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The video can’t be on the internet. Everyone has access to the internet. Anyone can see that video and see me in it and know where I am. And I bet Ethan hasn’t even restricted the privacy settings.
“Amelia, calm down,” Aiden says slowly, concern on his face.
Actually, everyone at the table is looking at me like Aiden is, their faces full of concern. What’s their problem? Why do I feel dizzy? Oh, I’m hyperventilating.
“Amelia? Don’t worry about the video. You look great in it, and it embarrasses Kaitlyn. She probably hasn’t seen it yet that’s why—ohh. You’re scared Kaitlyn’s going to see it and go ballistic?” Noah assumes.
Everyone takes Noah’s assumption and runs with it, talking at once.
Mason: “She won’t do anything, I promise.”
Annalisa: “If she tries something, we’ll kick her ass.”
Chase: “We’ll make sure you’re not alone.”
Charlotte: “She probably won’t even see it.”
Noah: “I better be there for the drama this time!”
Julian: “She won’t confront you again.”
“I don’t care about Kaitlyn!” I snap.
Around me, concerned expressions turn into looks of confusion.
“Okay,” Charlotte starts slowly. “What’s wrong, then? We’ll fix it.”
I freeze, realizing that I’m overreacting, which would betray at least some of the secrets I’m trying to keep. Honestly, they don’t know that it’s not just a video of me looking fierce and telling off Kaitlyn—they don’t know what’s at risk. My friends think this video is a good thing; another weapon in our arsenal to slight Kaitlyn.
But I don’t care about how I look in the video. I don’t care that Kaitlyn looks ridiculous. All I care about is that my face and voice are clear as day, for anyone to identify. Honestly, my phone is void of selfies, and I haven’t taken a picture of myself in nearly a year, nor let anyone else take one either. This petty high school drama can’t screw everything up.
But I can’t tell them that as they look at me expectantly.
“Oh . . .” I need to find Ethan Moore. Now. “You know, what’s posted online haunts you forever. I don’t want some future employer to find this video and not hire me because they think I’m some bitchy drama queen who has a fascination with glitter.”
I’m rambling, not even fooling myself. Six pairs of eyes blink at me. The seventh pair narrows at me. Stop analyzing me, Aiden. I’ll think of some better excuse later. My first priority is to find Ethan.
Standing up abruptly, I hastily collect my lunch, throwing my barely touched sandwich away. “I gotta pee, so I’ll see you later.”
Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I hurriedly start to leave without any further explanation. I get about halfway to the exit before realizing that I have no idea who the hell Ethan Moore is or how to find him. I pause midstep, do a one-eighty, and crash into the people behind me.
“Sorry,” I mumble to the pissed off line of disgruntled students behind me, and book it back to our lunch table. “Quick question, what does Ethan Moore look like?”
My friends look at me like I’ve completely lost my mind.
Chase says, “He’s a junior. Long black hair to his shoulders.”
“Here.” Annalisa turns her laptop to show me his Facebook profile picture.
I memorize the picture and turn back around without another word, on a mission to find Ethan. There’s only twenty minutes left of lunch, so, with no time to waste, I march down the hall. Chase told me that he’s a junior, so I stop the first people I recognize as juniors in the hall.
“Do you know Ethan Moore?”
About ten other kids give me the same blank stare before I end up at the right group. “Yeah,” says a kid with a shaved head and braces.
He doesn’t offer any more information. I stand there, nodding with my head to prod him to continue. The kid stares at me.
“And I can find him where?”
