“From TikTok?”
My eyes bulge and my heart thuds to a halt. I swallow. “What’s a tic tac?”
“Oh.” The girl frowns and her brow creases as she tries to decide whether to believe me or not. “Sorry to bug you.” She walks away, and I let out a breath.
“What the heck was that, Maddie?” I turn on my best friend. “You said this would blow over. You didn’t say random people would notice me while I’m eating donuts.”
Maddie raises a brow. “How often do you eat donuts?”
“Often. Very often.” I shove my phone at her. “Fix this.”
For the first few days after I had gone viral, I’d been cautious, watching people to see if they recognized me. No one had ever approached me before now. I was beginning to think the internet trolls did in fact only live on the internet like those weird blocks on Minecraft. I suppose I can understand why Ward was so upset.
“Fine. I’ll delete it.”
“Thank you,” I say. It’s been nice to get all the Etsy orders, but it’s not worth this kind of recognition. What if a stalker approaches me next? I go back to enjoying my donut and try to retrieve the corresponding mood that goes along with it. In case you’re wondering, it’s called happiness. But all my happiness is gone at the moment.
“Lyndi,” Maddie says slowly, “have you looked in your inbox?”
I consider the little email app on my phone and the constant 3,478—and counting—unread emails. All junk mail.
“No.”
“You’re getting offers from everyone.” She comes to my side of the table and scrolls through an inbox that looks nothing like my email. “Offers on shoes, clothes, perfume, ball gowns for your Cinderella moment, and more.”
“And?” It’s all propaganda. That’s how junk mail works. If you click on the link, you’ll get a virus.
The last link I clicked on for a dating app connected me with my ex, so I know this for certain. And boy did he leave me with quite the little virus.
“Hundreds of people want to send you stuff. Free stuff.”
“No, they don’t, Maddie. It’s a scam.” You’d think lawyers would know this.
Maddie presses a finger to her forehead. “You are so behind on the times. But I set up your account, so I will get it on my phone and figure it out.”
“Thank you,” I sigh. It’ll be a relief to not have to worry about that app anymore.
I stand up and throw away my trash. Maddie moves to throw away her donut, but I snatch it from her before she can waste such a treasure. I take a bite, then gag and toss it into the trash myself.Thatis not a treasure.
“Come on, Crew.”
“Where are we going now?” Crew asks, bouncing with enough sugar to last him three days. I wish that worked for me.
“To buy sunglasses. And maybe a wig.”
I don’t need more attention than the looks I get when I haul a butt-naked four-year-old out of Walmart.
Maybe I should have started wearing disguises years ago.
Twenty
Ward
Mystomachisinknots, and I throw my truck into park halfway on the curb in front of the restaurant. I grab my emergency bag and sprint inside the dining room.
Gazes lift in my direction but I look past them, searching for the reason my heart hammers like a freight train.
There’s not a group of people gathered around a child having a severe allergic reaction. I don’t see my sister or mom anywhere freaking out.
