The following morning, Lyla steeled herself as she entered the school building. She had been warned in no uncertain terms but she persisted and now she would face Carissa's fury. Her punishment would not be delivered in one swift, agonizing blow. No, this was going to be death by a thousand paper cuts, excruciatingly slow and painful.

But surprisingly, it seemed like an ordinary school day. Students went about their business and hung out in their usual cliques. She felt practically invisible.

When she arrived at her locker, she discovered a sheet of notebook paper taped to the locker door. In big red letters, it read SKANK. Her stomach knotted. Amidst a buzz of whispered conversation and catcalls, she ripped down the note. She didn't realize until she'd set her book bag on the floor, that someone had taped another note to the back of her book bag that read SLUT.

SLAM, she was body-checked from behind. She hit the metal locker hard. Her books fell from her arms, papers flew.

From the stream of students flowing down the hallway, three large girls surrounded her. Noah crept up from behind and trapped her in a tight bear hug, pinning her between his mattress-like body and his fleshy arms.

Lyla looked out in panic at the nasty faces encouraging the assault.

A jock shouted, "Spank the skank."

Nicole, a cheerleader with blonde pigtails produced a tube of red lipstick, puckered her lips, and made kissing noises at her. "Let's make this tramp nice and pretty." She smeared lipstick in wide circles across Lyla's mouth, scribbling on her face.

"Get off me!" Lyla kicked and twisted, but she couldn't escape Noah's grip. Jeers and insults rained down on her.

Throwing her bony elbows, Darcy fought her way through the throng.

"Where the hell are the security guards?" she shouted, slapping the lipstick out of Nicole's grasp.

"Let go of her, you mutant!" Darcy threw a hard punch that bounced harmlessly off of Noah's shoulder.

He shoved Lyla at her friend. "Here. You can have her," he snarled.

"Back to hell with thee, demons!" Richie shooed them away. "Go pump some iron or some football players."

Kids scattered when a security officer jogged toward Lyla and Darcy.

"It's about time," Darcy huffed.

"What happened here?" he asked.

Lyla lowered her head and hid her face. "Nothing. I'm fine," she mumbled.

"You're not fine," Darcy growled.

He picked up the tube of lipstick. "Who did this?" He glanced around at the students filtering out of the hallway into classrooms.

"Give the girl some space," said Richie. "Let her fix her face."

Darcy ushered her tearful friend toward the girls' room. Lyla kept her head down, but she could hear the snarky comments, the vulgar jokes, and the murmured threats.

In the bathroom, she went to the sink. Her face looked like a psychotic clown with circles of red lipstick covering her mouth, chin, and nose. Mascara trails streaked her cheeks. She yanked paper towels from the dispenser.

Two girls giggled as they passed, making kissing noises at her.

Darcy flipped them off. "Go to class," she hissed. "Both of you could use some."

Lyla wiped the lipstick and tears from her face with trembling hands.

"You should report them." Darcy took a stern tone. "If you don't, I will."

"It will only make things worse," she sighed.

"Worse?" Darcy growled then checked her phone.

"That brat, Emily, took a selfie while you were being attacked and was dumb enough to post it on her Snap." She snarled, "Live by the selfie, die by the selfie."

Lyla inspected herself in the mirror. The only visible remains of the attack were a few spots of lipstick on her collar. She began reapplying her eye make-up.

"By the way," Darcy warned. "Don't even check your Facebook. It's wall-to-wall slut-shaming."

Lyla had experienced only the first twenty minutes of the school day and already she had been reduced to tears. She shuddered at the thoughts of what lay in store. And the most gut-wrenching thought of all – she had yet to face Carissa's wrath.