Page 52 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
Bodies freeze.
I look down and my stomach drops.
A professional camera lies on its side, the lens separated from the body. Pieces of what might be a filter scatter across the polished floor.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
A boy with perfectly styled blond hair crouches down, his face going red as he assesses the damage.
“I’m so sorry,” I gasp, dropping to my knees. “I didn’t see it. I didn’t mean to…”
“Didn’t mean to?” the boy’s voice rises, carrying down the hallway. “Do you have any idea how much this camera costs?”
People are gathering now and forming a circle. I see phones coming out.
“I’ll pay for it,” I stammer, even though I have no idea how. “I’m sorry, I’ll...”
“Who even are you?” he demands, holding up the separated lens like evidence. “I’m the editor of the school paper. I know everyone at this school, but I’ve never seen you before.”
“She’s new.”
The voice comes from behind him. Female and familiar.
Jasper moves out of the way, and my heart sinks.
Jessa. One of the horrible girls from art class who called me a gold digger and a stalker.
“Jasper, this is the girl who’s obsessed with Ryder Hamilton,” Jessa says loudly, making sure everyone can hear. “She lives in his house.”
“Oh, perfect,” Jasper, the school paper editor, says bitterly. “You’re busy chasing after rockstars, and you don’t care who or what gets in your way.”
The crowd laughs. My face burns.
“I’m not… that’s not…” I can’t get the words out.
“She literally stalks his band practices,” Jessa continues. “It’s actually kind of pathetic. Like, take a hint, you know?”
“I don’t…” My voice comes out strangled. “That’s not...”
“She’s already destroyed expensive equipment, Jasper,” Jessa continues. “And now she’s wrecked the school camera. It’s like her thing.”
Phones are pointed at me now, recording. I’m kneeling on the floor, surrounded by broken pieces, while Jessa narrates my humiliation to an eager audience.
“Is that true?” Jasper asks, his expression hardening. “You have a history of destroying things that don’t belong to you?”
“It was an accident,” I whisper, but my voice is too small.
“She’s basically using Ryder for clout,” Jessa says. “Trying to get close to the band and get her name attached to his. Classic gold digger move.”
“That’s not… I would never…”
But the damage is done. The crowd is eating it up, and whispers ripple through the circle.
“Desperate much?”
“Imagine living with a guy and throwing yourself at him like that.”
“No wonder he can’t stand her.”
