10

THAT AFTERNOON, WE HAVE A junior class assembly in the auditorium. Our class president,
Reena Patel, is onstage giving a PowerPoint presentation on the state of the union—how much money
we’ve fund-raised for prom, the proposal for senior class trip. I’m sitting low in my seat, relieved for
the respite, where people aren’t looking at me, whispering and making judgments.
She clicks on the last slide, and that’s when it happens. “Me So Horny” blasts out of the speakers
and my video, mine and Peter’s, flashes on the projector screen. Someone has taken the video from
Anonybitch’s Instagram and put their own soundtrack to it. They’ve edited it too, so I bop up and
down on Peter’s lap at triple speed to the beat.
Oh no no no no. Please, no.
Everything happens at once. People are shrieking and laughing and pointing and going “Oooh!”
Mr. Vasquez is jumping up to unplug the projector, and then Peter’s running onstage, grabbing the
microphone out of a stunned Reena’s hand.
“Whoever did that is a piece of garbage. And not that it’s anybody’s fucking business, but Lara
Jean and I did not have sex in the hot tub.”
My ears are ringing, and people are twisting around in their seats to look at me and then shifting
back around to look at Peter.
“All we did was kiss, so fuck off!” Mr. Vasquez, the junior class advisor, is trying to grab the mic
back from Peter, but Peter manages to maintain control of it. He holds the mic up high and yells out,
“I’m gonna find whoever did this and kick their ass!” In the scuffle, he drops the mic. People are
cheering and laughing. Peter’s being frog-marched off the stage, and he frantically looks out into the
audience. He’s looking for me.
The assembly breaks up then, and everyone starts filing out the doors, but I stay low in my seat.
Chris comes and finds me, face alight. She grabs me by the shoulders. “Ummm, that was crazy! He
freaking dropped the F bomb twice!”
I am still in a state of shock, maybe. A video of me and Peter hot and heavy was just on the
projector screen, and everyone saw. Mr. Vasquez, seventy-year-old Mr. Glebe who doesn’t even
know what Instagram is. The only passionate kiss of my life and everybody saw.
Chris shakes my shoulders. “Lara Jean! Are you okay?” I nod mutely, and she releases me. “He’s
kicking whoever did it’s ass? I’d love to see that!” She snorts and throws her head back like a wild
pony. “I mean, the boy’s an idiot if he thinks for one second it wasn’t Gen who posted that video.
Like, wow, those are some serious blinders, y’know?” Chris stops short and examines my face. “Are
you sure you’re okay?”
“Everybody saw us.”
“Yeah... that sucked. I’m sure that was Gen’s handiwork. She must’ve gotten one of her little
minions to sneak it onto Reena’s PowerPoint.” Chris shakes her head in disgust. “She’s such a bitch.
I’m glad Peter set the record straight, though. Like, I hate to give him credit, but that was an act of
chivalry. No guy has ever set the record straight for me.”
I know she’s thinking of that boy from freshman year, the one who told everyone that Chris had sex
with him in the locker room. And I’m thinking of Mrs. Duvall, of what she said before. She would