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"I'd prefer not to discuss it...!" I dismissed.
"The two girls who came—I think they're twins—they showed me a picture," Kenneth revealed.
"So?"
"A picture of you kissing a guy?" Kenneth exposed, causing my eyes to nearly bulge out of my head.
"What?!"
"I suppose you're not as innocent as you seem...!"
"Don't misunderstand... it wasn't me who kissed him; it was the guy who kissed me," I tried to explain.
"Yeah, right!" Kenneth scoffed.
"I'm serious..."
"That's not what the video said," Kenneth said, a mischievous gleam in his eye as he unlocked his phone to show me the damning evidence. "It's even posted all over the school's platform. In fact, my dear sister, you're going to be damn famous now!"
I looked away, unwilling to lay my eyes on the video that Kenneth was watching on his phone.
"Skye kissed a boy, Skye kissed a boy, Skye kissed a boy!" Kenneth taunted, using those words to provoke me.
"Will you please stop it!" I shouted at him, but he continued his chant.
"No wonder why Tresa's mad. You kissed her boyfriend..."
"Again, I didn't kiss him; it was him who kissed me!" I explained again, but to my brother, it seemed as though he was deliberately ignoring everything I was saying.
"Fine, fine, fine..." Kenneth's voice strained with defensiveness, the words slipping out in a rushed and fragmented manner. He seemed acutely aware that I held the upper hand in our argument. With a swift movement, he grabbed the irritating song he had been incessantly chanting about me, as if erasing it from existence would magically make all my grievances disappear.
A surge of satisfaction and relief coursed through me. "I know, right..." I breathed, my voice tinged with a mix of frustration and exasperation.
Kenneth's eyebrows furrowed, confusion etched into his features. "Is this what you've been struggling to tell me?" he questioned, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.
A sigh escaped my lips, laden with the weight of my inner turmoil and uncertainty. "Well, telling you something like this only serves to amplify my bewilderment," I admitted reluctantly. "And if only you could comprehend the fact that this incident is bound to make my life utterly miserable!"
Kenneth's eyes searched mine, his expression a blend of concern and determination. "It's going to die down eventually, one way or another. You'll see," he reassured me, his voice filled with unwavering conviction.
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Well, that may be true for most people, but not when it comes to my wretched school life. My school is an absolute nightmare," I bitterly admitted, my words laced with resignation. It was true that Kenneth and I attended different schools, a calculated decision made by my understanding mother to spare us both from the agony of facing each other every day in class. Yet, despite my repeated complaints, she remained steadfast and unyielding in her refusal to empathize with my suffering.
If I dare to broach the subject of changing schools with my mother, I can already anticipate the torrent of reprimands that will rain upon me. It is undeniably unjust, particularly when I consider that the sole reason I was granted the opportunity to attend this elite institution is due to a hard-earned scholarship. I am not lacking in intellect, mind you; I obtained a scholarship to enroll in the esteemed "Rosedale Academy for the Wealthy." The very mention of its name evokes widespread recognition and awe. The tuition fees demanded by this establishment are exorbitant, and given the meager means that define my life, can one truly expect my mother to bear the burden of sending me elsewhere should I disclose the torment I endure at the hands of bullies? No, I haven't even bothered revealing my predicament to her, for I understand it would be a fruitless endeavor.
And yet, she possesses the ability to withdraw Kenneth from the hallowed halls of "Rosedale Academy for the Wealthy" without a second thought. It is an intriguing and inequitable situation. If the roles were reversed, rest assured, my mother would swiftly brand me as ungrateful, while lavishing praise upon Kenneth as her model son.
There was something that absolutely drove me insane about "Rosedale Academy for the Wealthy": this school couldn't care less about anything. You could practically get away with anything and they'd still turn a blind eye, but when it came to doling out consequences, it was like a game of Russian roulette. Unpredictable, unfair, and utterly frustrating. And let's not forget about Dax and his little posse, the exceptions to the rule. They seemed to effortlessly slip through the cracks, avoiding any repercussions.
But that wasn't the only thing that rubbed me the wrong way. Oh no, there was something else that made my blood boil: the school's gossip platform, a Twitter account with a following of millions. It was the perfect breeding ground for spreading alleged rumors, a place where judgement was tossed aside and reputations were torn apart with a single tweet. It was toxic, infuriating, and left me feeling utterly disgusted.
This is why I detested my school's platform. They gave it the clever nickname of the "gossip platform," but it was nothing more than a breeding ground for rumors and whispers that spread like wildfire throughout the halls. And now, to my dismay, news of the incident between Dax and me has made its way onto that dreaded page. It's inevitable that I will be thrust into the spotlight upon my return to school. And to make matters worse, I only have a measly two weeks left of my precious school holiday before I am forced to face the storm of gossip that awaits me.
Of course, Tresa, the school's reigning queen bee and fashionista, will not be pleased by this turn of events. Tresa wields immense influence within the school, captivating her millions of followers on Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok. Whatever she wears becomes an instant trend, and I've always admired her ability to command attention effortlessly. However, I am quite content to immerse myself in the pages of books rather than the shallow realm of social media.
It is a relief, in a twisted way, that I am not a part of this digital circus. I will be spared from the incessant barrage of trolls and their hurtful comments that would undoubtedly target me because of this latest gossip. My one solace rests in the hope that my mother remains blissfully unaware of the turmoil surrounding me. And I must also rely on Kenneth to keep his mouth shut for once, for he is privy to the intimate details of the situation.
As if on cue, my mother's persistent knocking on my door pulls me from my thoughts. Kenneth, always attuned to her approaching presence, wastes no time in making his exit. "Why are you leaving?" I can't help but question him, my curiosity getting the better of me.
"I don't know... just go ahead and tell Mom that I'm still asleep," he muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. But in truth, he was wide awake, and then, my mind racing with thoughts and emotions.
