Page 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

When I wake, my head feels thick, and my brain is a sloth. I stretch over the edge of the bed, as far as my body will go without tipping onto the floor, then reach my arm forward. My fingers just barely brush the edge of my phone as it lays on my dresser. I catch it with the tips of my nails a couple times until I pull it toward me enough to grasp the edge. Panting from the effort, I realize it would have been less work if I’d just gotten up and grabbed it, and hopped back into bed.

I growl when I find it turned off.

It isn’t until the phone powers up and my notifications explode that I remember everything from the night before. I drop my phone and bury my head under my pillow, already too exhausted to deal with the fallout.

My phone rings and my hand automatically reaches for it. But I pause. Do I want to answer it? With a groan, I unbury my head and pick up my phone. But I don’t recognize the number, so I send it to voicemail.

I stare up at my ceiling, trying to figure out how to handle my new and unusual situation. My phone seems pleasantly quiet, so I open the screen and my eyes bug out. I have twenty-five voicemails, over one hundred text messages, and—

Over one thousand Instagram notifications? What on earth?

I can’t stop my thumb from opening the app. There are so many notifications to page through, but from a quick glance—because I’m still too afraid to look at things too closely—it looks like someone tagged me in a post. A scan of the comments indicates someone tagged me in the video. Great. My eyes catch on some comments as I do a fast scroll through my notifications. Comments such as “girl power,” “you tell ‘em, honey,” and “effing can’t.”

Oh, that isn’t “can’t”.

I panic scroll away from the horrible word. That’s exactly why I don’t want to pay too close attention to anything surrounding this.

There’s a pounding on my bedroom door just before it flies open and Ava and Bek barge into my room.

“Why haven’t you answered our texts or phone calls?” Ava’s scanning me like she’s looking for a mortal wound or some other reason I’ve ignored them.

I close out of Instagram and show them my phone screen. As they scan from app to app, their eyes bug further.

“Holy smokes, Sam,” Bek whispers.

It’s a testament to how utterly bizarre the situation is when Bek crawls up onto the bed and sits cross-legged, facing me. Both Ava and I gape at her. I must look to confirm the bubble chair is still in my room.

Ava recovers first and looks at me, “It’s mostly super positive, though.”

I tell her the comment I just happened to see even when I wasn’t looking. Bek curls her lip and Ava physically leans away.

“That’s such a horrible word,” she says. “But you don’t have to worry about those people. There will always be people like that. Just focus on those copycat videos. They’re so inspiring.”

Bek nods, tears shimmering in her eyes. “So inspiring.”

“I’m so proud of you, Sam.” Ava plops onto the bed and wraps her arms around me. “You can’t help but be a leader.”

I squint between her and Bek. “What are you talking about?”

Eyes still shimmering, Bek’s smile is incandescent. “All those girls who saw you stand up to your abusers and felt inspired to do the same. It’s the new #metoo movement.”

“You even have a hashtag!” Ava enthuses.

“What are you guys talking about?” I ask again.

But Ava is frowning at me. “Wait, isn’t that what you were wearing last night?”

Bek leans forward and takes my hand. She’s staring me intently in the eye. “You’ve been crying.”

I honestly can’t keep up with the conversation. I decide to answer Bek first. “I cried myself to sleep last night. I was feeling…a lot, after that whole thing and my phone blowing up. Lana Taylor sent me the link to the video and…” I shrug. “It was a lot.”

Suddenly, both girls are squishing me between them, cooing like they’re calming a toddler having a tantrum. But the best friend hug feels so good, I just let them coo. When they’ve finally had enough and back away, I ask, “So what about copycats?”

Ava startles and tugs her phone out of her pocket. “Haven’t you seen them?”

“No, I’ve been avoiding diving too deep into the responses. I just don’t want to hear what an entitled b-word I am or that kind of stuff.”

Bek pats my knee. “There is some of that, of course. Like Ava said, there will always be douchebags. ”

I laugh, because Bek just said douchebags. I think that’s the first bad thing she’s ever said about anybody.

Her smile is wry. “But there is far too much good happening for you to ignore.”

Ava hands me her phone with a video loaded. It isn’t playing yet. A girl sits on the floor of her bedroom. The image is poorly lit. Her unmade bed is behind her. It’s a strange camera angle too, like she propped her phone against something to record herself. The title of the video is #NoMoreShame. Seeing that sends a thrill through me. I look up at Ava and Bek, and they both nod for me to watch.

I take a deep breath and tap the video.

“I just watched the Samantha Jones video. The reason I’m sitting alone in my room on a Saturday night is because the same thing that’s been happening to Samantha has happened to me.”

The video is only four minutes and twenty-eight seconds long, but at the end, tears are rolling down my face and I’ve smashed my fingers against my lips so that I don’t sob. Her story is so much worse than mine. Her bullies are mean and clever and far more ruthless, but I can see her spine straighten and her chin tilt up as she speaks. It’s so obvious that telling her story has helped her to regain some of her self-esteem.

I stare at the screen long after the video has ended. I pick up my phone and open the video app and look up the same video on my own phone. Then I leave a comment.

SocialSam: Your beautiful spirit shines through your ugly story. Thank you for sharing it with us and for helping to empower more, like us, who have been shamed.

The words aren’t strong enough. I want her to know the awe I feel for her bravery. My story ended up online because someone else shared it. I would never have enough courage to put it out there on my own. I hit the submit button and wipe my tears.

“Okay girls.” I run my hands through my knotted hair and swipe away yesterday’s crusty makeup. “We’re going to find every dang one of these #NoMoreShame videos and leave an encouraging comment from my account.”

“Just need your login deets.” Bek’s already in the app as if she knew what I’d do next.

“Do you both have the day off?” I look at them with surprise.

Ava smirks. “Called in sick.”

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world,” I say. And I mean it. My life has suddenly blown up and my two favorite people on the planet are at my side, helping me to rebuild.