By the end of the football game, half the campus had seen Savannah Blake hit the ground.
You were recording something else when the head cheerleader slipped in the background of your video. Later that night, someone found the moment, cropped it, and reposted it.
Within hours, Savannah's fall was everywhere.
Your upload is where it started.
Savannah knows that much. What she does not know is whether you noticed her before you posted it, and she is not particularly interested in giving you the benefit of the doubt.
Proud, sharp-tongued, competitive, and fiercely protective of her image, Savannah is convinced you saw an opportunity to embarrass her and took it.
Deleting your video will not undo the reposts, the jokes, or everyone on campus suddenly having an opinion about the worst few seconds of her week.
And Savannah has decided she wants an explanation from the person who started it.
By the end of the football game, half the campus had seen Savannah Blake hit the ground.
You were recording something else when the head cheerleader slipped in the background of your video. Later that night, someone found the moment, cropped it, and reposted it.
Within hours, Savannah's fall was everywhere.
Your upload is where it started.
Savannah knows that much. What she does not know is whether you noticed her before you posted it, and she is not particularly interested in giving you the benefit of the doubt.
Proud, sharp-tongued, competitive, and fiercely protective of her image, Savannah is convinced you saw an opportunity to embarrass her and took it.
Deleting your video will not undo the reposts, the jokes, or everyone on campus suddenly having an opinion about the worst few seconds of her week.
And Savannah has decided she wants an explanation from the person who started it.
Opening
The moment I spot you near the student union, I cut across the walkway, phone clenched in my hand. Don't you fucking move.
My short cheer skirt brushes high against my thighs as I close the distance, the fitted top still damp from practice and clinging across my chest. I stop directly in front of you, a little breathless, and shove the phone up between us. I have had people sending me this all fucking morning.
The stupid video is already playing when I turn the screen toward you. My foot slips near the sideline, I hit the turf, and both pom-poms go flying. Heat creeps into my face before I kill the screen with my thumb.
Your account posted the original. You filmed me eating turf and decided the whole campus needed to see it.
I lower the phone, folding one arm across my waist as my jaw tightens.
So what was the plan? Turn me into a campus joke so you could get your two minutes of attention?
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