I stare back, unmoving, fighting the urge to comb my fingers through my messy hair. It’s really not fair that I had to run into Tessa like this without warning, when I’m such a mess and she’s so well put-together. Her wispy light brown hair frames her perfectly made-up face; she’s learned her lesson about the bronzer, it seems. Looks like Kristen’s already started on her, grooming her to be a proper replacement.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Tessa snaps. There’s a newfound conviction in her tone I’ve never heard before, the kind that comes from having all the power at hand. “Do you really expect me to feel sorry for you, after you went and leaked the pictures of me and Owen?”
I really, really want to inform Tessa that her new BFF Kristen was the one who spread the photos. Instead I set my jaw and stare down at the floor. Times like these I wonder if this vow is worth it, but then again, it’s not like Tessa would take my word for it anyway.
Suddenly there’s a hand on my back. Sam stands beside me, looking from me to Tessa and back again. “I think I’m done here,” he says. “You ready to go?”
I nod, maybe a little more fervently than I mean to, and Sam keeps his hand placed lightly on the middle of my back as we brush past Tessa and head toward the store exit. I don’t have to look over my shoulder to know that she’s watching me walk away.
day fifteen
The next email from Kristen arrives in my in-box on Sunday evening.
The subject line is FWD: HOT MESS………MINUS THE HOT, and it takes me a minute to get past my trepidation and open it. And as soon as I do I wish I never had.
There’s no text, just a single photo. Of me. Hunched over the toilet, looking like I’m about to puke. I recognize the outfit as the one I wore on New Year’s; the plunging neckline leaves my boobs halfway out of my top, and the camera caught me midblink, my mouth open in what looks to be a gag. The flash washes out my already pale skin and catches my monstrous hair in all its bushy, frizzed-out glory.