The Geek Revolution ✓

17 | backlash

SEEING DELANEY, YELLING AT ME from the end of the hall the Monday after the carwash, makes me instantly worried.

She's shaken. The girl with infallible confidence and wit is shaken, which makes me think I should run for the hills. But I don't. My legs keep tracking closer and closer to her, until her lips are not just moving, I can hear her words. "You need to go to your locker," she mutters, dragging me away from prying eyes.

I don't need to go to my locker actually, since I already have the books I need for the first period in my bag. I know it's serious, and yet I still ask, "Why?"

Delaney manoeuvres us around a corner, hooking her arm through mine. I almost protest, out of habit, because it's not the way to my next class. "It seems our queen is a bit mad about the carwash."

"But we didn't even win," I splutter.

"We didn't. But, we sort of showed the whole town that we can do practically the same thing as Brittany. Same age, same school — except much less cool in her eyes. she's scared people will stop fearing her as much they do now."

I raise a finger, "Delaney, that's exactly what we wanted."

"I know that. Brittany also knows that. So she got her revenge."

Just as she finishes, her grip loosens, because there's nowhere else to steer me to. I just don't notice my locker behind all these people staring. I have to push and shove my way to get through, though I immediately wish I didn't.

The door is wide open, my books ripped and flung over the ground. There are photos of me with lewd, disgusting images Photoshopped on top. The mere sight of the blurred pictures sends waves of ice down my spine. The thought of someone watching me enough to get all these photos of me in class is so creepy. Music class. I actually look around the hall, trying to see if Madison is here, too, stalking me.

When everything seems fine — well, not really — I scoop up the pictures, and take a cursory look before dumping them inside my bag. A shiver runs through me. I never want to see those again.

Across my locker, and my locker only, words are spray-painted in such abundance that they make up the background. It's like, between the photos, Brittany wanted none of my locker visible.

LOSER

FRAUD

WHORE

GEEK

Those insults are just the ones painted biggest. I'd actually have to walk up to my locker and squint to read the smallest of them. Like Brittany wanted: no spaces. I could be called lucky for having avoided being bullied before this year. My name was kept out of gossip, and I made sure to be kind to everyone I met. So, I know why people thought I was a goody-goody.

My mind races ahead of the situation, and all the noise stops reaching my brain as I think. This must either be a warning, or a retaliation. Either way, it means Brittany views us as a threat to her empire. Otherwise, she wouldn't bother doing this.

I'm pleased that she realises we're a force to be reckoned with, but those flimsy feelings are washed away by fear. We might be a force to reckon with, but Brittany's Monarchy is a force to run from. Not for the first time, I'm questioning just how close to crazy we are. I can handle this. What if next time I'm not the target?

"They're all like this." Delaney's voice cuts through my thoughts, and with her voice, comes all the chatter and footsteps that I had lost sense of. "All our lockers."

I step back from my locker with shaky limbs. I hunt around for the lock, but give up after a few seconds. If Terrence picked his way into my locker, then he probably took the lock with him. A souvenir, of sorts, reminding him of all the destruction he's caused.