When she finally got home that evening, she remained over an hour on her bed, her head buried in a pillow, with the music playing loud, until finally her mother came to check on her.
“Hon? Did something happened at school?”
“Nothing, Mom,” the girl mumbled somberly through her pillow.
“Yes, I can see that... is this about a boy?”
“Okay, then... and how was your speech?”
She finally raised her head to look at her: “It was horrible! There was all this group of dumb jocks who started screaming, and then everyone screamed along, and I couldn't finish my speech!”
“Oh my, what a mess! Why did it happen?”
“I'm sure it's Miranda's fault! She's running against me, of course she wanted to ruin my speech so I wouldn't beat her! She must have told those jocks-”
“Do you have any proof of that, hon?”
“Well, no, but-”
“Then be careful about accusing someone, you should be sure she's really guilty. Maybe I should call Miranda's mom.”
“No, thanks,” she said. “That's something between her and me, I'd rather deal with it on my own.”
“Okay, but if you need help, I'm here for you.”
She kissed her daughter and left. Once alone, Sally grabbed her phone, and connected on Facebook. She had a message:
Quentin Mayfair: Hey Sal, it's Quentin, Miranda's boyfriend, dunno if you remember. Anyway, Miranda told me about what happened, wanted to say I'm sorry, and I know she didn't do it. I know you think it's her, and it's normal you think that, but trust me, I know her and maybe she can be cold to some people, but she'd never ever do that. Sorry again, and courage...
This comforted her a bit. If Quentin said it, it must be the truth. This boy was a basketball star, and he was terribly cute with his blond curly hair and angel face. And he was also the nicest boy in the world, he would never hurt someone. Sally had to admit she kind of liked him, even though he was already taken... too bad... but she trusted him, that was for sure. So if it wasn't Miranda, it must be someone else, someone who would want to ruin her campaign... oh! Of course! Typing angrily, she searched for Danielle Cassidy's profile, and was shocked to find it so desperately empty: just as sad-looking selfie, a profanity-laced cover picture, and a stream of barbaric album covers by bands with barbaric names in her interests. No status updates, no friends list, nothing. Why she even bothered with a Facebook profile was a wonder. She was online! She started shaking at the idea of sending her a message, but she told herself at least she coudn't punch her through the phone, so she braced herself and went on:
Sally Lomax: Great job breaking it!!!
Danielle Cassidy: wtf?
Sally Lomax: I don't know what you told those jocks, but you ruined my speech!! You went too far this time!
Danielle Cassidy: hold on, you think it was my fault?
Sally Lomax: of course! Who else?
Danielle Cassidy: when you left the stage, I was close to those jocks, and I heard them. They were talking about “making a contribution to your hole.” I don't like you, but you really think I could get so low?
She lost her breath for a moment and stared at the screen, reading and reading again the horrible sentence. She couldn't believe it. There was only one person who... but he couldn't have done that! But that was the only explanation now. No other choice, she had to confront him the next day.