My hands had almost stopped shaking when I saw a reply in the thread that had my name tagged. I read the words with my mouth hanging open.
The post was from Duke. It read: Hollander couldn’t teach a virgin how to come! Right Audrey Ross? LOL HA HA HA!!
I read the words again. What the fuck? I grabbed my phone and sent Rachel a text.
DID YOU SEE WHAT DUKE POSTED????
As I sat holding my breath, waiting for a reply, my computer pinged to let me know that someone had added another comment with my name.
This post was from one of Duke’s football buddies that I didn’t even know. It read: Maybe old man Hollander can give Audrey Ross private lessons. Maybe his old dick could pop that sweet cherry since she thinks she’s too good for us!
Then another football player piled on. Hollander’s a dick. Maybe if Audrey spreads her legs for him he’ll lighten the fuck up on the rest of us!
Oh my god, I couldn’t believe this was happening.
Another post: A virgin at Trent State? No fucking way! Where is she? Who is Audrey Ross?
Then another: Oh please Audrey fuck Hollander into giving us all A’s!
And another: Hollander couldn’t get a hard-on at a whore house on freebie night!”
And another: I heard Hollander’s wife left him because he was such an asshole. Go cheer him up Audrey Ross! Give that old drunk some pussy!!!!
More students started piling on.
I couldn’t keep up with the thread, it was changing so quickly.
My computer dinged each time my name was tagged in a post.
The dinging was becoming incessant. I turned off the volume but could not stop reading the posts. It was like watching a horrific train wreck happen right before my eyes. And I was tied to the tracks.
Suddenly, the fact that Hollander gave everyone an F didn’t matter anymore.
What mattered was that I was a virgin.
And now the whole world knew it.
CHAPTER SEVEN: Chase
I was passed out on the couch when my phone buzzed. I forced my eyes to open. I had to look around for the phone and finally found it on the floor next to the coffee table.
I squinted at the screen. It was Ron Poole, a fellow professor at Trent and probably the only friend I had left in the world.
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was as dry as a bone. My breath reeked of cigarettes and whiskey and vomit. I sat up and looked down at myself. At some point during the night I had puked all down the front of my shirt.
I swiped the screen and grunted a hello, which came out as a croak.
Ron’s panicked voice filled my ear. “Chase? Chase, are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here. Hang on,” I said, pushing myself off the couch to head to the bathroom. I peeled off my filthy T-shirt and jeans and kicked them away from me. I plopped down naked on the toilet and took a good long piss that I was sure Ron could hear.
“Chase? Goddammit, man, answer the phone.”
“I’m here,” I said, rubbing my eyes. I blew out a long breath that filled the air with the stench of another night of my life wasted, given over to the booze. “What’s up?”
“Have you seen the Trent group thread on FaceSpace this morning?”
I frowned. It made my head throb. “No, Ron. I don’t read shit on FaceSpace,” I said. “Isn’t it enough that we have to put up with these little bastards in person?”
“Did you really give your entire English Lit. class an F?” Ron asked. Even his voice coming through the little speaker in my phone made my head hurt. My insides started churning. I blew out a loud fart into the toilet and grunted into the phone.
“Jesus, man,” Ron said. “Look, you need to get your shit together or you’re gonna be fired.”
“I know,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “I’ve got to get my shit together.” The problem was, I had spent so many years spreading my shit thin, I wasn’t sure that I could ever get it all together again.
“There’s a thread on FaceSpace that you’re tagged in. You need to fix this before Nancy Dorfmann sees it and goes ballistic.”
“Fix what?” I asked.
“Get on FaceSpace now,” he said again. “While you’re sober.”
Ron clicked off the call and I set my phone on the sink. I sat on the toilet and finished what I’d started, and then I went to search for my computer.
* * *
“Shit.”
It was the only word I could think of to say as I read the long FaceSpace thread that began with me giving everyone an F and then turned into a discussion of Audrey Ross’s virginity.
Wow. A virgin at Trent State. That was almost like a Big Foot sighting. I read through all the posts, all two hundred of them, not overly surprised by what I’d read.
That was the problem with these social media platforms. What started out as a legitimate topic of discussion quickly turned into a nasty mob spewing anger and filth and trying to see who could be the most outrageous.