Nobody in Particular(102)

I think of Alfie’s warning. I think of Oscar, and how Molly has every reason to want revenge on me. To take away my most important person, just as I took hers. I think of how well she knew Danni’s schedule, and mine. How the online rumors have been fueled by footage and photos from her social media account for the most part. I think of how much she knows about going viral, and influencing the masses.

And—with a pulling in my stomach—I think of her mother, who sits on the alumni association.

Too many others disagree with me, and my hands are tied.

“Do you remember at my birthday, when you found out about Danni and me?” I ask.

Molly seems hesitant, but she answers. “Yeah?”

“How did you know we were together?”

Eleanor watches Molly warily as her face twists. “I didn’t know before you told me,” she says. “But it would’ve been hard to miss that something was going on with you two. No offense, Eleanor,” she adds.

I nod, keeping my face passive. I don’t know if I quite believe her, but I’m not certain enough to accuse anyone of anything. How can I discern between genuine suspicion and the paranoia securing its hold on my mind? How much evidence do I need before I turn against my own friends?

“Alright,” I say in a hollow tone.

Molly bites her lip and stands up slowly. “You think I’m the one who outed you and Danni to your family?”

I remain silent.

She clasps her hands in front of her in a mockery of gratitude. “Awesome. Thanks, Rose. Charming. You know what? Do what you want with Alfie. I don’t give a shit. Good luck.”

She leaves with a final, scathing look in my direction. Eleanor picks up her phone, sucking in her cheeks. “Well, that was awkward,” she says.

I let my head fall against the mirror, succumbing to a wave of shame and exhaustion. “I’m sorry,” I say.

“Hey, don’t apologize to me,” she says. Her tone is light, but I don’t miss the reprimand. Even Eleanor, the famous neutral party, thinks I’m in the wrong here. Now I’m even less certain of where I stand than I was before.

I wonder whether, if I squeeze my eyes tightly enough, I can make all of this disappear.





FORTY-FOUR

DANNI




“Of course I didn’t sell that video,” Edmund says on the other side of the phone. “I would never do that to you.”

I mean, I kind of figured it seemed out of character. But right now it feels like almost anyone could be against me, so I’d figured it was worth calling him to ask. Just so I can know. Maybe having someone to blame would make this feel better, I don’t know.

“Do you have any idea who might have?” I ask.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.” He sighs. “Gilbert sent it to the group chat that night. He thought it was funny, because he had this theory that you weren’t into guys when you didn’t … like me … because girls usually do, and…” He clears his throat. “It’s not funny, obviously. It’s just, he was saying I told you so.”

“Guess he won,” I say in a deadened tone. “And I do like you. I just don’t—”

“Yeah, no, I get it, I get it. You don’t like guys.”

“Um, I do, actually. But I’ve got feelings for someone else, and they’re not going away anytime soon.”

“Oh.”

I chew on a hangnail. “So, how many people are in that group chat?”

“There’s twelve of us.”

Great. That narrows it down.

“It might have been Laurence Bell,” he says. “He doesn’t need an excuse to be a shit person at the best of times, let alone if he could sell that video for money.”

Maybe. But if I can’t know for sure, I’m not interested in speculating. I guess it doesn’t matter anyway, at the end of the day. It’s not like having a name will change what happens to me tomorrow.

“Are you okay?” Edmund asks. I haven’t told him about the online speculation, or the expulsion. I’m so fucking tired, right down to my marrow, of thinking about it.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll be fine.”

“You know,” he says, “I did like hanging out with you. Maybe we could do it again sometime, as friends?”

The last thing I expected right now was for someone to drag a smile out of me. But with this, Edmund manages it. “Sure, okay,” I say. “That’d be fun.”

“I’ll message you sometime, then. Good luck with everything.”

When I hang up the phone there’s a bunch of texts from Rose.

William’s agreed to help.

He has set up a meeting with the headmaster tomorrow.

Sit tight. This should be sorted by lunchtime.

I’m not ready to feel relieved yet. Not until I know for sure. And the best way I can know for sure is to organize my own backup plan.

So, I shoot Leonora Brittle an email. Leonora is the columnist the reporter introduced me to several days ago. We’ve spoken a couple of times over the last few days, going through the questions she wanted for her profile. Mostly things like where I grew up, and what my favorite TV shows are, and what I want to do for a career, along with some queer-specific questions. She was supposed to be emailing through the draft tonight, actually.