Unedited. Sorry for any mistakes.

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By the time Monday came around Rebecca didn’t even have the energy to move. She wanted to close her eyes and just sleep. She didn’t want to get up. Most importantly, she didn’t want to go to school. All night she’d been plagued by nightmares, trying to imagine what Skye had meant when she’d said that the incident — Rebecca found reliving it easier to stomach if she called it that — was only the beginning. In a literal sense she knew what it meant — it would only get worse — but with Skye you couldn’t think literally. She could use anything she wanted to humiliate her.

“Get up! You have school in an hour!” her mother yelled.

Rebecca stared up at the ceiling, willing for today not to be Monday. To begin with, she hated Mondays with a passion. If she had the choice she’d get rid of the day all together. That wouldn’t work though because then she’d only hate Tuesdays. If she had her way there’d be no days left.

“Rebecca!”

She didn’t yell anything else — the message was clear. Rebecca had to get out of bed and get ready. As she sat, the sheets falling off of her she considered pretending to be sick. It hindsight it was a good option but Rebecca would never be able to pull it off. She was the worst actress to have ever walked the planet. No way could she fake a convincing cough. She wouldn’t even be able to cough right. Besides, she’d been perfectly fine yesterday. Her mother was too perceptive for her own good and she’d see right through any of Rebecca’s attempts. Then there was the fact that she wasn’t a coward. She didn’t run from her problems — it was impossible no matter the issue you faced; eventually you’d have to face it. Skye would find a way to get back at her for thinking that Rebecca had slept with her boyfriend somehow. Avoiding school wouldn’t help anything; it would only deny the inevitable.

“Rebecca!”

Sighing, Rebecca stood. “Coming!” she yelled back down.

“You better be!” her mother warned, only half serious.

Begrudgingly Rebecca walked to her wardrobe, searching for clothes. On the way she couldn’t avoid seeing her yellow splattered shirt. Rebecca had managed to clean herself off in the bathroom. There’d still been smoothie on her but not enough to be noticeable. She hadn’t been able to save her hair, the drink having already started to dry. Still, she’d gotten enough out so that she didn’t look like someone had poured a drink all over her. Besides, her hair wasn’t even that dark. Her body, she’d managed to clean off completely, as well as her face.

Her shirt was a different story.

It was one of her favourite shirts, an actual shirt from one of their concerts. She hadn’t been to the concert, of course, but she treasured it just the same. The only reason she had it was because one of her foster families hadn’t wanted it anymore. It had belonged to their son, who’d moved out years before Rebecca had moved in — for the limited time she’d been there. According to them, it had been from his rebellion years, where he’d turned to rock music that had rotted his brain during his punk phase. Rebecca didn’t agree with that at all. Liking bands wasn’t a phase you went through. She’d been too young to know that then though. So, Rebecca had been given the shirt, since apparently it was ‘poison’ and she’d deserved to be given poison. She couldn’t complain. Now it was one of her favourites.

And now it was ruined.

Mournfully she stared at it. The smoothie had stained the shirt, the white no longer white. Rebecca had spent ten minutes in the toilets trying to salvage the shirt — a record for her because she escaped public toilets as quickly as she could. It had been a lost cause from the beginning. Eventually she’d just given up, walking out of the room. Miracle of all miracles, no one had opened the door and looked inside — Rebecca still wasn’t sure whether that had been luck on her side, or the opposite. No one had seen her trying to un-Scooby-Doo herself. No one had looked at her any different when she’d walked back into the food court. Her parents hadn’t noticed either if Rebecca went on their reactions. She knew that wasn’t true though. They’d noticed that her shirt was different. Luckily, they hadn’t asked about it.

“Rebecca Anna Morley!”

“Coming!” Her parents rarely ever used her full name; when they did they weren’t joking around. Her mother was worrying unnecessarily though — Rebecca wouldn’t take an hour to get ready; she’d only need half the time. Still, she wasn’t about to purposely ignore her mother to spite her.

Grabbing a pair of jeans and a random shirt, Rebecca rushed to the bathroom. She started the shower, stripping as fast as she could. She had to wash her hair but she’d be quick.

*             *             * 

Ten minutes later, Rebecca walked into the kitchen in search of her mother. She was sitting at the dining table reading the paper. Her pant-suit looked like it was brand new, the white of the blouse almost blinding. Rebecca thought it was crazy that her mother was even eating while wearing it. Personally, she’d never eat in something so messy — and jam on toast was just a disaster waiting to happen, the crumbs ready to fall all over you. As usual it was only another show of how poised her mother was. In comparison, Rebecca was a mess. By now she’d have ruined the clothes, jam stains covering it. By some miracle, her mother didn’t even have a single crumb on her.

“You’re up. I thought you’d never be awake,” her mother said as she turned, smiling at Becca. Unlike Saturday, she wore make-up, though it was so minimal it was barely noticeable. With her hair in an immaculate bun, her mother was the epitome of class.

“Ha. Ha.” Rebecca poked her tongue out at her mother, ignoring how childish the act was.

Rebecca was looked up and down. “You look nice, Becca.”

Forcing a smile Rebecca said, “Thanks. You do too. Very—” Rebecca searched her mind for the fanciest work she could. Finally she settled on, “debonair.” She didn’t know the exact meaning but she’d heard her mother say it more than a few times and she’d been able to figure it out.

Her mother rolled her eyes. “Deflection. Nice one.”

Rebecca couldn’t deny it wasn’t true. Comments about the way she looked were something she’d grown to despise. Good or bad, she hated them. “I’m only speaking the truth.”

Her mother smiled at her, before she gestured to the kitchen. “Enough talking. I need you to eat so we’re not late. There’s toast that only just popped.”

“Thanks mum,” Rebecca said, walking into the kitchen. “What do we have?”

“You have eyes. Look.”

“That’s so much harder than just knowing.”

Rebecca heard a scoff from the table. “It is not harder. You’re just lazy.”

Feigning anger, Rebecca narrowed her eyes in her mother’s direction. “I’m not lazy and you’re not very helpful,” she muttered, trying not to smile.

“Worst mother ever. Got it.”

Rebecca smiled across the room. “Love you.” Scanning the spreads in the pantry, she finally settled on peanut butter, bringing it over to the toaster.

Her mother rolled her eyes. “Sucking up I see.” Rebecca didn’t say anything, spreading the peanut butter over the bread. She didn’t use any butter because that was gross. “Love you too.”

“I know you do.” Rebecca grabbed a plate and brought it over to the table. Sitting down she started to eat.

“Eat quickly; I don’t want to be late. I have to meet with a client before a trial.”

It was on the tip of Rebecca’s tongue to say that they wouldn’t be late but she kept her silence, only eating faster.

*             *             * 

Stepping out the car, Rebecca looked around the court yard. It was empty besides the picnic tables, barely-clothed bodies surrounding it. Rebecca watched on fascinated as the popular kids all stared in different directions, none of them really talking. It was then she realised that Skye wasn’t there. They honestly looked lost without her — more so the girls than the guys. There wasn’t any talking besides a few of the guys trying to get the attention of one of the girls. Even physical contact didn’t hold their attention. Skye really is the glue that holds them together. Without her they have no idea what to do. Rebecca had suspected it for years, but her suspicions had never been confirmed. Until now.

Rebecca wanted to laugh. It was so sad it was comical. Without Skye none of them had a brain. They relied on one person for everything. And, ironic as it was that person probably hated them. Even though she’d only ever been on the receiving end of Skye’s vicious streak, she’d learned a lot from just watching. Skye didn’t have friends. She didn’t hold anyone close unless it benefited her. She only used people. She’d proven it when she’d kicked out the girls who’d had her nude photos exposed. It had been unremorseful and cruel. To Skye that girl had been nothing but a pawn in her game. No wonder why she had people who followed her blindly — if you didn’t you risked your health. It wasn’t fun to be on Skye’s radar of hate, Rebecca knew that first hand.

Shaking her head, Rebecca forced her attention away from them. They could be idiots on their own. Without looks they had nothing — they were weak. Rebecca almost felt bad for Mikael — she’d given up on thinking of him with an alias. He’d seemed so nice. Now he was just as infected as all of them. 

She didn’t even get one insult or yell as she walked by them. They just ignored her. Rebecca assumed it was because they were too preoccupied in their search of their leader. She could honestly say she was surprised. Even without Skye around they never missed a chance to hurt her.

Rebecca wondered where Skye was. She didn’t have to stretch her imagination far to figure it out though. No doubt she and Mikael were making out somewhere. Either that or she was just finding her next victim — not that she’d ever forget about Rebecca.

Sighing, Rebecca opened the school doors, walking towards the library. She was half an hour early and didn’t have a class for ages. Curling up in a corner with a book sounded like heaven. The library didn’t have great books but any book meant escaping the real world. She could pretend that in no more than an hour she’d be getting shoved into walls. Maybe I’ll get knocked out again, Rebecca thought, resisting rolling her eyes. Before a few days ago, she hadn’t been able to say that she’d been knocked out in a game of dodge ball. Even she had to admit it was creative. Not now though. The novelty of it had worn off.

“You! Girl!”

Rebecca kept walking.

The insistent voice came again, “Stop! Come here!”

The library was almost insight, the doors closed as they always were. Rebecca liked to think that the school did that to protect the books from everyone who didn’t appreciate them but it wasn’t the case. It wasn’t like they had to close them anyway. The name ‘library’ was enough to keep people away. No member of the popular group would ever set foot in the nerd’s domain. It was social suicide.

Someone tapped Rebecca’s shoulder and she whirled around with wide eyes. She barely managed to hold her scream in. The walkway was full of people and Rebecca really didn’t want to draw attention to herself. She’d managed a lucky escape before but for all she knew, Skye could’ve been walking in her direction.

Rebecca met a pair of eyes, so blue they couldn’t be real. Rebecca didn’t say anything, only scanning the person. It was a girl, pretty enough to be a model with her long brown hair. It looked so soft Rebecca wanted to touch but she didn’t because she wasn’t that weird.

The girl shoved something at her and Rebecca fumbled to catch it. It looked like a note but Rebecca couldn’t be sure. “Hi. Can you do me a favour?”

Rebecca blinked. “Um, sure?” she mumbled hesitantly.

The girl smiled and it was blindingly beautiful. Rebecca didn’t recognise her but then again, she wasn’t familiar with anyone in the school. No one talked to her and she talked to no one. It surprisingly wasn’t as boring as it sounded. “Awesome. I need you to keep hold of that envelope and open it at the end of the day when you get home.”

Rebecca stared at the girl, stunned. Was this a prank? Was some going to just around the corner and trip her?

“Hello? Do you speak English?”

No, I don’t. What do you think? “Yes,” Rebecca said, narrowing her eyes at the girl.

“So you understand what I said then?”

“Yes,” she said again. Was this girl serious?

“So you’re just dumb then?”

It was said so casually Rebecca was taken aback. “Excuse me?” she said, more bite in her words than she’d intended. She couldn’t handle all sorts of insults but questioning her intelligence was on a whole other level.

The girl stepped back, arms rising in a show of innocence. “Hey. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry. Just do as I told you.”

“Who gave it to you?” Rebecca asked cautiously.

The girl shrugged, smile back in place. Only not did Rebecca realised it was a forced one. It was unfair though because even her fake smile was perfect. When Rebecca smiled she looked horrible, even worse than usual. “I don’t know. Someone walked by me and said to give it to you.”

“How did you know to give it to me?” Rebecca knew she should walk away before anything else could happen but curiosity — and a little fear — won over.

“They just said the girl with brown hair, by herself. They said a name too — Rebecca. You’re Rebecca right? You have to be. You’re what they described right down to the ugly clothes and emo shirts. You’re ugly too.”

“Oh,” Rebecca mumbled. Either this girl had no filter or she was just trying to be mean. Rebecca figured it was the latter. She wasn’t going to say it but she disagreed with the ‘emo shirt.’ A red shirt wasn’t ‘emo.’ The fact that it had a band on it changed nothing. If it was a shirt with a boy band — the talentless ones with legions of brainwashed twelve year old fans — on it she wouldn’t be called emo. Everyone one would love it.

“You are Rebecca? I don’t want to give the note to the wrong person.”

Rebecca nodded without saying a word.

“Cool. My job is done,” the girl said. Then she walked off.

Rebecca was more than confused. What had just happened? Obviously she’d been given a note but she didn’t know why. Rebecca was tempted to open it now but she had no idea what it was about. She could only think of Skye when she considered the possibility of why. It was probably an embarrassing photo of her or a threat that was secretive. Or maybe it was nothing and someone was playing a joke on her.

Rebecca decided that she wasn’t going to open it. It was better to be ignorant. She’d just ignore it and hope that it wasn’t bad. She didn’t need any other problems at school.

*             *             *

Her plan to leave it unopened went out the window as soon as she got home. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her and now she couldn’t pretend she’d just leave it.

“Why can’t you sit still?” her dad, asked from behind the steering wheel.

Rebecca shrugged. “I’m just hyper, I guess. How was work?”

“Like usual. Your mother’s not too happy though. The case she’s working is going against her and there’s not much more she can do. She’ll win it though. She’s too stubborn to lose.”

“Oh. Is she home?”

He shook his head. “No. She’s staying late to work on the case. Less distractions than at home.” He turned his head, eyes meeting hers. “Just you and me, kiddo.”

Rebecca groaned. “Really? How horrible. I’ll never make it to the end.” She had to force away the smile that wanted cross her face.

Her dad smiled at her. “I know. I’m that bad. How am I going to make it up to you?”

Unable to help herself, Rebecca said, “You could cook for me?” She was only joking even though food sounded like a good distraction.

“I might just have to do that. What do you want?”

“Anything. I’ll make some cookies.”

Her dad laughed in disbelief. “You? Making cookies? I’d like to see that.”

“You wish you could see it. They’ll be the best cookies you’ve ever tasted,” Rebecca said pretty convincingly.

Her dad shook his head with a smile on his face. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to wait because I have homework.” And a note to open.

“You just aren’t brave enough to try.”

“I’ll burn them.” Rebecca smiled sweetly at her dad. “How about you make them? Then at least they’ll be edible.”

“My food is better than edible. That’s you, not me. And you had that planned from the beginning didn’t you? You were manipulating me.”

Rebecca shrugged, not bothering to deny it.

Her dad smiled proudly. “I’ve taught you well. Who knows you might become a great lawyer one day.”

“No way, dad. I want a more exciting job.”

“That’s what you say now.” He stopped the car. “Get out. We’re home. I’ll start on the cookies. You start your homework.”

Guilt started to sink in. “Dad, you don’t have to make cookies. I was joking. You should relax.”

“Stop it. I cook to relax. It’s not bother. Besides, a chocolate coma will do us all good. Your mother is going to need it.”

“Dad . . .”

He glared at her. “Stop, Becca. It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Rebecca let it go, even though she wanted to argue against it. She knew it wasn’t smart and she’d never win an argument with her dad. “Okay.”

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Thank you. You worry too much.”

Rebecca just nodded.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

Her dad parked the car and Rebecca jumped out, walking to the front door. Her dad joined her a minute later and unlocked the door.

Hugging her, he ordered, “Homework. Go.”

Rebecca got the message and went to her room. She’d grab her textbooks and head back to the island bench to do her homework.

But first she had to do something.

Taking the envelope out of her pocket she faltered. Doubt took over. Did she really want to open it? Was it better to just pretend she hadn’t been given the note? What is she regretted opening it? Was it worth running the risk?

This is ridiculous. Where was the harm in looking at it? She was probably just over reacting over something that hadn’t even been meant for her. It was highly likely there was two Rebecca’s in the school. She wasn’t even sure it was meant for her.

Stop. Just do it. Open it.

Steeling herself she opened the envelope, peering in suspiciously. Nothing jumped out which Rebecca was immensely glad for. If a spider was in there she’d have a heart attack. Maybe there was one.

This is getting me no where. Stop thinking of what it could be.

Closing her eyes — it wasn’t the best decision but it made it easier — she reached in. Before Rebecca could second guess herself she grabbed the paper and pulled.

Okay. The easy part is done. Now I just have to look. I can do this.

She opened her eyes and looked down at the paper. It was empty. Confused she turned it the other way, then upside down and then every way she could think off. See? I overreacted. It’s empty. Nothing on the paper. Sighing, she scrunched up the paper, ready the throw it in the bin.

Words caught her eyes and she smoothed the paper back out. Blinking, she checked to see if she was seeing things. She wasn’t.

Check your phone.

What? Rebecca looked all over the paper, checking to see if anything else was written.

There was nothing else. Only those three words.

She weighed her options. Did she look? Or did she ignore the message? I’ve gone this far. There’s no point stopping now.

She realised she had a problem. First, she had to find her phone. She never used it but she knew it was somewhere in her room. After a few minutes she located it. Unlocking it, she had to convince herself to look at it.

One new message.

Rebecca frowned. No one sent her texts except her parents.

Going into the kitchen Rebecca asked, “Dad, did you or mum text me today?”

He looked up from the cookie dough he was mixing. “No. Why?”

Rebecca just shook her head, not giving him an indication of the chill that went up her spine. No one had her number. Fear set in. Someone had gotten her number. How? She tried to play it off as a coincidence but she had to face that it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. There was a note telling her to look at her phone and a text from an unknown number.

She headed back to her room, ignoring her dad’s worried calls. She’d get this over and done with because the longer she waited, the more frightened she’d get.

With shaking hands, she opened her text messages. Her conversations with her parents were there. And another conversation, with an unknown number at the contact. Tapping on the screen, she opened the texts.

Guess who.