Klara's POV
The Slap came so suddenly that for a second, I didn't even feel it. I only heard it.
It echoed across the cafeteria, silencing conversations one table at a time.
I stood frozen.
The girl in front of me was breathing hard, her hand still suspended between us.
“You knew he had a girlfriend.”
My cheeks began to burn. “What?”
She laughed bitterly. “ Don't act confused, Klara.”
Around us, chairs scraped against the floor, phones appeared, people turned their seats whispering my name.
Of course they did, it was always my name.
I stared at the girl. I knew her face, but I couldn't remember ever having spoken to her.
“I honestly don't know what you are talking about.” I replied, trying to stay as calm as possible.
“Oh you don't?”
“No”.
She shoved her phone close to my face. “Then explain this”.
I looked at the screen and my stomach dropped. It was a picture of me standing outside the university library beside a boy. His hand was resting on my waist, my face was turned towards him and I was smiling. From that picture alone, it looked intimate.
Too intimate.
But I knew what had actually happened.
“This isn't what it looks like.”
She scoffed. “Of course it isn't”
“He was upset.”
“And you are the new Jesus that comforted him?”
“Yes.”
“By standing like that?”
I looked at the photograph again. The picture had been taken from an angel that made everything look worse.
I remembered that afternoon, the boy in the picture was Daniel, someone from my biostatistics class. His mother had been hospitalized, he called me because he didn't know who else to talk to.
I hugged him and that was all. But someone captured three seconds of it. Three seconds had become a story.
“You don't know what happened,” I said.
“I know enough Klara.”
“No you don't.”
The girl stepped closer. “You've always been like this.”
My stomach turned. “Like what?”
“Always around somebody's boyfriend because no guy thinks ur worthy enough to date you.”
A few people laughed. I looked around the cafeteria, nobody looked uncomfortable and nobody looked shocked. They were only watching, enjoying it. The worst part wasn't the slap anymore, it was the familiarity.
I'd seen this before, the looks, the whispers and the assumptions. People who had never spoken to me decided they knew me better than I knew myself.
“I haven't done anything to you” I said quietly.
“You've done enough to everyone else.”
My fingers curled at the strap of my bag.
“Then tell me what I have done.”
She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Because she didn't know. She had heard something or people told her something and somehow, that had been enough.
“Exactly.” I whispered
Her expression hardened. “You think you are better than everyone.”
“No.”
“You always act innocent.”
“I'm not acting.”
Someone behind her muttered, “here we go again.”
Another voice followed. “She's always doing this.”
My throat tightened, I just wanted to disappear. Instead I straightened my shoulders.
“I don't owe any of you an explanation.”
The girl laughed. “That's because you don't have one.”
She turned away and the crowd immediately started talking.
I stood there for another second, then I picked up my bag and walked. I didn't run, I refused to give them that.
But by the time I pushed through the cafeteria doors, my eyes were burning.
I made it half way down the corridor before someone grabbed my wrist and I spun around.
“Don't…”
“It's me.”
“Mathilda.” I exhaled.
She looked furious. “What happened?”
“She slapped me.”
“I saw.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“Because I wanted to hear it from you.”
“Apparently I am sleeping with somebody else's boyfriend.”
Mathilda’s expression changed.
“Daniel?”.
I nodded.
“He wasn't even my boyfriend.”
“I know.”
“He was upset.”
“I know.”
“Then why does everyone believe this?”
Mathilda didn't answer immediately and the silence hurt more than I expected.
“Because they already had a story about you” she finally said.
I stared at her, her expression softening.
“Klara…”
“I know.” I looked down at my phone because it was vibrating nonstop.
Notifications, messages, mentions and tags. I didn't open any of them though.
“What if I just leave?.”
“Where?.”
“Anywhere”.”
“Klara people can talk and people will talk, who you listen to is what matters.”
“But everyone thinks I am a horrible person.”
Mathilda shook her head. “We both know you are not a horrible person so let them think.”
“It hurts Tilda.” My eyes were burning
“I know, baby.”
“and I can't even cry” she started sobbing too.
“I know…I know but I am here with you”
But sometimes knowing I had someone there for me didn't make it hurt any less.
I cleaned my face and we eventually went to class although I didn't want to but I did.
The moment I entered the lecture hall, the room seemed to pause.
There it was again….that look, that awful knowing look.
I walked towards an empty seat and heard a whisper behind me.
“That's her”
Another voice replied. “The one who got slapped?”
I sat down, my hands were trembling. I opened my notebook then a folded piece of paper landed beside it.
I stared at it and slowly opened it.
“How many guys have you fucked this semester?”
My face went hot, I crumpled it. Someone laughed behind me then the lecturer walked in.
“Good morning.” The class responded.
I tried to listen but I couldn't. My mind kept going back to the picture. Who had taken it? Who had posted it? Why now?
“Miss Addams?”
I looked up.
The lecturer was staring at me. “Yes sir?”
“Would you please answer the question?”
I glanced at the board with my mind blank. A few students laughed
Then a quiet voice came from beside me.
“Twenty four.”
I looked sideways.
A guy was sitting two seats away. He was tall with a calm expression, had dark hair and nothing seemed to faze him.
“Twenty four.”
The lecturer nodded.
“Correct.”
I exhaled.
The guy smiled faintly. “You're welcome.”
I looked at him and mouthed a thank you.
“When the class ended, I packed my things quickly. I wanted to leave before anyone could say anything else.
I had just reached when I heard….
“Klara”
I turned. The guy from class was walking towards me. He was holding something…. My pen.
“You dropped this.”
I took it and turned to leave.
“Please wait.”
I looked back.
“I'm Raphael.”
I hesitated.
“Klara.”
“I know.”
“Of course you do.”
“I didn't mean it like that.” His smile faded lightly
“I didn't mean it like that.”
“Oh really?”
He looked at me intently before replying. “I've heard your name.”
“Everyone has…please don't talk to me I don't want further problems.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because apparently I'm trouble.”
He only narrowed his eyes, studying me.
“I don't usually make decisions about people I've never met.”
I didn't know what to say.
He smiled. “See you tomorrow Klara.”
I walked away. I had almost reached the stairs when I heard someone behind him.
“Raphael.” I glanced back. A guy from his friend group approached him and he looked at me then at Raphael.
“You're talking to her?”
Raphael's expression changed slightly. “Yeah.”
“You know who she is right?”
Raphael didn't answer immediately. His friend shook his head.
“Bro seriously.”
I waited.
Then Raphael said quietly, “I know who people say she is.”
His friend laughed. “Exactly and you should listen to them.”
I turned around before I could hear anything else.
My phone vibrated, an unknown number popped up and I opened the message.
You should stop pretending.
Another message appeared.
The next rumor won't be so easy to explain.
I stared at the screen, my heart quickened. This wasn't random and this was definitely beyond mere gossip. Someone was warning me.
I looked back toward the lecture hall and Raphael was still there. For some reason, I wondered if the message had anything to do with him.
I locked my phone, I didn't know who was behind the rumors, I didn't know what they wanted and I certainly didn't know why a boy I met less than an hour ago had suddenly become part of the problem.
But one thing was painfully clear, at Brookshire University, people didn't need to know the truth about you…they only needed a story.
And someone had just decided to write mine.
