People had definitely noticed I was dancing with Jem at the party. 

How I knew? 

Well, Jasmine wasn't exactly the subtle sort. On Monday she saw me hauling some books from my locker into my bag and promptly came over.

"Good morning, Celia!" she greeted me with a wide smile, before scooting closer to me than usual. I'd seen her get this way with Autumn and other girls, when they were gossiping. 

"So, you and Jem were having a good time huh?" she asked.

I immediately wondered whether that was an accusation. It didn't sound like one, but Jasmine and Autumn were friends and I'd been hanging out with Autumns brand new ex-boyfriend.

"Yeah, I guess," I replied casually. 

Though, to be fair, Autumn's brand new ex-boyfriend had been hanging out with me rather than the other way around. I wouldn't be the one to first approach Jem, and to this day I still had no clue why Jem had decided to spend the party talking and dancing with me. 

If it was at all possible, Jasmine's smile broadened even further. "You want to date him, then?" 

I nearly chocked on my own tongue. 

"Uh," I stammered. "I don't know." 

I did know. Duh, of course I wanted to date him. It'd be a constant anxiety rollercoaster ride to be Jem's girlfriend, but boy would I be happy to. Jasmine definitely didn't to know that, however. Autumn's spit was still fresh in his mouth and Jasmine, as her friend, would probably judge me if I said yes.

"I mean," I added, "he's nice but he just broke up with Autumn..." 

"Right, right." Jasmine shrugged. "Why would you care about that, though? Free is free." 

"I suppose," I replied, not really wanting to disagree with Jasmine to her face. It'd likely be more trouble than it was worth. 

Talking with Jasmine felt like a minefield just like it had during that football match, so I was relieved when the bell rang. 

"Talk to you later Jasmine," I broke off the conversation. I pushed my locker closed and quickly walked away. 

I was lucky Farah nor Bailey saw Jasmine talking to me, because they both would've asked me what that was about and I wasn't willing to explain it to them either. I already felt guilty enough when I walked into English class and Bailey smiled at me as I lowered myself in the seat next to her.

"Hey, how was your weekend?" she asked. "Good I guess since I didn't catch you online at all." 

The only way I could've felt more guilty about using her as an excuse and simultaneously not inviting her for Jem's party was if I'd ended up making out with her crush Spencer. At least I hadn't done that.

"Uh, yeah, it was fine. We had a sort of family weekend," I lied. "Hung out with my parents and we... walked. In the forest." 

"Really? Where did you walk?" Bailey asked, immediately perking up. 

She liked hiking and I cursed my inability to think of an excuse that would've left her uninterested. 

"It was near our house," I made up, before getting stuck. 

Thankfully, I was saved again. This time by our teacher, Mrs. Greene, clapping her hands and starting class. 

How could I ever focus on learning how to write an essay with a point evidence explanation structure after this turbulent weekend. I couldn't, and I found my eyes wandering to the window, daydreaming. 

About this weekend. Autumn walking out the door, the scent of Jem's aftershave as he put his arm around me while we danced, the conversation with Jasmine this morning. Wait, if she was asking me if I wanted to date Jem... did that mean Jem had mentioned something to her about me? 

The possibility, small as it was, made me giddy. Even in my jeans and t-shirt, I'd managed to get Jem's attention, though, it was probably better if I started paying more attention to what I wore. I'd look horribly out of tone with the rest of Jem's circle if I continued dressing like a slob. 

Bailey and I were close to the back of the classroom and Mrs. Greene wasn't paying attention to me, so I snuck my phone out of my jeans pocket and casually placed it on my lap. 

I'd learnt from last time. I wouldn't go for dresses, or clothing in general, that would only look good on a woman with legs for miles. In fact, I'd look up some info on body types first before ordering again. 

One article in particular was interesting, showing that A-line skirts with a form fitting top would look good on nearly anyone. I was really getting into the article, until someone suddenly stood next to me. 

"Celia." 

I nearly jumped as Mrs. Greene called my name, and my eyes shot up to her. 

She raised a brow at me. "I doubt you're in the habit of staring intently at your lap, so I suggest you give that phone to me, hm?"

She held out her hand while some chuckles sounded around me from people laughing at her joke. I felt my cheeks heat up as I placed my phone in Mrs. Greene's hand, keeping my eyes firmly trained on my desk. 

I felt Bailey staring. This kind of thing never happened to me. I wasn't the type to be on my phone in class, and Mrs. Greene targeting me with her jokes the very first time I did felt incredibly unfair. There were other girls who were on their phone all the time, yet, she didn't treat them like she'd treated me. 

The humiliation was complete when class ended and Mrs. Greene singled me out in front of everyone again. 

"Celia? You stay behind after class," she told me when the bell rang. 

I couldn't believe she was doing this to me in front of Jasmine and a couple of Jem's friends who were in this class, too. I couldn't believe I hadn't had a snappy comeback when Mrs. Greene joked. That's why she had singled me out, hadn't she? Because she knew I wasn't witty on the spot, wouldn't clap back harder. She wasn't even a cool teacher. She was a middle-aged, overweight woman with short hair, who thought denim jackets were the only piece of clothing she ever needed and made references to shows nobody watched anymore.

"Good luck," Bailey muttered, patting my shoulder in the passing as she left the classroom.

I walked to the front of the class and took a seat opposite Mrs. Greene with crossed arms.

"Can I have my phone back?" I asked immediately. 

Mrs. Greene opened her desk drawer and placed my phone in front of me. "Celia, I'm not keeping you here to bully you," she said, as if she'd read my mind. "I'm just wondering how you're doing." 

"Fine," I answered as curtly as I could without being downright rude. 

"Okay." Mrs. Greene sighed and took off her glasses. "Recently, I've noticed you're hanging with Jasmine, Jem, and Autumn."

I waited for Mrs. Greene to continue, but when she didn't I shrugged. "What about it?" 

"I'm only going to say one thing: Celia, don't change who are for them, okay?  You're a nice, genuine girl. You're not the type to go shopping for clothes during class - you're better than that." 

"I'll be fine. Thank you," I said politely, though, my thoughts were much less polite.

Who did she think she was? Just because she looked dumpy, was okay with it, and had settled for spinsterhood, didn't mean I had to stop caring about my looks because I was a 'nice' girl. 

I certainly didn't feel very genuine and nice right now anyway. My thoughts weren't. Mrs. Greene was misreading me. Or perhaps she wasn't. She didn't seem very convinced about my reply anyway, the way she stared at me with sharp, narrowed eyes. 

"Alright, you can go. You shouldn't be late for your next class," Mrs. Green eventually gave in. 

"Thank you." 

I tried to forget about Mrs. Greene's words the rest of the school day, with very little success. I kept feeling bad about the English class, and during the break Jem didn't look my way once. Jasmine didn't either, and I didn't see Autumn in school anywhere today. 

It was like this weekend hadn't happened, like this morning with Jasmine approaching me hadn't happened, and everything had gone back to normal. I sat with Bailey and Farah. Spencer cast glances Bailey's way and they briefly and shyly talked in the lunch line, and a few classes and hours later the school day was over. 

I accepted a ride home from Bailey's mom because it would be odd for me not to. But for a moment things got a little tense when my own mom was tending to the front garden as Bailey's mom dropped me off.

If they talked about the weekend, I'd be so busted. 

I had to prevent that at all cost, so I hastily got out of the car.

"Thanks for the ride," I told Bailey's mom before immediately throwing the car door closed behind me, trying to prevent any more conversation from happening. 

I breathed a sigh in relief as Bailey and her mom took off, and my mom and I waved at them from the front garden. 

"How was your day, honey?" my mom asked me with a small smile. "By the way, your computer upstairs kept making these little noises, so you may want to check?" 

"It was alright," I lied. "You mean Instagram notifications?" 

The moment I asked the question, I realised it was a pointless one. My mom didn't know what Instagram was, let alone how the notifications were supposed to sound. That was... strange, though. My account was pretty dead in general and I rarely posted anything.

Maybe Mrs. Greene had a point that I wasn't the type to shop for clothes online like a cool girl; I even had all my notifications on mute on my phone. 

I ran up the stairs, wondering what was going on and utterly unaware what kind of a mess I was about to walk into. Had I thought my day had been eventful, it was about to get much, much more eventful online.

The first thing I noticed as I woke my computer from its slumber was the plethora of follow requests. They didn't seem to be from random strangers or bots either. No, they were all names I recognised from people from school. I didn't approve any of them yet. I just sat there scrolling and baffled. 

What the hell was going on? 

I got my answer from Bailey, who'd sent me a direct message.

Bailey: omg, Celia people are saying it's because of you

That was the entire, cryptic message, though, Bailey had left me a link. I clicked it with a pounding heart and my jaw literally dropped.

It was Autumn, but not just Autumn. 

It was an Autumn who no longer had a long, silky hair on her head. In fact, she literally had the hairdo men in the military tended to have. Full on millimetre.