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At first, she thought her account had been hacked. She had over fifty e-mails.
Then she’d started recognizing the names of fellow students.
Taylor. Heather. A few others, all from that crowd.
Her throat still felt tight, thinking about it. She’d clicked on one.
It was a picture of her, pinned on that chaise lounge, but the photo had been doctored. Now it looked like she was completely naked.
Bad enough. But the next one was from Ryan Stacey. The subject line said, Bring back memories?
She expected another dirty picture, but it was a link to a newspaper article about a fire Saturday night, at some town house community across town. Four homes, destroyed. Almost everyone had gotten out without injuries, but a young woman had been trapped and badly burned before she was rescued.
There was a picture.
Layne clicked for the next e-mail, before her brain could register the damage.
The next e-mail had obviously been passed around before coming to her account, because she had to scroll through nu-merous LOLs before getting to another photo of herself on the chaise lounge. But she was on fire, her face a Photoshopped image of a charred dog’s head.
And in the e-mail chain, a message from Kara, saying how hysterical it was.
Layne had yanked the computer plug out of the wall.
And then she’d run to the bathroom to throw up.
The horse sidestepped away from the brush, and Layne snapped back to the present. She’d been pressing too hard.
She abandoned the currycomb for a bristle brush, flicking the dirt and loose hairs into the aisle, making the animal’s red coat truly shine.
A knock sounded against the wood planks at the end of the aisle, and she jumped, then placed a hand on her horse’s shoulder to steady him when he snorted. No one ever came out this early. It was barely six in the morning.
A figure stood at the other end of the barn, in the wide doorway, backed by sunshine, so she couldn’t make out who it was.
She set down the brush. “Hello?” she called. “Can I help you?”
“Layne?”
Her step faltered and then the clouds shifted, just a little, enough so she could recognize Gabriel standing at the end of the barn.
It sent her heart dancing with a skip and a flutter. She hadn’t heard from him since Saturday, of course, because she’d practically been on house arrest. Really, she hadn’t been sure how she’d face him, after the things her father had said.
But now, seeing him here, she almost fell over her own feet trying to get down the aisle. He was wearing running shoes again. Shorts and a dark hoodie. His face was a bit flushed, his eyes dark with the sun at his back.
It wasn’t just that he was here. He’d run. How many miles had he said? Four?
But then she realized he wasn’t coming toward her. He wasn’t smiling. He was just standing there, that tense, inscrutable expression on his face.
She stopped short, trying to get her breath and heartbeat to settle into a steady rhythm. She stared up at him, wondering if he hated her now, if her father’s words had ruined everything, if she’d be starting school today without a single ally. Or maybe it was those e-mails.
Maybe he’d seen. Maybe he’d reconsidered.
She was a freak.
An outcast.
Only now, she wasn’t hidden. Her secrets were out there, for the whole world to see.
For a horrifying moment, she worried she was going to throw up again.
