Social Suicide

I was panting slightly as I drew to a halt, protecting the ball under my foot, taking the rare, brief moment to scan the field to find an opening. I made a quick, calculated plan: left, dodge number 18, fake right, go left, pass to Alejo, run towards goal and stay open. Good enough.
I got as far as passing to Alejo, before I was suddenly slammed to the ground, tasting blood in my mouth, and pain all down my left side. “Ahh, fuck,” I hissed, as the ref blew his whistle, bring the game to halt. Alejo was already on it, yelling at the guy, a burly, curly haired kid, number 24, in a combination of Spanish and English. God bless that strange little kid.
Charlie got to me first, as I started sitting up, feel slightly nauseous and winded. “Whoa, slow down there Waves,” he said cautiously, kneeling down next to me, grabbing onto my wrist as I slowly sat up, my head throbbing. “That was quite the hit.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered, leaning over and spitting out a mouthful of blood. “Ugh, bit my tongue.”
“Your head okay?”
“What?” I said, reaching up to touch my temple, my fingers came away red. “Oh, double fuck,” I whined. “Where is that asshole? I’m going to kill him.”
“It’s the bench for you, Cooper.” My couch said, walking over. He and Charlie each grabbed an arm and started helping me off the field.
“Don’t I get a penalty? Come on, Coach, I’m fine!”
“Head injury, Waverly, you know the rules,” he said sympathetically. “Charlie can take your shot.”
“And miss, I’m sure.”
Charlie stuck his tongue out at me and smirked. “You wanna bet?”
“Yeah.”
“Just get out there Griener,” Coach snapped, handing me an ice pack as the medic came to put some butterfly bandages on my forehead.
“Aim for the upper left corner,” I called to Charlie.
He gave me the finger.

The restaurant was loud and noisy, not shocking, considering there were 27 rowdy, yelling boys, half of whom were drinking and the other half were sneaking drinks when our coach wasn’t looking. It was our typical celebratory spot, a small Italian place in Baltimore that our team went to whenever we won.
I had a killer headache from my collision earlier, but I was still having fun, squashed in a booth between Alejo and Charlie, with Nicolas, Aiden, and Brian. Charlie had an arm around me, and Alejo was trying to teach us all some Spanish song. I rolled my eyes, and grabbed Charlie’s beer, taking a small sip.
“Hey now,” He said, laughing at me, and attempting to steal his drink back. “No beer for the baby.”
“Oh shut up Charlie,” I laughed. He made a grab for it again, and I instantly chugged it as fast as I could.
He sighed, adjusting his arm around me, pulling me closer, and ruffling my hair.
“Los ninos!” Alejo scolded. “Again, okay? And a uno, and a dos, and tres!”
About halfway through the second chorus, where I had quit trying to sing and instead was dissolving into giggles at Charlie’s horrible baritone, and Aiden’s horrible fake accent, the door to the restaurant opened, and I looked up just in time to catch none other than Alex Gaskarth’s eye. He was with some friends, including Jack, and Rian Dawson, Alex Grieco, Will Hoffman and Jeff Benjamins, and another kid I didn’t recognize.
There was a long awkward moment where we just looked at each other, unsure of how to greet one another, and he seemed to decide on a head flick in my general direction and then proceed to ignore me. I knew he was irritated. He had included, along with the CD, his email address, which I had interpreted as him thinking I would respond immediately and here it was, Sunday afternoon, and I hadn’t even decided what I was going to do.
I watched them all take a seat, and then Alex stood up, heading towards the bathroom. I sighed and nudged Charlie so I could slide out of the booth and then followed him. “Hey, Gaskarth,” I called, and he turned around.
“Coop,” he said evenly.
“I’ll get you a gig.” I said, deciding not to beat around the bush and get to the point.
His face lit up. “Really?!”
I bit the inside of my cheek, “Yeah. Just…give me a day or two to get the papers and stuff together. You and the rest of your band should come over to my house…say, Thursday, and I’ll have the details then.”
For a split second I thought he was going to hug me, and then he seemed to restrain himself and instead just beamed at me. “That’s great Waves-er, Waverly. Thank you so much.”
“Yeah. Okay.” I said, turning to go back to my table.
“Hey, uh, Waverly, what happened to your head?”
“Soccer injury.”
“Oh…is that, like your team or something?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Cool.”
I blinked at him. “Right well…I guess I’ll see you Thursday.”

When I walked into school Monday morning, I instantly knew something was up. People were staring at me more than usual, whispers being exchanged behind hands, laughter following me everywhere, and “whore” written in bright red lipstick on my locker. Apparently, I was once again the center of gossip.
Jen strode straight to me, grabbing my arm without a word and pulling me into the closest girls’ bathroom, the gross one by the art rooms that everyone tried to avoid. “What is going on?” I said, as she quickly checked under the stall doors to make sure no one else was in there.
Jen cocked her head at me. “Apparently you had an orgy at Vito’s restaurant. Wanna talk about it?”
I choked. “Exc-what?”
Jen held up her hands in mock surrender. “That’s what everyone’s saying. And then Hillary McCoy wrote ‘whore’ on your locker, so I figured I better find you before you like, stabbed someone.”
I was literally fuming. “I was there with the team! I’m not even…oh that…that motherfucker.” I seethed, pounding my fist on the sink, as it dawned on me who would have started this rumor.
“What motherfucker?” Jen asked. “Excuse me, private conversation,” she yelled to a girl who walked into the bathroom behind me. “So kindly get the fuck out. Waves, what are you-“
“Gaskarth!” I hissed. “See you later, Jen.” I spun around on my heel and headed back towards the hallway.
“Oh Jesus, don’t kill anyone, please!” Jen called behind me.

“Hey!” I yelled, shoving people out of my way as I made my way to his locker. “Hey! Gaskarth!”
His head shot up, and when he saw me charging towards him, his eyes widened in fear.
“Yeah, you asswipe!” I snarled, shoving one of his friends out of the way. We were about the same height, Alex and I, but under my glare he seemed to shrink a little.
“He-hey Waverly…what’s…”
“Can I have a word?” I snapped. “Alone.”
“Um, yeah, sure.” He said. I stormed off into an empty classroom to the right of his locker and he followed me.
“Did you start that rumor about me?” I demanded.
“What rumor?”
“Don’t play fucking coy, Gaskarth. Did you, or did you not start the rumor that I was having an orgy at Vito’s?!”
He tried to fight back a smile. “Are you kid-“
I shoved him hard and he stumbled back, the smile gone now. “I’m not fucking around! You know what? Fuck you, I’m not helping you or your shitty band!”
“Cooper! Come on, I wouldn’t start a rumor like that!”
“How would I know that? It was either you or one of your friends and I know you know which one it is! So you either tell me or I’ll make sure your band never plays one of my dad’s clubs.”
“Cooper, calm down, it’s just a joke…”
I set my jaw and nodded darkly at him. “Right. Of course. It’s just a joke to you all. It’s just a stupid little rumor. Who gives a fuck right? It’s only about Waverly Cooper, no one gives a shit about her anyway. It’s just that when your reputation is as shitty as mine is, a little innocent joke gets taken seriously and the next thing you know someone spreads rumors that your pregnant and you get called to the Guidance Counselor…but no, it’s just a joke right? Not hurting anyone.”
He looked incredibly guilty. I guess it was Jack who started that rumor after all. “Can you just…okay, fine, you’re right. I’m sorry okay? It was Will.”
“Peachy,” I said darkly, and turned to leave.
“Wait,” he lunged forward and grabbed my arm. I looked at him, disgusted, and shook his hand off of me. “Let me…let me talk to Will, okay? I promise by the end of the day the rumor will be gone.”
“Yeah?” I challenged.
“I promise,” he repeated.
I shook my head. “Sorry, Gaskarth, but I’m not your fucking damsel in distress, and I sure as hell don’t trust a single word you say. Fuck off.” I left that time, and he didn’t try to stop me.
I considered skipping. I wanted to. I was so tired of putting up with this shit. Yes, it was a stupid rumor, and an unbelievable one at that, but people were just so stupid, they’d believe anything. I should have known better. Thinking I could slip through the school year with minimal hate pointed my way. But there was never a new scapegoat. There were new scandals, but in the end, it was always me, and I always had to fight back to prove they wouldn’t win.
So instead, I took a deep breath and went back into the halls, and I snapped at the people staring, and I wiped the disgusting words off my locker, and I rejected the condoms and the safe sex talk Vice Principal Mrs. Skinner tried to press on me during my study hall, and I told off a group of junior girls calling me a pathetic skank, and I accepted my detention from that without complaint, because what was the point. By lunch, I was exhausted and I felt weaker than I had in a long time. The fact that I slipped up in front of Alex Gaskarth, letting how upset I was show, made me even more furious at myself.
Jen was quiet during lunch, except to yell at people to “stop fucking staring” or to “take a goddamn picture, why don’t you” and then she’d look at me and say “this will all blow over, Wavy, you’ll see”. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that yes, this incident? It would blow over. But there would be another, and another, and another…
“Waverly?”
I looked up to see Will Hoffman, the supposed rumor spreader himself, and Jack Barakat standing by my table.
“Get the...hell away from me, Will.”
“I…” he glanced at Jack, who nodded at him, and then back at me, licking his lips nervously. “I just wanted to apologize for uh…spreading that lie about you this morning.”
“Oh,” I said and I smiled brightly. “Oh, it’s no problem, Will!”
“Really?” He said hopefully.
I dropped the smile from my face. “No, fuckwad. Talk to me again and I’ll cut off your junk, got it?”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“Good for you. Leave me alone.”
Will glanced at Jack again, who shrugged, and Will took that as his opportunity to go back to his table.
“So,” Jack said happily. “That sure was nice of him, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, he’s a regular Mother Teresa, that Will.”
“Well, now that that’s all solved, I’m guessing I’ll see you Thursday to talk about our gig, right?”
“Oh my god.” I said, anger flaring up in me again. “Get out of my face!”
Jack wasn’t to be deterred. “Come on Cooper, you know our music is panty dropping good, alright?”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Thursday, then!” Jack said smiling widely. “You ladies have a fabulous lunch.” He waved and skipped back over to his table on the other side of the cafeteria.
“You know?” Jen said, watching him thoughtfully. “I think I really hate that kid.”