Chapter Thirteen: Kayla

As soon as I walked into the school, I knew something was wrong. People were either staring at me, trying not to stare at me, or pointing at me and chuckling. At first I wondered if I had something on my face, or if I had forgotten something important, like my pants. I hadn't slept very much the night before because I was so excited about reconnecting with Frog, so I wouldn't have been surprised if I had forgotten something. But then I saw the posters. There were dozens of them lining the hallways, taped to lockers and doorways and displays. There was some variation on the posters, but they were all demeaning, and they all featured me.

I walked slowly down the hallway as I looked at them, while the stares and giggles of the other students intensified. Some showed a picture of me wearing a tiara at homecoming and read: "Prison Princess." Others displayed an unflattering picture of me I recognized from one of my social media accounts, and "Liar" was written in bold letters across my forehead. The rest showed me photoshopped in a nun costume, and they said: "You Can Look, But Please Don't Touch."

I raised my eyebrows as I took in all of these posters, not sure whether to laugh or cry. They were absolutely ridiculous, and yet, they hurt. Knowing that I was being singled out and made fun of made me feel exposed and small.

"Here comes the prison princess!" Somebody shouted as I turned the corner. People all around me erupted into laughter, and I just kept my head down and continued walking. I wasn't really concentrating on where I was going, and I nearly ran into Wyatt and Miranda, who were standing in the middle of the hall.

"Hi Kayla," Miranda said with a sneer, standing in front of me so I couldn't pass.

"What do you want, Miranda?" I said warily.

"I just wanted to know what you thought of the new decorations," she said cruelly.

"They could use a little more color and authenticity," I replied, narrowing my eyes at her. "Did you guys do this?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Wyatt said, shrugging. "But now at least everyone knows what kind of person you really are." He stepped closer to me. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before you start throwing out false accusations," he whispered in my ear. "The lies you told about your dad are not going to help your case." He stepped back and put his arm around Miranda, looking smug.

"You are so pathetic, Kayla," Miranda spat. "Don't expect us to believe any more of your lies."

They turned and walked down the hall, leaving me feeling more vulnerable than I had in a long time.

*****

I sat down at the table with all the other junior class officers and tried to avoid their eyes. Student Government was usually one of my favorite classes of the day, but lately it had been just another period to get through. James Huckston stood up at the front of the room while everyone got settled.

"Okay guys," James said loudly, trying to get everyone's attention. "First, thanks to everyone who helped remove the, ah… posters."

There were a few furtive glances my way, but luckily everyone in there was tactful enough not to say anything.

"Secondly," James continued, "we've got elections for next year coming up. If you're intending to run for an office, you need to get in your application before next Friday."

Sadie Garrett, my junior class vice president, leaned closer to me. "Are you still planning on running for student body president?" She asked.

I could see the uncertainty in her eyes, almost as if she was hoping I would say that I wasn't. We had planned on running together as student body president and vice president for months, but now, with everything that had happened and my recent fall from social grace, I wasn't so sure. Perhaps Sadie was wanting to find someone else to run with, or maybe she wanted to run for president herself.

"I'll let you know by the end of the week," I said.

She nodded, but she didn't look very satisfied.

After school that day, I decided to skip volleyball practice and just go home. I wanted time to process the day's events before I went to the diner, and I wanted to talk to Frog. It was odd that even though I had had a relatively horrible day, knowing that I was back in communication with Frog had made it bearable.

I collapsed on the couch and pulled out my phone, chewing on my lip for a moment while I tried to figure out what to say.

[Hey Frog, can I ask you a question?]

[Of course. But I can't guarantee I'll be able to answer it.]

[How did you deal with all that bullying at school? How were you able to handle it?]

A few minutes passed, and I started to wonder if I had asked the wrong thing.

Then: [I had a lot of distractions. I would go home and lift weights, or practice karate, or play my guitar so I wouldn't have to think about it. Sometimes I would laugh it off with Milo. But I also think that deep down, I knew who I was, and I knew I was better than what everyone else thought of me.]

I read through his text several times. I didn't expect him to give such a thought provoking answer.

[Why do you ask?] He added.

I chewed on my lip again, wondering how much I should disclose.

[I reported what happened with Wyatt at the homecoming dance. Unfortunately, nobody seems to believe me, and Wyatt wasn't too happy about it.]

[Has he been bothering you?]

[Yeah, kind of. He put up a bunch of ridiculous posters at school today. They were stupid, but it was still embarrassing. But, I did hose him down with the power sprayer when he came to harass me at the diner.]

[Really? I would have given my left arm to see that.]

[Yeah, the look on his face was priceless.]

A minute or two passed before Frog responded again.

[Kayla, you are the most incredible person I know. It's not worth it to let other people decide who you are or take away your light.]

I was floored by his words. Was this the same guy who used to mop the hallways of our school? His depth and sincerity was amazing and comforting.

[Thanks Frog, that means a lot.]

I set my phone down and leaned back on the couch. The things I had been going through were difficult, but I didn't have to let them obliterate my strengths. Regardless of who did or did not believe me, I needed to believe in myself. It didn't matter if my dad had been in prison, I wasn't anything like him, and I needed to get myself together.

I stood up and put my shoes back on, resolving to go back to school and catch the last half of volleyball practice. Wallowing wasn't doing me any good. I needed distractions. I needed purpose.