked at me playfully, then scanned me from head to toe and whistled. My face flushed instantly, and I wanted to throw my hood over my head, but of course, I had come to class in a turtleneck with a narrow collar, not a plain hoodie.
Well, Rostova, thanks. I didn't think I could hurt your pride and self-confidence so much.
"Dasha, I've never… with anyone. Not like that. Honestly," I pleaded, realizing that even if Dasha was reacting to Tanya's gossip, what could I expect from people who had never talked to me?
"I believe you," she tried to reassure me, still unable to look me in the eyes properly. "It's just that now everyone is talking about it. One rumor builds on another. The boys are already bragging about who's with you, when, where, and how."
She nodded, hinting at actions that no one had the courage to name out loud.
"I understand that they're only lying and showing off to each other, but Asya, any girl who walks with you will inevitably be seen in their eyes," she pressed her lips together and raised her eyebrows, avoiding the shameful word, "the same way."
The meaning of Dasha's words hit me like snow sliding off a roof on a cold day.
"I see," I said dryly, realizing I could burst into tears in the hallway from hurt and anger. "I won't keep you."
I hurriedly turned on my toes and walked to the girls' restroom, feeling tears well up in my eyes. People passing by caught my gaze, and I heard their cutting comments, tossed back and forth. Nasty, dirty remarks about what they supposedly did with me, in what positions, and when. I didn't understand some of the words, but I guessed that the funnier the word sounded from the outside, the worse the act it was meant to imply.
The last few meters to the door, I ran, just to hide from the predatory eyes of hyenas who had been given fresh prey to savor.
How can people be so cruel? Why do they say all of this? Build new lies, fully knowing they've never even spoken two words with me? Why do people try to elevate themselves in their friends' eyes by humiliating someone else?
I ran into the first available stall, threw my backpack against the wall, and lowered the toilet seat. I pulled my legs to my chest and sobbed bitterly from hurt, even though I hadn't done anything wrong. I was just friends with Stas. And, in my own way, I liked him. Truly liked him, the way a girl can like a boy, but I would never, ever try to take him away, fearing I would turn into one of those drama-show heroines I despised. You can't build your happiness on someone else's misfortune. And besides, isn't being close to someone important to you more valuable than doing something stupid and losing a friendship forever? I knew the line I shouldn't cross and stayed right at the edge, but it didn't help.
Everything fell apart. The normal life I had imagined drifted further away, and despair inside me shattered the last hope for better days. Fear whispered that my father might not wake up today or even next week, leaving me in months of endless waiting. My heart kept reopening the wound left by Nick's betrayal, and then a new, gleaming blade was thrust into my back from where I least expected it. Tanya must have realized I wouldn't play by her rules and decided to do something vile just to distance me from Stas, or better yet — to make me run from school with my tail between my legs, since no protection would come from anywhere.
It was amazing how perfectly my classmate had timed it. What happened with my father wasn't public knowledge, but the coincidence worked perfectly in Tanya's favor. I wondered if she even considered the consequences of spreading such a rumor about the daughter of a respected local figure. Probably not. After all, with the money the Rostova family supposedly had, she could have come out unscathed even from worse situations.
I spent the rest of the break in the girls' restroom, crying and reflecting on the situation. Waiting for the bell, I carefully opened the door, made sure no one was around, and went to the sink. Cold water stung my skin as I washed the remnants of tears from my face. Raising my eyes to the mirror, I stared at my reflection and felt pity for the girl looking back with red, swollen eyes. No matter how many times I rinsed my face, the redness wouldn't go away. People would still notice the mark left by the cruel tongues, and I would have to live with it.
How I wished I could just leave. Pack my things and never return. For them to forget me like last year's snow. But I already knew from the hospital incident that the people of Xerton were insatiable: give them a new rumor to savor, and they'd devour it while waiting for the next. I had become a supplier of juicy stories for local entertainment: one day a stranger's mother had fled from a respected police officer, the next a girl used connections to get into a prestigious school, then got into trouble near school, and now this. In three months, more had happened to me in this small town than most Xertonians experienced in a lifetime. And that's just the tip of the iceberg of what actually happened.
The temptation to go home was strong, but I knew that if I went back, I'd lose to Tanya, who would revel in my suffering. Crying and leaving would be the best proof to support her failed narrative. People only abandon ship when the secret is out and the lifeboat is already in the water. That won't do.
Hoping all my tears had been shed, I gathered my courage and went to biology class, prepared to endure the nasty gossip. I needed to control myself and not react in front of others; then, perhaps, the vicious gossips would quiet down. That had worked well in my previous school, where even the laziest person would point out that I wasn't like them. Most girls found my interests and tastes strange, and I had no passion for shopping trips or testing makeup samples in the mall: who knew how many hands had touched that tube before mine, or how many had touched the escalator? That's where true evil and germs hide — in the cosmetics department.
The classroom was buzzing. Teacher Bobylev was writing new terms on the board, and classmates barely lifted their heads from their notebooks, trying to keep up. The seat next to Stas was empty, waiting for me. I quietly slipped through the classroom, muttering a short "sorry" to the teacher, and sat down.
"Slut…" started the boy at the next desk, but his neighbor hissed at him. I didn't remember her name, but decided to find out later, feeling grateful. After all, even Dasha wasn't ready to defend me, yet here was a girl I had once helped with a missed word. Maybe she just didn't want her neighbor in trouble and shushed him before the teacher heard.