“Everyone, eyes up here for a second.” He looked directly at Rosie. “Victim. That’s what they’ve treated her like for years.”
Then he pushed the flash drive into the laptop.
I tried to push past again. The boys held their ground without touching me.
But something stopped my next breath. The girls in the photo.
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Then the screen behind him lit up.
The first photo loaded slowly. Rosie in a bathroom stall, knees pulled to her chest, her face wet and red.
“Stop it,” I whispered. Then louder. “Steven, stop.”
The second photo. Rosie in the cafeteria, her jacket torn at the sleeve, her stuffed bear pressed against her chest like a shield.
“Steven, please.”
The third. Rosie sitting alone at a lunch table while three girls behind her covered their mouths and laughed.
My knees nearly gave out.
But something stopped my next breath. The girls in the photo. Their faces weren’t blurred. They weren’t hidden. They were sharp and clear, and easy to name.
Madison. Brooke. Caitlin.
“We told you to stop. We asked you nicely.”
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I lifted my eyes to the crowd. Madison stood near the punch table, her smile slowly dissolving. Brooke had taken a step backward, like she could disappear into the wall.
Steven’s voice came calm and steady over the room.
“I want everyone to look. Really look. Not at Rosie. At the people behind her.”
A murmur rippled through the gym.
“For two years,” he continued, “I watched this. My friends watched it. We told you to stop. We asked you nicely. We asked you not nicely. And you laughed harder.”
I covered my mouth with my hand.
“So I started taking pictures,” Steven added. “Every time. Every hallway. Every cafeteria. Every cruel little joke you thought no one saw.”
