As they laughed again, heat crept up my neck and my heart began to hammer so hard that I thought I'd have a heart attack right then and there. That was my diary. They were reading out of my diary. The one I usually kept locked and hidden in my bedroom, so how did they have it and … Oh my God. They were reading it. Out loud.
Leaning against the wall, I tried to inhale, but I couldn't seem to catch my breath. I could hear them out there, passing my private written thoughts around for everyone to read a page, and as much as I knew I should bust in there so they'd stop, the last thing that needed to happen was me hyperventilating or passing out in front of them. That would just triple the humiliation that was currently coursing through my body.
What did I do to them? We'd never really hung out before. They didn't even know anything about me, for Pete's sake, but now they would know everything. Half of me wanted to confront them all, to lash out and tell them what horrible people they were, but the other half wanted to crumple into a ball, right then and there.
I didn't do either of those things, though. Finally taking a deep breath, I straightened off the wall, and that was when I heard a familiar voice coming up behind me.
"Hey, there you are," Dawson said, and even in the dark of the hall, I could see him smiling, his brilliant white grin that won over girls, teachers, and parents alike.
"Shh," I replied. The last thing I needed was everyone to know that I was eavesdropping about their invasion of my privacy, and I glanced out to make sure no one had heard his approach. They hadn't.
"Let me get that," Dawson said, quieter this time, as he lifted the bags from my shoulder. I wished I could say the weight I was feeling right then had been lifted as well. If anything, it just made me feel empty. Thank God Dawson hadn't been in there to hear what they'd said. If he had, it would've been more than I could bear.
A traitorous tear slid down my cheek, and I casually rubbed my face to brush it away.
"What's wrong?" he asked, and when I didn't answer, he lifted my chin to look at him. That made it worse, because then the tears really began to flow. Not only did everyone in that room now know my secrets, but Dawson would know them too. What if he looked at me the way they would look at me now? What if he didn't want to be friends anymore? I didn't want to think about that, so I kept silent, shaking my head to say that no, nothing was wrong. Totally normal to be crying out of nowhere in the middle of a party.
"Tell me what's wrong right now. Are you hurt?"
"No. It's nothing," I said, trying to convince myself more than him. "It's nothing."
"I've never seen you cry, so it's obviously not nothing."
Shrieks of laughter rang out, drawing Dawson's attention toward the patio.
"Wait, wait," another girl said. "This one's even better. 'Dawson went to the movies with Carla tonight. I don't know why he bothers with girls that aren't good enough for him.' What, like Paige is his type? Puh-leeze. Wait until Carla finds out what she wrote. Dawson's only friends with her because he feels sorry her parents don't pay her any attention. At least, that's what I heard."
Tears streamed down my face, and Dawson didn't have to ask me why this time. He let go of the bags, letting them crash to the ground, and then he was slamming the slider door all the way open. Conversation came to a halt as everyone stared up at him.
"D, man, come listen to this-" one of the jock guys said, obviously slow on the uptake.
Dawson ignored him, crossing the patio to grab my diary out of Holly Butler's perfectly manicured hands.
"Who took this?" he asked, holding the diary up.
"Relax, it's just a joke," Holly said, flipping her glossy brown hair over one shoulder.
"It's not a joke. You don't read someone's private thoughts out loud to all of your friends."
"Maybe your little girlfriend shouldn't leave her diary somewhere we'd find it. You should read what she says about you."
"I'm positive she didn't leave it anywhere, unless you went trolling in her bedroom that's off-limits," Dawson replied, and it didn't escape my notice that he let the girlfriend comment pass by without denial, as well as the mention of himself between the pages. I wiped away the last of my tears as a tiny flutter replaced the dread in my stomach.
"What the hell makes you think it's okay to do that to somebody, especially Paige?" he continued. "She's done nothing but be nice to all of you, and all you guys have done is mooch off her food and laugh at her. This is how you say thank you? Really, guys?" Dawson let out a disgusted snort.
Silence descended over the room, and a couple of the girls shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his glare. I stood where he'd left me, in complete stillness and utter shock that he was so upset on my behalf. I'd never seen him like this before; Dawson was a chill guy, the kind everyone was drawn to because he made you feel good. And he was good at everything, which should've been maddening, but just made you unable to take your eyes off him. I would've hated to be on the receiving end of the look he was giving everyone now, and by their expressions, they were baffled at what was coming at them.
"Get out," Dawson said, pointing toward the door. "And if I hear that one of you have breathed a word about what's in that diary, I'll make sure that you don't walk for months. Goodbye, football team. Goodbye, cheerleading. Try me. I dare you."
No one breathed a word; they just looked at each other as if waiting for someone to take the lead on what they should do.
Finally, one of the bigger guys, Chris, walked over to Dawson, and I held my breath. Dawson wasn't a scrawny guy, but he wasn't an athlete either, and I hoped my friend wouldn't end up getting punched in the face for sticking up for me. There was no need to worry, though, because Chris was just passing by on his way out, and his hand landed briefly on Dawson's shoulder. "Sorry, man-"
"Don't say sorry to me. Go tell Paige you're sorry for being such assholes."
Chris gave a curt nod. "Right."
Nothing more was said as they all filed out after him, the entire group of twenty or so, and before it occurred to me to move and hide, they were walking past me, mumbling what sounded like apologies. I stood there, frozen in place, still holding one of the bags of chips in my arms as though it was a barrier between them and me.
Wow. So that was what it was like to have power-true power. If anyone else in that group had stood up and done the same, it wouldn't have had nearly the effect that Dawson's tongue-lashing had. I felt such a strong surge of pride for Dawson to be able to stand up to those people and win.
The sad thing was, that used to be me. I'd been such a loud, spunky kid, one who never took anybody's crap and made friends anywhere I went. When had that changed? When I'd finally realized my parents didn't give two shits about me? When puberty hit and my smooth, flawless complexion turned into a Clearasil "before" ad? The acne had cleared up now, thank God, but my self-esteem hadn't seemed to recover. I didn't like who I'd become, this person that hid in the shadows, but I didn't much like anyone in that group either.
"Paige … " Dawson slid the patio door shut and then came over to hand me the diary. I promptly dropped the chips and hugged the journal to my chest. "I'm so sorry. Those guys-"
"It's fine."
"It's not fine. I'm sorry you had to hear that-"
"It's okay."
"And I'm sorry they did that to you."
"I told you. It's-"
"Fine. Yeah, I know. And I know you better than that." He was silent for a moment. "They're full of shit anyway."
I nodded, because he was right. "Thank you. You didn't have to do that."
"Yes, I did."
"Well, thank you anyway."
Dawson rubbed the goosebumps away from my arms and gave me a small smile. "You're better than all those guys-you know that, right?"
"Girls too?" I teased, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. I wanted to rewind to a few hours ago, before I'd issued invites to anyone. I wanted to just watch a silly comedy with Dawson and quote movies and take cracks at each other. But I couldn't deny that the damage was done. Who knew if they'd heed Dawson's warning? The whole school could find out what happened.
"Better than all of them. And Paige? Who gives a damn what any of them say. Seriously. You know you're kickass. I think you're kickass. Who cares what anyone else says?"
That made me finally crack a smile. "I did look pretty kickass standing here holding a bag of chips, huh?"
"Jackie Chan would be shivering in his boots."
"I dunno, I think scary Dawson yelling might have him beat," I said, picking the bags up off the floor, and again, he took the heavier ones and put them on his shoulder. As I walked past him, heading back toward the kitchen to put all the stuff away, he reached out and stopped me.
"You know I'd never want to hurt you like that or embarrass you, right?" he said, and cupped my cheek. "I'd never do that to you, Paige. You know I wouldn't."
"PAIGE?"
AS I shook away the memory of sixteen-year-old me and Dawson, his eyes came into focus in front of me, and the concern in them echoed the ones I'd just seen.