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Farah was still screaming. “If you think I’m going to just stand aside and let you leech off Stavros, then you’re crazy. You’ll never have him, you lying, cock-sucking, money-grabbing—-”
She spewed out more insults, sounding more like a ghetto baby than our high school’s Glee Club president. My mind began to drift away, distancing itself from reality. Now would probably be the right time for me to get mad, but I just couldn’t. I was raised by two of the kindest and most intellectual beings on earth. If someone did something shitty to me, my first instinct would be to create a petition against the injustice of that act in Change.org.
For today’s incident, the petition would surely be something like “Say No to Psycho Prom Princesses.”
“In a minute, everyone in this town will know you for the slut that you are. Because I’ve got your fucking diary posted on Wattpad, you whore, and soon everyone will know that even your fucking aunts are whores—-”
Something inside me shut down at her words. “Take that back.”
Farah snarled, “Never!”
“I’m serious, Farah.” All I could suddenly think about was strangling her just so she’d shut up. “Take that back.”
“And if I don’t? What are you going to do? Get your slutty aunts—-”
I snapped.
When the teachers finally managed to drag me away from Farah, all I could think of was -So this was how it felt like to get mad.
****
“YOUR AUNTS HAVE BEENnotified, Ms. Tanner.” Principal Childress’ voice was cold enough to rival the air-conditioning in her office. She was a gray-haired bespectacled woman in her fifties, someone who had been single throughout her life. She could have been just like my aunts, really, except for a huge difference: my aunts hadn’t let their personalities dry out like their still-intact hymens even after all these years.
I thought about asking Principal Childress if I could temporarily leave and borrow a fresh change of gym clothes from the clinic. Stealing a look at her face, which was lined with disapproval, I decided risking hypothermia was the safer option. At least I still had a chance to live.
“...your eye gets better.”
Her words made my eyelids twitch, which was followed by a jolt of pain. Farah’s surprisingly hard right hook would leave me sporting a panda look for a while, but I still got the better deal. At least I wasn’t two-fifths bald.
“...explain what that blog was about?”
It took me more than a moment to realize Principal Childress was talking to me. “Err, sorry, Principal Childress. What was that again?”
She snapped, “I asked if you could explain what that blog of yours is about.”
I shook my head hurriedly, intent on clearing things up. “It’snotmy blog. Everything published there was extracted without permission from my diary, which Farah Jenkins stole—-”
“Ms. Tanner, you misunderstand. I am not asking about how those entries appeared online. What I am most concerned about is the content. What little I’ve read of it is frankly disturbing.” Her voice stiff with disapproval, she continued, “It appears as if your aunts have poisoned your mind from the very start—-”
My mind had shut down after the word ‘poison’. So my aunts didn’t lull me to sleep with regular fairytales from good old Grimm and Andersen. Instead, they had shared with me the most wonderful stories by romance authors who wrote extraordinary love stories about ordinary women falling in love with not-so-ordinary men. How the heck could that be considered poison?
“...making you believe that you must set your sights on an individual of Greek descent—-”
My head was literally whirling. I couldn’t believe how petty this talk was turning out to be. So little girls were allowed to dream about Prince Charming butnotabout Greek billionaires?
Before she could confuse me even more, I blurted out, “I’m afraid I don’t get you at all, Principal Childress. What exactly are you implying? My aunts didn’t tell me the normal bedtime stories, yes, but they didn’t mean any harm when they told me those stories. They were good stories about couples finding true love—-”
“It isnota good story when it inspires a woman to look for a rich benefactor!” Principal Childress shot to her feet, a look of affronted disbelief on her face. “It is not a good story when adults use it as a way of encouraging a child towhoreherself—-”
I shot to my feet too, and this time I knew exactly what was causing me to shake once more. “It wasn’t like that!”
“Then what was that first entry you wrote about? You started it with atipon how totargetGreek billionaires—-”
“There’s nothing wrong about those stories, about my aunts, and there’s nothing wrong about wanting to marry a Greek billionaire!”
Both of us froze.
“You are appalling,” she spat.