"So he's the one who exposed you," Yuey says on the train. We were riding downtown, packed in the train car during rush hour with office workers. None of them paid attention to our conversation, either absorbed in the music on their headphones or idly scrolling through their feeds.
"It's not him." I was certain of that.
Although the bully's style of texting was familiar, it didn't match Mikael's messaging. He tended to be much more straightforward and used little to no emojis for self-expression. If he hated me and happened to be responsible for my downfall, it would be rather unlike him. I would have expected him to be more blunt if it were him, unless he was hiding his true personality from me this whole time, which would be utterly psychotic.
"You're only saying that because you like him. You don't know what he's capable of or what drives him. He's a boy. Boys are monsters."
I think back to the comments on Natalie's posts. It would make sense if the person who wrote those awful things happened to be a boy. The phrasing was misogynistic and degrading in a way that was expected of the other gender. Only a basement dweller could say those things about me and Natalie, indiscriminately hateful. There was more rancor in the profiles that the bully created for us than in the ones written about Louis and Evan.
"Mikael isn't like that. I wouldn't have feelings for someone who acts or thinks that way." Years of being treated terribly at my previous schools taught me that.
"No girl would logically like a boy like that. But boys are liars. They can pretend to be another person to get what they want out of someone."
Yuey stares at me intensely from behind her glasses. I couldn't tell if she was speaking from experience or if this was something her mother drilled into her.
"I'm not naïve. But what reason would he have to hate me? His GPA has always been higher than mine. He's likable and quiet, the last person to cause trouble. I've never been a threat to him."
She smiles patiently. "That's what a logical person would do. But boys are different. If they like you, they try to ruin your life."
"How does that make any sense?" I tighten my grip on the pole as the train lurches forward.
"That's the point. Boys don't make any sense. They pick on the girls that they like in the playground. What do you think that looks like when they get older?"
"They become dysfunctional incels," I reply. "None of them actually get girlfriends. Those boys just get shoved to the bottom of society."
"And that can't be Mikael." Her voice was thick with skepticism.
"No," I say, ending the conversation. But doubt creeps in as we draw closer to the bridge. We push through throngs of tourists taking photos, scanning the crowd for someone wearing a black jacket and a red hat. There were plenty of black jackets since the early spring weather was still cold, but no red hats.
I keep a lookout for Mikael individually. Standing on my tiptoes, I try to find his familiar blond head and blue puffer jacket. He had a favorite view on the bridge that he liked to lean over the railings and stare at. I've seen it with him many times after school, the perfect intersection of the Manhattan Bridge with the city skyline.
Yuey trails behind me, blending in with the other tourists. Regardless of who the online bully is, she agrees that it would be a good idea for this person to never catch sight of her, even though it was well-known throughout the school that she was my friend.
I approach the point of the bridge where I usually stood with Mikael. I spot him wearing his usual clothes and breathe a sigh of relief. No red hat or black jacket. But the person he was talking to was wearing exactly that.
I check the time. 4:00 pm on the dot.
I walk toward them, the person in the outfit still facing away from me. Mikael appears distressed, rapidly talking to them and gesticulating wildly. I catch a glimpse of the person's side profile and stop in my tracks.
Natalie? What was she doing here? My cheeks flush in embarrassment at the implication of her being the true identity of the online bully. That means she knows I want to hurt her.
But that also means that she has been the one hurting herself.
The pair stops talking when they see me. Mikael has a wide-eyed, panicked expression on his face while Natalie's features ooze smugness.
"You shouldn't be here," he says. "How did you know where I was?"
"Your mom told me while I was dropping off chicken soup." Mikael didn't look sick aside from a slightly red nose. I omit the part where I arranged to meet Natalie's bully on the bridge. "Hi Natalie," I say, acknowledging her.
"You've come at just the right time," my former friend replies. "Mikael was telling me that he would be my boyfriend. I guess he didn't want to associate with someone as low-class as you."
Boyfriend? The hurt must have been evident on my face because Mikael immediately spoke up.
"It's not like that," he protests. "I don't care if you're poor or rich. My feelings for you are the same. You're still the most amazing girl that I've ever met."
Much to my dismay, his words made me tear up. His brown eyes were earnest, filled with affection I hadn't seen before.
I like you too, I thought.
"Those are nice words, but she isn't your girlfriend," Natalie interjected. "I'm your girlfriend." She says the last sentence with poison in her voice.
"It's true," Mikael relents. "But I like Yan more than I will ever like you."
"Then you should be with me." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. An unspoken message passes between us. It was then that I realized that the boy I liked was here against his will.
"No, no, no! He will never be with you. Don't you get it? I know how the kids at school speak about you. Do you really want Mikael to be harassed in the same way? Don't drag him down with you."
Mikael glares at Natalie. "I don't care about that. And how can you expect Yan to be the person to protect me? She's the victim here."
The self-righteous look on her face turns murderous. "Don't defend her. You aren't being a very good boyfriend. Maybe I should throw myself off this bridge after all."
He turns white as a sheet. "You promised me that you wouldn't do that."
"Only if you were my boyfriend. You can't pretend that letting me call you that is the only requirement. You also have to act like my boyfriend."
He lowers his eyes, his long lashes drawing attention to the purplish bags beneath. I picture Natalie waking him up in the middle of the night, threatening to cut herself if he didn't talk her down.
"Why are you making him do this? You know this isn't love. Wouldn't you rather be with a boy who truly likes you?"
"There is no boy like that," she retorts. "I have to do things to earn love. Everyone must work and suffer for it. No one should have it easy, especially not you."
I ignore the barb in her statement. "You don't have feelings for him."
She makes a choking noise. "I have more feelings for him than you do. I spend every waking moment thinking of him. There is no line that I won't cross to make him love me as I love him."
To his credit, Mikael seemed nauseous imagining the reality her statements painted.
"But you don't care about him."
"I care–"
"Not like a human being. You think he's a trophy. That makes you incapable of loving him. Give up. What you're attempting is a fruitless endeavor."
Anger rolls off her body in waves. She tenses up, and for a moment, I think that she is going to hit me.
Instead, she launches herself at the railing and tries to leap off the bridge. I flinch anyway, surprised by the sudden movement. Mikael grabs her ankle. She kicks her way out of his grip and continues climbing.
I latch on to the railing and try to grab her calf. My nails latch onto the texture of her jeans and slow her ascent. From a distance, I hear the blares of police sirens.
Mikael pulls me away from the railing as men in blue uniforms swarm the area. They grab Natalie, carrying her away from the edge of the bridge. She struggles in their hold, screaming and convulsing.
At the edge of the crowd, I spot Yuey holding a phone near her ear. She nods at me, letting me know that she was the one who called the cops. Mikael takes my hand, giving it a firm squeeze. We watch as Natalie is tucked away in an ambulance, frothing at the mouth.
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