Mandy. An image of one of my new teammates flashes through my mind. Tall. Cheekbones a Kardashian would kill for. Or at least hire someone to kill for. “What about her?”
“There’s only room for four mid-distance runners on varsity.”
“So?”
“There are already four mid-distance runners on varsity.”
Welp. “Not my problem.”
Stacey laughs. Not a pleasant sound. “Oh, yes, it is. Mandy’s the slowest mid-distance runner. If you get on varsity, she’s out. If you knock her out, there’s going to be so. Much. Shit.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t knock Mandy out.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Are your heads so far up Mandy’s ass that you can’t see having me on your team is a good thing?”
“Mandy has dirt on everyone. Everyone. If you get on her shit list, you’re done. You can kiss your scholarship goodbye.”
“And if I don’t make it to varsity, I’m also done. So I appreciate the advice, but I think this conversation is over.”
My entire body is trembling by now.
Luckily, Stacey chooses to leave me alone after that. I sink onto the bench and pat my cheeks. Could’ve sworn they’re on fire. My phone beeps. I struggle to swallow. Only one day and I’ve learned to dread that stupid DD alert. I unlock the screen and tap on the hated icon.
And.
It is so much worse than I expected.
There’s an actual picture of me, talking to Danny outside the cafeteria. Whoever it is has put a blur filter over it so they don’t break any rules, but it’s very clearly me.
Posted by: @SweetNothings
Red alert! Heard the new kid was a total C U Next Tuesday on the track this morning! Grosssss. Why are we letting these people in, you guys?
Reply from: @Flapjackbro
Blame it on the school’s “diversity” push or whatever. #PCpolice
Reply from: @Dollface
Why do we need a diversity push? The student body’s like, literally half Asian. It’s why we need #MAGA.
Reply from: @TrackQueen
Half EAST Asian, morons. Newbie is Southeast Asian. East Asian =/= Southeast Asian. SE Asia is the armpit of Asia, basically. That’s where my fam gets our servants from.
Reply from: @Dollface
Isn’t the whole of Asia the world’s armpit? LOL.
Reply from: @TrackQueen
STFU, white trash.
Reply from: @SweetNothings
Omg so she’s basically a maid like in that #Parasite movie?
Reply from: @TrackQueen
LMAO yesss, basically. Omg, that’s the perfect name for her. Our little Parasite!
Reply from: @SiliconBrains
Uhh, are you all really as stupid as you seem? You’ve completely missed the point of that movie, which is about the rich preying on the poor.
Reply from: @DollFace
Uh, no it’s not. It’s about the servants being parasites, duh. It’s exactly what the new kid’s doing, because she’s totally sucking up all our resources, too cheap to pay her own way here. #Parasite!
Reply from: @TrackQueen
Riiight? Anyway, babies, don’t you worry, #Parasite will be out by midterms, I guarantee it.
The screen blurs, and that’s when I realize I’ve got actual tears in my eyes. I wipe my eyes quickly, stuffing the phone back in my pocket before gathering all my things and running back to the dorm. I can’t face another second in the locker room, knowing my teammates are going to come out of the shower at any moment.
Of course, back at the dorm, everyone’s getting ready for the first class of the day, so there’s a long line for the showers. Damn. At least here there’s a chance people haven’t checked DD—
“That’s her,” someone in the shower line whispers. Eyes turn toward me.
Okay, so everyone’s checked DD. Great. It’s fine. Totally fine. I can stand here, all sweaty, clutching my basket of toiletries, and pretend I can’t hear what they’re saying about me, a.k.a. Parasite. (Seriously, can’t they have at least come up with something more creative?) I’m fine. Sure, I end up sobbing quietly in the shower, but only a little bit.
I can’t face the thought of going to the dining hall all alone, so I stop by the common room to grab a couple of granola bars. There are three girls in there, scrolling through their phones. I recognize one of them as Anya, my next-door neighbor. I give her a hesitant smile, which she ignores, before saying in a loud whisper to her friends, “What is that she’s wearing?”
“Bet she shops at Target,” her friend replies, to which they all laugh.
“Actually, it’s Walmart, so all of you can suck it.” I get a flash of bitter satisfaction at their horrified faces. Then I grab the entire basket of breakfast snacks—muffins, granola bars, little individual boxes of cereal—and march out of there. I dump the basket in my room and rage-eat two entire muffins before my body goes, Pls stop, kthx.
Aaand now I’m stuck with a whole basket of food I can’t possibly go through on my own. Also, I’m pretty sure this counts as stealing? This is so not the fresh start I’d had in mind. I wonder if Beth’s seen the stuff they’re saying about me on DD. Who am I kidding? Of course she has. What will she think? Will she no longer like me? I take the basket back to the common room, which is luckily devoid of Anya and her friends, and plonk it on the table.
All the way to my first class, I catch snatches of whispers and unfriendly stares. Inside my pocket, my phone is constantly buzzing with new replies to the DD post about me. I keep my head down and briskly walk into the building. It’s worse inside the hallway, where the stares are more obvious and I can actually hear what they’re saying about me (nothing nice). Room 2-C, where the heck are you?
My breath comes out in a whoosh when I finally locate the classroom. I just want to sit in the farthest, darkest corner of the room and put up my hood. Except I don’t have a hood, because we’re not allowed to wear hoodies in class. Argh.
Heads pop up meerkat-style when I walk inside the room. I ignore the looks and make my way to the back.
“Ew, do you smell that?” someone says.
Mandy. Oh man. She’s in the same English Lit class as me? Why, universe?
Next to her, a boy with overly gelled hair grins and nods. “I sure do. What is it?” he says, theatrically.
Another boy leans over from behind them and says, “Smells like…some sort of parasite.”
My insides knot so tightly, tighter than they already were, and that’s saying something. With very little effort, I think I could actually puke right in their stupid faces. Do parasites even smell?
Somehow, I manage to make my way past the giggling asshats and fold my leaden body into a chair in the back row. I’m fine. This is fine. The teacher will be here soon, and—
As though thinking about the teacher summoned him, a tall, bespectacled man strides into the classroom. Oh no.
It’s Mr. Werner.
He of the psychopathic smile who watched benignly while Sophie shrieked and struggled.
Okay. Chill.