I can't been a random ice-cream lady I met purely by chance is a more reliable confidant than Peri and Brix have ever been in, like, ten years. A mint choco chip vanilla cone is a great remedy to disillusion, according to her. I don't know if it's enough to heal the wounds caused by that night, but now I feel much better.

"Feel free to pass by whenever you want," she says as I hand her what's left of my pocket money. She takes it; then, I walk away and to yet another unknown direction. I don't feel like going home. I want to taste this delicious ice-cream in peace and not worry about people who think I should cave to creepy dipshits asking me out.

***

Three days have passed since I took that random ice-cream trip. The bullying at the hand of the Burden of Breaking Hearts gang doesn't seem to stop, but this time I have a thicker skin and can endure it more easily, which means I can come up with a good strategy to counter it. The rest of the school body, on the other hand, has returned to ignore me. They must fear comeuppance in case they get caught.

Anyway, I don't mind not having friends anymore. I can stay by myself, focus on my goals and no longer listen to Peri or Brix' superficial blabber about guys. I'm not ready for a relationship and don't think I have the maturity to overcome inevitable obstacles.

This newfound peace, however, isn't meant to last long. I overhear Lyndall Stephen, the guy who made sexual remarks about me on that club's diary, boast about his conquers with other students from his year.

A few girls stand around him with their mouths literally foaming. They disgust me. Haven't they got dignity or, at least, some shame? He looks like someone who finds pleasure in using girls and treating them like doormats.

As soon as he notices me, he whistles at me. I approach him and hiss at him, grinding my teeth. "I'm not a cow, so don't you dare whistle at me again!"

"Relax, baby, and stop being so uptight. It's easy to understand why you got kicked out of the club." He gives me a smug smile, which makes me grab him by the collar. If I could, I'd punch his face. However, since that could get me suspended, I'll make do with glaring intensely at him.

The other students with him run away, giggling like idiots. A few of them have filmed us. They'd better delete their stupid videos unless they want trouble.

Back to me and that sly asshole. I let go of him, but he returns the favor by pulling my hair and pushing me to the wall. He shakes his pointing finger. "No, no, no. Your attitude is not it. Honestly, I'm disappointed at you."

I retort. "Because I'm not a shallow bimbo who only cares about her measures? Or because I find your flirting tactics beyond disgusting? You know what, Lyndall? You're even more stupid than I thought. I wonder how girls still find you attractive, when you're nothing but a pervert."

His veins pulse and become larger and more intense in anger. He roars at me. "Excuse me? How dare you, Rieleigh? I thought you were a nice girl. It turns out you're the worst. Rest assured you'll pay for disrespecting me like this."

"Not so fast. I know your dirty little secret. The day I tell the wrong people, you're toast." That said, I turn my back at him and leave, thrusting my hips to taunt him. He shouts something barely intelligible, but I don't care.

***

I wait until everyone has left the school premises to rummage through the trash bins. I've casually heard members from The Burden of Breaking Hearts bin anything they don't believe is valuable anymore, such as footnotes and letters. I have limited time. If I can't collect enough material before waste collection trucks pass by, I'm in deep trouble.

Bingo! The paper bin is full of interesting stuff. I looks around to see if there are still prying eyes—most notably, the keeper's. I pick a bunch of papers and throw them in my backpack. Then, I notice something gleaming in the plastic bin. A torch? Who is dumb enough to throw a lit torch in the trash?

It gives me a useful hint, though. There's a small yellow postnote on it. It reads, 'If you think you're smart, you won't have issues digging through garbage.' I can't recognize the handwriting, but I'm sure someone from the Club wrote the note.

Thanks to the torch, I notice a lot of misplaced items that shouldn't be recycled with plastic, including a tin box, a journal and a small plastic bag with lots of colored paper notes. I unlit the torch and close the bins. I collect everything I've gathered and prepare to leave the building when I hear footsteps. The keeper is coming.

I walk in the direction opposite his for a while; unfortunately, as I'm close to the back exit, I trip. My backpack doesn't come unzipped, but I've been caught. "What are you doing here, Rieleigh?" asks the keeper, bewildered at my presence. "You should be at home, darling."

I lie to him. "Oh, sorry, I forgot something in class and had to pick it up. Now that I got it, I'll leave. Please don't tell teachers." I sound pitiful when I beg him; at least, he believes me. He guides me to the main exit, where he warns me to be more careful.

"Thank you, sir. Next time, I'll make sure not to leave anything behind." I wave him goodbye and leave, hiding a grin of satisfaction. I can't want to be home and dissect all I've found. Hopefully, this material is good enough to expose someone's dirty business.

***

At home, I wait to be alone to start analyzing the material I possess. Mom and Dad are out for dinner, while Ella has been invited to a sleepover. This means I have plenty of time for my mission.

I start from the plastic bag with the colored notes. I carefully untie the knot; then, I spill the notes on my desk. Most of them contain phone numbers. I write them down on a white paper, which I fold and put in my diary. Those numbers will come in handy in the future.

Only four of the colored papers in that bag don't contain phone numbers. One is empty; the remaining three have what seems to be a message in code written on it. One of them says, '13-5-5-20 13-5 1-20 20-8-5 2-12-5-1-3-8-3-18-19.' I wonder what this sequence of numbers means.

I move on to the second note. '9 3-1-14-20 1-6-6-15-18-4 20-8-5 20-18-9-16 19-15-18-18-25.' Honestly, I can't see any correlation to the previous message. They all seem a bunch of numbers randomly thrown in. Maybe the author of the notes is an avid Lotto fan.

The last one is much shorter. '8-5-12-16 13-5!' Okay, this is a secret code. I hope that, among the rest of the stuff I collected in the school's trash, there's also a way to crack it.