Page 26 of Break Point
I glance up at him in time to catch the start of his laughing fit. He’s loving this. I shake my head and return to the screen.
“What’s their hashtag?” Walker asks.
I find it a second later.
“Hashtag Braden,” I answer in a wry tone. “Not very original.”
“Yeah, but kind of a sucky time to be a guy named Braden,” Walker snort laughs.
Fair.
“These comments are giving me life,” Ashton says through his teetering laughter.
I hand Walker his phone back and turn my attention to my own eggs. If these assholes want their breakfasts to get cold, that’s on them.
“Here’s a good one,” Walker says, clearing his throat before continuing. “This girl’s name is Macy, and she’s pretty hot, by the way.”
I glance over my shoulder but not fully at him.
“‘Bryson Moss is quite literally the reason to be on this app. I signed up and liked his profile in seconds. If only—’ Oh, uh . . .”
Walker’s sudden pause extends for several seconds, so I crane my neck to get him in view. His eyes are scanning his phone as his mouth hangs open. I flip my eggs, then turn around to face him.
“If only what?” I ask.
My friends exchange glances, and something about the way they’ve tucked their mouths into sudden straight lines doesn’t sit well in my gut. I continue to glare at them for a few seconds, but when it’s clear they’re not going to clue me in, I grab my phone again and scroll to the post so I can search for the comment myself. It takes me a minute or two to find Macy’s remark. And I get what has Walker stalled within seconds.
If only he wasn’t already matched with that bitch.
I suck in my top lip as my thumb hovers over Macy’s name, then her use of that word. I swipe to the right and click the option to report her comment, but it feels like an empty act. The next comment is from one of our freshman linemen, Louis. It’s not as bluntly insulting, but it’s definitely not flattering.
If things don’t work out with Bryson, I’ll take his sloppy seconds.
Yeah. Maybe it’s just as bad. Not every comment is like that. Most are positive about the app, and of course there are a few trolls making fun of the app and calling it a waste of “Daddy’s money.” My sister anticipated that. But the hate on Jaden? That’s not something I expected, and I doubt Amelia did.
Or Jaden.
Who is probably reading these same comments now.
The unpleasant stench of burned eggs hits my nose about a half second before our smoke alarm goes off. I toss my phone to the side and pull the smoking pan from the stovetop. My eggs are burned rubber disks at this point, so after running the entire thing under the faucet, I toss them into the trash and pop the pan in the dishwasher.
Ashton has wandered in for his plate, but rather than picking it up, he nudges it toward me and utters, “Take mine.” His eyes remain glued on his phone as he snags a piece of bacon, then slides on his socks back to his chair.
“How bad is it?” I don’t know if I want to read more comments if they’re anything like the few I read.
Walker glances up at me for a moment, then drops his gaze back to his phone as he shakes his head.
“Girls are mean,” Ashton says.
“Men are assholes,” Walker adds.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath before picking up my phone and enduring about a dozen more comments before closing my social app and deleting it from my phone.
Not a single comment dissed me. Maybe one or two poked fun of me for needing an app to score with girls, but that’s not really taking a shot at a dude. The running commentary on Jaden, however, ranged from jealousy because I picked her before I had someone better to choose from to jokes about her curly red hair. More than a few people called her Little Mermaid, and some I think meant it as a weird kind of compliment. The worst, though, were the single words that can only be meant to cut her down.
Ugly. Fat. Chunky. Pale. Loser. Dog. Skank.
There were a lot of repeats, and none of them were okay. It’s one thing to bust balls with your friends, but these were strangers ripping apart one of this school’s best athletes. Without knowing a thing about her.
