“Mish! Get your ass down, dinner is ready,” my younger sister, Evelyn, shouted from downstairs. I came back from school three hours ago and I’ve been on my bed sulking and constantly resisting the urge to scream at the top of my voice.

Mrs. Shantel and Mr. Brett? How long has that been going on under my nose? I stalked Mr. Brett well enough to have known. I sat up swiftly and stretched my hand to pick my phone from my nightstand. Impatiently, I logged into Instagram.

Pfft, of course I’m not on Instagram. I logged in with my sister’s account. Being bullied offline is only the much I can...