Word Count: 62,000
Genre: YA Contemporary
Nobody ever died of embarrassment, but sophomore Viola Jones is certain she’ll be the first. She's still reeling from being dumped by Ethan, her first love, when their sex tape is leaked to the entire school. In the course of a day, she transforms from a quiet honors student to the biggest joke at Lincolnhill High.
Devastated by Ethan's betrayal and appalled that her most private moments are now public, Vi considers disappearing until graduation. However the only thing worse than the world seeing her sex tape would be her parents finding out she made one.
She tries to ignore the lewd jokes and taunts about her size-sixteen figure. When a bully pushes her too far, Vi pushes back, earning the title "crazy" to accompany "fat" and "slut." She winds up doing community service to atone for the outburst. There she meets Oliver, a charming transplant from England, with the added bonus of being unaware of her infamy. Vi falls for Oliver, but when he gets the impression that she’s a virgin, she "forgets" to correct him.
Sure, Vi knows she should, but Oliver sees her as a person, and not as sex tape girl. He makes her feel like she did before the tape was leaked, before she became a pariah, and before she was labelled plus-size porn star by her peers. Unfortunately, the internet is unforgiving and Oliver inadvertently learns of Vi’s reputation. Realizing she can never undo the past, Viola must face and overcome her mistakes if she wants to step out from her own shadow.
Phil Burke is leering at me. That never leads to anything good. Even after taking my seat I feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. Phil staring at me isn’t unusual―he’s always looking for new ways to torment me. The weird thing is he’s not the only one. On the bus a couple of freshman girls gaped at me like they’d never seen me before—like we don’t take the same bus every day. I tried to ignore it and read a book, but the words swam all over the page.
Phil snickers and I flinch. It’s a reflex dating back to third grade when he sat behind me in Science. Every time I raised my hand he let out a barely audible “oink.” I stopped raising my hand. What’s infuriating is he’s got at least fifty pounds on me.
After homeroom I make a beeline for the girl’s bathroom to check for the giant zit or unicorn horn that must’ve erupted from my forehead since leaving the house.
I examine my reflection. No food in my teeth or signs on my back. I didn't forget to wear pants or suddenly turn into Leonard Nimoy. Cress didn't cut all my hair off while I slept—again. She was seven last time. I nearly killed her. She knows better now. Besides she's long past her Little Mermaid phase so has no reason to want an "Ariel Wig." When I reminded her that she also has red hair, she just said mine was "more Ariel."