Read Online #Scandal by Sarah Ockler - Free Book Online
Authors: Sarah Ockler
Facebook profile, tagging them so they’d show up on Miss Demeanor’s page for the #scandal contest.
It’s one thing for people to post their own dumb stunts.
But whoever did this made it look like I posted them, and Jayla’s right. It’s not cool.
71
I click through the photos with shaking hands. Funnel-ing? Strip poker? The vampire bros smoking out of a . . .
What is that contraption? Who the hell let Prince Freckles into the living room, and why is Margo Hennessy making out with him?
The album has already been shared and reposted dozens of times. Hundreds, maybe, everything tagged to Miss Demeanor’s page, the damning shots mixed in with pictures from earlier in the night—ones I do remember: John in the pond. The blinged-out gym. Group poses in front of the party Hummer. Cole nervously pinning my corsage the first time. Paul sucking on Griff’s earlobe in my front yard, one hand creeping on her boob. My parents sitting in the party Hummer, just for fun.
And then my heart sinks.
Kiara, posing with Prince Freckles.
See no (e)VIL, photograph no (e)VIL! What Kiara’s friends don’t know won’t hurt them . . . but it might get the little traitor kicked out of her favorite club! #scandal I promised her I wouldn’t say anything, and now it looks like I broadcast it to the whole school.
“Explains why you’re all death-warmed-over tonight,” Jayla says.
I click to the next incriminating shot. Me and Marceau on the deck.
72
“Yum.” Jayla raises her brows, suddenly more impressed than accusatory. “Well played, little sister.” Doing my best to maintain international relations, ooh-la-la!
Despite this passionate embrace, Marceau’s lips were no match for my date, Cole Foster! #scandal
I blink back tears, my throat tight and dry, fingers trembling.
Click.
Worst fears.
Confirmed.
Me and Cole, standing beneath the stars, lips locked in a half-second, totally accidental, three-hundred-percent mistake of a kiss.
Click.
Ellie’s black cherries dress draped over the end of Cole’s bed, pink wings casually tossed on top.
Click.
A bare foot. Two. Four. My hair spilled across the pillow. And Cole’s arms wrapped around me tight, our bodies an indiscernible tangle beneath a knot of dark green sheets.
Who needs costumes to create such magical, mythical memories? #scandal
73
FRECKL ES Pll E ADS THE FIF TH
MISS DEMEANOR
2,742 likes C
601 talking about this
Monday, April 28
Good Monday morning, fishies! How y’all feeling?
Here’s a tip: water. Lots of it. Your still-throbbing heads will thank me!
In the time-honored tradition of prom-goers since humans first crawled out of the pond with the dinosaurs (and/or appeared on the earth exactly seven days after it came into existence four thousand years ago, give or 74
take, depending on your beliefs, all of which I publicly support while whispering about you behind closed laptops), many of you undoubtedly engaged in a few rites of passage this weekend. Before we continue, please join me in a moment of silence to mourn the collective loss of innocence.
. . .
Bee-tee-dubs, two thumbs up on keeping your names out of the police blotter, kids! Always a proud moment when my esteemed Lav-Oaks colleagues avoid embarrassing legal trouble (and associated fees). Trust me on this little nugget: The last thing Mommy and Daddy want to do is dip into your college fund for bail money. Awkward for everyone, please pass the hard lemonade!
While we’re on the not-entirely-unrelated topics of hard lemonade and awkward shit your parents don’t know about, thanks for oversharing those delectable prom and party pics! We have our work cut out for us as we try to determine the most #scandal–worthy moments.
The girls lacrosse team dancing in their underwear and dragon wings at Red Rocks? The entire prom court 75
tossing their collective cookies on the steps of the state capitol building? Ms. Zeff, out-jousted by the physics club president? Like I always
It’s one thing for people to post their own dumb stunts.
But whoever did this made it look like I posted them, and Jayla’s right. It’s not cool.
71
I click through the photos with shaking hands. Funnel-ing? Strip poker? The vampire bros smoking out of a . . .
What is that contraption? Who the hell let Prince Freckles into the living room, and why is Margo Hennessy making out with him?
The album has already been shared and reposted dozens of times. Hundreds, maybe, everything tagged to Miss Demeanor’s page, the damning shots mixed in with pictures from earlier in the night—ones I do remember: John in the pond. The blinged-out gym. Group poses in front of the party Hummer. Cole nervously pinning my corsage the first time. Paul sucking on Griff’s earlobe in my front yard, one hand creeping on her boob. My parents sitting in the party Hummer, just for fun.
And then my heart sinks.
Kiara, posing with Prince Freckles.
See no (e)VIL, photograph no (e)VIL! What Kiara’s friends don’t know won’t hurt them . . . but it might get the little traitor kicked out of her favorite club! #scandal I promised her I wouldn’t say anything, and now it looks like I broadcast it to the whole school.
“Explains why you’re all death-warmed-over tonight,” Jayla says.
I click to the next incriminating shot. Me and Marceau on the deck.
72
“Yum.” Jayla raises her brows, suddenly more impressed than accusatory. “Well played, little sister.” Doing my best to maintain international relations, ooh-la-la!
Despite this passionate embrace, Marceau’s lips were no match for my date, Cole Foster! #scandal
I blink back tears, my throat tight and dry, fingers trembling.
Click.
Worst fears.
Confirmed.
Me and Cole, standing beneath the stars, lips locked in a half-second, totally accidental, three-hundred-percent mistake of a kiss.
Click.
Ellie’s black cherries dress draped over the end of Cole’s bed, pink wings casually tossed on top.
Click.
A bare foot. Two. Four. My hair spilled across the pillow. And Cole’s arms wrapped around me tight, our bodies an indiscernible tangle beneath a knot of dark green sheets.
Who needs costumes to create such magical, mythical memories? #scandal
73
FRECKL ES Pll E ADS THE FIF TH
MISS DEMEANOR
2,742 likes C
601 talking about this
Monday, April 28
Good Monday morning, fishies! How y’all feeling?
Here’s a tip: water. Lots of it. Your still-throbbing heads will thank me!
In the time-honored tradition of prom-goers since humans first crawled out of the pond with the dinosaurs (and/or appeared on the earth exactly seven days after it came into existence four thousand years ago, give or 74
take, depending on your beliefs, all of which I publicly support while whispering about you behind closed laptops), many of you undoubtedly engaged in a few rites of passage this weekend. Before we continue, please join me in a moment of silence to mourn the collective loss of innocence.
. . .
Bee-tee-dubs, two thumbs up on keeping your names out of the police blotter, kids! Always a proud moment when my esteemed Lav-Oaks colleagues avoid embarrassing legal trouble (and associated fees). Trust me on this little nugget: The last thing Mommy and Daddy want to do is dip into your college fund for bail money. Awkward for everyone, please pass the hard lemonade!
While we’re on the not-entirely-unrelated topics of hard lemonade and awkward shit your parents don’t know about, thanks for oversharing those delectable prom and party pics! We have our work cut out for us as we try to determine the most #scandal–worthy moments.
The girls lacrosse team dancing in their underwear and dragon wings at Red Rocks? The entire prom court 75
tossing their collective cookies on the steps of the state capitol building? Ms. Zeff, out-jousted by the physics club president? Like I always
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