I don't sleep.
Can't sleep.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Madison in that UCLA shirt. Liam's face when he told me I don't belong. The way they looked at each other like I wasn't even there.
At 4 AM, I'm still staring at my ceiling, phone clutched in my hand.
Seventy-three texts from Liam. I blocked his number, but they came through on Instagram DMs before I blocked him there too.
I'm sorry Please let me explain It wasn't supposed to happen like this You're overreacting Madison means nothing Can we just talk?
That last one makes me laugh. A hollow, bitter sound that doesn't feel like it came from me.
Madison means nothing.
Then why is she in your bed?
I open Instagram. Stare at my feed. All those polished photos. All those perfect captions. All those lies.
My finger hovers over Madison's profile.
Her "Upgrade" post has 4,000 likes now. The comments are filled with fire emojis and people asking who the lucky guy is.
Someone tagged me.
@averylane isn't this ur boyfriend's shirt? 👀
My stomach drops.
I scroll down. More tags. More comments. More people connecting dots I didn't even realize were visible.
wait is she dating avery's ex??? OMG MESSY sisters dating the same guy? YIKES this is why i don't trust family lmaooo
Then I see it.
A screenshot. My graduation photos with Liam. Side by side with Madison's new post.
Same shirt.
Same room.
Same guy.
The caption: Sacramento tea is SCALDING ☕️
It has 12,000 likes.
I'm going viral.
For all the wrong reasons.
My hands shake as I scroll through the comments. Hundreds of them. Thousands. People I've never met discussing my life like it's a Netflix drama.
avery deserves better nah she probably knew and is playing victim the sister is FOUL for this high school girls dating college guys always ends like this lol both of them are messy tbh
I lock my phone. Throw it across the room. It hits the wall and clatters to the floor.
I don't care if it's broken.
I don't care about anything.
But then my laptop pings.
An email notification.
Subject: Checking In - Brand Partnership
I scramble off my bed, grab the laptop. Open the email.
Hi Avery,
Hope you're doing well! We noticed some recent activity on your social media and wanted to touch base. As you know, our brand values authenticity and positive representation. We're seeing some concerning discussions in your comments section and wanted to make sure everything is okay on your end. Let us know if you need anything!
Best, Taylor - Brand Partnerships
Translation: fix your mess or we're dropping you.
I check my other emails.
Three more. All from different sponsors. All saying basically the same thing.
They're watching.
They're waiting.
One wrong move and I lose everything I've built.
My phone buzzes from where it landed. Cracked screen, but still working.
Text from Zoey: AVERY WTF IS HAPPENING
I don't respond.
Another buzz. A call this time.
I answer. "Zo..."
"WHAT THE HELL." Her voice is sharp. Panicked. "Everyone is talking about it. The screenshots are everywhere. Madison posted WHAT? Are you okay? Where are you? I'm coming over."
"No." My voice sounds dead. "Don't."
"Avery..."
"I can't... I can't see anyone right now."
Silence.
Then softer: "Did he really...?"
"Yeah." The word cracks in half.
"I'm gonna kill him. Both of them. I'm driving to UCLA right now and..."
"Don't." I wipe my face. When did I start crying again? "It doesn't matter."
"It DOES matter. She's your sister. He's, was, your boyfriend. They..."
"I know what they did, Zoey."
Another silence.
"What do you need?" she asks finally. "Tell me what you need and I'll do it."
"I need everyone to stop talking about me."
"Okay." Her voice is gentle now. Careful. "Okay. I'll... I'll handle it. I'll comment on the posts. Defend you. I'll..."
"No."
"What?"
"Don't defend me. Don't engage. Don't... just don't."
Because defending me means acknowledging it's real. Means confirming I'm the girl who got dumped for her sister. The girl who was practice. The girl who wasn't good enough.
I'd rather let them wonder.
"I have to go," I whisper.
"Avery, please don't do anything..."
I hang up.
Sit back down on my floor.
Open Instagram again.
The screenshots have spread to Twitter now. TikTok. Someone made a whole video analyzing the "tea" with dramatic music and everything.
I'm a meme.
I'm a cautionary tale.
I'm the punchline.
My bedroom door opens.
Mom stands there in her bathrobe, holding her phone. "Avery. We need to talk."
"Not now."
"Yes, now." She comes in, closes the door behind her. Sits on my bed. "I've been getting calls. Your aunt Linda saw something online. Your cousin texted me. Even my coworkers are asking if you're okay."
I don't look at her. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine. And I need to know what's going on."
"Liam and I broke up."
"I gathered that much. What I don't understand is why Madison..." She stops. Takes a breath. "Is it true? What people are saying?"
"That she slept with my boyfriend? Yeah. It's true."
Mom's face does something complicated. Anger. Disappointment. Something else I can't name.
"I'll talk to her," she says finally.
"Don't bother."
"Avery..."
"She won't care. She already won." I laugh, and it sounds wrong. "She wanted to prove she's better than me, and she did. Congrats to Madison."
"That's not..."
"Can you please just leave?" I'm not crying anymore. I'm past crying. I'm in that numb space where nothing feels real. "I have graduation tomorrow and I need to sleep."
"You're still going?"
I look at her finally. "Of course I'm going. I'm not letting them take that from me too."
Mom studies my face. Whatever she sees there makes her stand up. "Okay. But Avery? If you need to talk..."
"I don't."
She leaves.
I sit in the dark and scroll through the comments until the sun comes up.
By 6 AM, there are think pieces. Actual articles. "The Dark Side of Teen Influencer Culture" and "When Family Betrays: A Social Media Horror Story."
They're using my name.
My photos.
My pain.
And they're making money off it.
I close my laptop.
Stand up.
Walk to my mirror.
I look like hell. Puffy eyes. Smeared mascara I never washed off. Hair tangled. But underneath all of that, I see something else.
Something sharp.
"Never again," I whisper to my reflection. "Never weak again."
The girl in the mirror stares back.
She looks like a stranger.
Good.
Because Avery Lane, the sweet influencer girl who cried over a boy? She's gone.
Whoever I'm becoming? She's going to be a problem.
Graduation is at 3 PM.
I spend the morning in the shower. Washing away yesterday. Washing away the tears and the humiliation and the weakness.
When I get out, I do my makeup like I'm going to war.
Foundation. Contour. Highlight. The works.
My hair falls in perfect waves. My dress is white and innocent and lies like hell about who I'm becoming.
I look in the mirror one more time.
The girl staring back looks confident. Put together. Like nothing is wrong.
Perfect.
Mom drives me to the school. Doesn't ask if I'm okay. Doesn't bring up Madison. Just drives in silence while I stare out the window.
The parking lot is packed. Families with balloons. Students in caps and gowns. Everyone excited and happy and normal.
I pull on my cap and gown in the bathroom. A few girls glance at me, whispering. I ignore them.
"Avery." Zoey appears in the mirror behind me. "Hey."
"Hey."
"You look... good."
"Thanks."
She fidgets with her tassel. "Everyone's talking..."
"I know."
"I told Brandon to shut up. And Kayla. And basically anyone who tried to say something."
"Appreciate it."
"Are you really okay?"
I turn to face her. "No. But I will be."
She hugs me. Hard. I hug her back.
"For what it's worth," she whispers, "Madison's a bitch. And Liam's an idiot. And you're going to be fine."
"I know."
I don't know.
But I need to believe it.
We line up alphabetically. I'm between two people I barely know. They don't talk to me. Don't even look at me.
Good.
The ceremony starts. Principal's speech. Valedictorian's speech. Student performances. All of it blurs together.
Then they start calling names.
"Avery Lane."
I walk across the stage. Shake hands. Accept my diploma. Smile for the cameras.
The audience applauds politely.
I scan the crowd out of habit. Looking for my family. Mom's there. Dad too, even though they're divorced. Aunt Linda. A few cousins.
Madison's not there.
Of course she's not.
But then I see someone else.
A man. Older. Distinguished looking in a blazer. Salt and pepper hair. Strong jawline.
He's sitting in the back, not with any particular family. Just watching.
And when I look at him, he's already looking at me.
Not politely. Not casually.
Curiously.
Like he's trying to figure something out.
I don't recognize him.
But something about his face is familiar.
The same sharp features. The same blue eyes.
My stomach drops.
I know those eyes.
I've seen those eyes.
In photos. In Liam's Instagram. In the background of family pictures.
That's his father.
Professor Ethan Parker.
And he's watching me like I'm a puzzle he wants to solve.
I tear my gaze away. Keep walking. Take my seat.
But I can feel him still looking.
And for the first time since yesterday, I feel something other than pain.
I feel possibility.