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I quirk my lip. “I think he asked me. I’m not entirely sure.”
I glance at her screen and the blood drains from my face. “Who did this?” I ask.
Stephanie shrugs. She tries to take the phone back, but I pull away.
“Ninety-seven comments?” I exclaim. “And almost nine hundred likes? Has the entire school seen this?”
“Judging by the high numbers, I would think yes,” she says, grinding her teeth together.
I stare at the snapped picture. My own face smiles back at me and I want to punch that stupid grin. Someone posted a picture of me, using one of those dumb filters to look like I’m wearing a sparkly crown. Surrounded on either side by three red hearts are the words:
Wanted: One prom date.
Help turn the vom queen into the prom queen!
If you’re looking for a guaranteed good time,
ask Emma Carpenter.
“Who originally posted this? Do people thinkIposted this ad?”
Stephanie’s eyes are wide. “I don’t know.”
“I look totally thirsty! Like I’m trying to sell myself!” My phone number is even listed at the end of the ad. No wonder so many boys had pity on me.
I click on the comments and begin scanning over people’s responses.
“Wow, talk about desperate”
“LMAO”
“How did she get nominated?!”
“Cringe”
“Vom queen strikes again”
I shove the phone back at Stephanie and move toward the front doors as fast as I can. Stephanie runs after me. It feels like everyone is watching me. I rush toward Stephanie’s car and climb in. I pull my jacket over my face and tell her to drive. My breathing is ragged as I try and suck in air. My chest feels tight and my head is spinning.
I kick at the dashboard and the glovebox flies open.
“I’m not sure he deserved that,” Stephanie says.
Once we’re far enough away from the school, I pull my jacket down and scream. “Who would. . . ?”
“I don’t know,” Stephanie whispers.
“But why?”
Stephanie glances at me. “I don’t know who placed the ad or why. Maybe it was someone genuinely trying to help. Or maybe it was someone being spiteful and trying to embarrass you. Take some deep breaths.”
I do as she says.
We sit in silence for several minutes, while I try and gain composure. Then Steph says, “I just had a thought.”
“What’s that?”
“Maybe you should just play along with it,” she says.
