13. Kira

13KIRA

In an instant, all of McKayleigh’s righteousness floods away.

“What the hell?” Her eyes snap to the cameras. “Okay, listen. Tilly, or ‘the Sponsor,’ whoever you think you are, this needs to stop. Right now. My daddy’s one of the most powerful lawyers in the country, and he’ll sue the pants off your smug little—”

Another message cuts her off.

Let’s play spot the difference

This time, the message has pictures, a series of Instagram screenshots. Heart thudding, I open the first one. McKayleigh, posing in one of her Bless by Kaylz pieces, a white linen jumpsuit with a complicated strappy pattern on the back. I swipe to the second one and dread pools in my stomach.

Another girl, her face and Instagram handle blurred out. All we can see is the girl’s braids, brown skin, and what she’s wearing: a jumpsuit, practically identical to McKayleigh’s. Except this girl posted the picture six months before McKayleigh did, and it got only a few hundred likes. McKayleigh’s got five hundred thousand.

Something hard and angry takes shape inside of me, growing roots. I swipe through the rest of the pictures, and the pattern is clear. McKayleigh in the swimsuit she was wearing last night, then another girl in the same one, just a different shade. McKayleigh modeling a pair of dangly earrings, then a screenshot of those same earrings from a small Etsy shop.

And then, at the very end of the stream of pictures, there’s a screenshot of a DM exchange.

Hey McKayleigh. Since you’ve been deleting my comments idk what to do except DM you. The jumpsuit you just posted as part of your collection is really similar to one I posted last year. I designed it myself, and yours has an almost identical back and strap design. You seriously can’t even give me credit for the inspo?

Hey girl! I’m sorry you feel that way but I’ve literally never seen your account before? Hahaha like no offense, ur stuff is really cute!! But if u google linen jumpsuits you find so many that look like this?? So maybe don’t go around claiming people stole stuff from you without doing ur research xoxo

Sorry but the similarities are too much for me to think you’ve never seen my picture before. I’m not even asking you for anythingexcept credit. Even a tag would do so much for me as a small creator

Ok honestly sorry girl but you sound so thirsty rn. Please stop contacting me about this or my lawyers will be getting involved

I look up from my screen to McKayleigh’s face. Her jaw is clenched, nostrils flared. She doesn’t look sorry, or even embarrassed. She looks pissed. And then, like she’s just realized how bad this looks for her, she works her face into a calm expression.

“I don’t know why y’all are looking at me that way.”

“Because you stole from people and then threatened to sue them,” Corinne says, her expression steel. “Do you seriously not see what’s wrong with that?”

McKayleigh clamps her mouth shut.

Corinne laughs harshly. “Pleading the Fifth, then. Was that Daddy’s advice?”

Aaron snorts. When McKayleigh glares at him, he shrugs. “I mean, it’s kind of funny.”

“I don’t have to explain anything,” McKayleigh spits.

“Seriously?” I ask, too disgusted to stay quiet. “You can’t act like this isn’t wrong.” When she doesn’t answer, I turn to Graham and Zane. “Did you know she was doing this?”

Zane shakes his head sharply. “Bless by Kaylz is her own thing. We didn’t—”

McKayleigh cuts him off with a scoff. “Typical.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

“She means your number-one concern is always saving your own ass,” Logan says.

McKayleigh looks almost surprised, but gives Zane a pointed look. “See? Even Logan gets it.”

“Hold on, I’m not backing you up,” Logan tells her. “To be super clear, I had no idea you were stealing from people, and I think it sucks. Like, a new low, even for you.”

Before McKayleigh can say anything else, we get another message. The room goes silent. This time, it’s a video. I press PLAY. It’s a screen recording from Instagram, an account called @theIRLproject. I can feel us all collectively holding our breath as whoever’s controlling the account navigates to their drafts and chooses one, a carousel of all the pictures we just saw. They type out a caption:

Looks like @mckayleighhill has some explaining to do. And I don’t think Kaylz is #blessed enough to get away with this one …

The account hits post, and then it’s done. Proof of McKayleigh’s lies flies out into the world for everyone to see.

For half a second, all I can think is good. But one look at McKayleigh’s terrified face, and it hits me, what’s really at stake here. Those folders aren’t empty. Tilly and whoever she’s working with think they know our secrets, and they intend to share them.

“Delete this,” McKayleigh hisses at the cameras. “Someone better delete this right effing now.”

She looks back at the group, her expression shifting from fear to disgust. Following her gaze, I realize why: Max has his camera out and pointed directly at her.

“What is your problem?” she blows up at him. “I don’t know if you think this is cute, or something, but you need to get that thing out of everyone’s faces or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll sue?” Max finishes, dripping with sarcasm.

Her jaw drops.

“Damn,” Elody says. “No offense, babe, but this is getting kind of good.”

McKayleigh huffs. “Maybe I should sue.”

“Do you get off on legal action, or something?” Corinne asks, rage vibrating in her voice. “Because I’m still struggling to understand why you think it’s okay to steal from smaller creators and creators of color and then threaten them with lawsuits when they finally call you out on it.”

McKayleigh rolls her eyes. “What, so I’m a villain for being inspired by other people? There literally aren’t any original ideas anymore. Everyone does this.”

“That’s bullshit,” I tell her. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

She shoots a look at Zane and Graham. “Aren’t y’all going to back me up on this?”

Graham shifts. “I don’t know, Kaylz. What you did is pretty messed up.”

Zane just shakes his head.

“Fine. Go ahead and stab me in the back, then.” She laughs bitterly. “I bet y’all even voted for me, too.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Zane grumbles.

“Well, you’re not denying it!”

“We didn’t vote for you,” Zane snaps. “Chill out.”

“That!” McKayleigh stands, jabbing a finger at him. “That’s what I’m so freaking tired of! It’s like y’all think I’m some stupid Southern belle who can’t do anything but look pretty and dance around. I’m one of the founders of the Bounce House, just as much as y’all are. I’m literally an entrepreneur, and y’all act like that’s nothing!”

“You’re not an entrepreneur.”

It comes out of me before I can stop it, and now, everyone’s eyes are on me. McKayleigh’s face is dangerously still.

“What did you just say?” she asks slowly, like she doesn’t think she heard me right.

“You’re not an entrepreneur, McKayleigh,” I say, louder now. And suddenly, it’s like the floodgates are open, everything I’ve wanted to say for years spilling out in an unstoppable rush. “Your name is on a business. Fine. But you’re not an entrepreneur. You stole those designs. You haven’t worked for anything, ever. The only reason you have a platform at all is because you have rich parents who could pick up and move to Dallas when you got cast on a TV show, and then when you got on that TV show, you said awful things about me and everyone else on the team just to get more screen time. And for some reason people loved that, so here you are, acting like you’re some kind of self-made success when all you ever do is knock people down just to get what you want. So maybe, for once, you can stop making this about yourself and own up to your bullshit.”

For a second, McKayleigh stares in stunned silence. I’m breathing fast, my heart fluttering and my face flushed like I just finished a long run, and that’s what this feels like—victory. Power.

Then, she smiles.

“You know what, Kir?” She gives the nickname extra venom. “You’re right. Maybe I’ve done some things I shouldn’t be proud of. Maybe I’m privileged. But if you think that hiding at home with your sweet little family and your normal little high school makes you better than me, then bless your heart, honey, but you’ve got it all wrong. You could be exactly where I am if you wanted to. But you know the difference between you and me?” She looks me up and down, her smile turning even more saccharine. “You don’t have the guts.”

I want to say something, to fight back, but my mouth is frozen with a mix of anger and disgust. McKayleigh knows exactly what she’s doing. She isn’t sorry, and she’s never going to change. She has no reason to: this sweet-little-Southern-girl act has always worked for her, and it always will.

McKayleigh sniffs and grabs her sun hat, indicating the end of this conversation.

“Now, if we’re all done berating me, I need some air.” She sticks the hat sharply on her head and marches to the front door, giving me one last look before she goes. “Don’t y’all have too much fun without me.”

She slams the door behind her.