Chapter Eight

According to some research, gossip makes up about fifty-five percent of mens' conversations while womens' conversations are sixty-seven percent gossip. That's a much smaller gap than people usually think. But if you take time to listen or eavesdrop on other peoples' conversations, you can hear guys talking about the weekend teen news almost as much as the girls.

It's like the information mainstream. This person heard it from that person that this person did this to that other person, and that person's friend did this in return and this whole thing happened from that. You rely on this information for relationship advice (Jane told me to tell you that she heard that Mark's friend Anthony, who goes out with Sasha, who told Miranda to tell Michelle that Emily's boyfriend Matt, has a friend named Neil who's cousin, Devon might like you.), trash talk (Girl, I heard that Nala was saying some shit about you, like how you better watch your back. You better put her in check!), relationship forecasts (Hey, man, I heard Britt has a thing for Steve and that he's breaking up with Jilene to go out with her. Look out for that.), and teachers of course, (I heard Mr. McCale is getting fired. He was sleepin' around with that pretty student teacher I think. No wonder she always stayed so late with him. Gross.)

You don't want to listen to gossip, because you know all the consequences. It splits the best of friends, ruins the strongest relationships, and turns the most confident person paranoid. You know how to get rid of it. You tune your ears out. You don't say anything incriminating, you don't respond to it.

Or at least you try.

Because it's like a drug. It's so negative, yet so addicting. You can't get enough of it. You have to know what's going on. You hear how much of a slut Courtney is and you don't feel bad about all the hookups you've had. You know about Jake's family issues. It equalizes the dork-faced nerd with the hot football star.

Once there's something that could change the future or a person or persons the rumor spreads like wildfire. The fire travels from mouth to ear to mouth to ear. They don't care, they're not burned. Yet, the subject of the matter is left to deal with the scars.

Gossip is also like an illness. It spreads like a virus, infecting everyone it happens to pass by. Everyone knows, everyone is looking at you. They know something about you. You're vulnerable now. They have something against you and now it feels like you're alone. For all you know, they could sympathize with you, but no one is going to risk that. They stay on the side of the majority, to much of a coward to stand up with you.

Even the ones who smile to your face can be quick to leave you when it matters. They tell you about what a bitch Krystal is for atleast ten minutes. You know Krystal? Dark hair, brown eyes, blue shirt. The one your friend was just smiling and talking to just a minute ago. That Krystal.

That's why eveyone tells you to be careful about who you choose as your friends. Even if they're the trustworthy ones, they can be tempted easily.

In the end, it seems like you're alone for good.