The Post

Rain streaked the windows like trembling fingers, tracing the outlines of Emma’s shadow as she crouched over her phone. The screen glowed blue in the darkness, illuminating her face in fragments—eyes wide, lips slightly parted, heart hammering like a drum beneath her ribs. On the feed, two names sat beneath a heart emoji, a digital spark that had ignited the entire school. She remembered the first whisper, soft and sly, curling around lockers like smoke. “Did you hear?” The words had been almost delicate, yet sharp as broken glass. Emma’s chest had tightened at the sound, a flash of nausea, and yet her ears had hung on every syllable, because everyone else had. Everyone else had to know. The hallway had smelled of old pizza and wet coats that day, a mix of warmth and decay, and shadows of laughing students stretched long across the walls. Emma could still see the way heads leaned together, the glint of curiosity in eyes that didn’t belong to her. A part of her had wanted to vanish into a locker corner, curl into the smell of mildew and forgotten backpacks, but the rumor followed her like a predator. She blinked, and the cafeteria came alive in her memory—laughter bubbling over trays of soggy fries, whispered smirks, eyes darting. The rumor had teeth, gnawing at trust, leaving everyone raw. She remembered last year, sharing a secret with someone she loved—a fragile thing, almost invisible, held in trembling hands. That trust had vanished in hours, swallowed by careless words. She shivered at the memory. The posts kept coming, each a wave in the digital tide. Pictures, captions, emojis—designed to sting, to hook. Everyone followed. Everyone clicked. Emma could almost hear the typing of invisible fingers, feel the pulse of notifications like tiny electric shocks to her chest. The phone felt heavier with each scroll, a leaden reminder that every eye in school was now watching, judging, consuming. A flash of the two students appeared in her mind’s eye: walking the hallway, unaware of the storm around them, faces calm, shadows unaware. She imagined them reading the posts late at night, alone, the glow of screens cold against skin, the silence of rooms pressing in. A tight knot formed in her stomach. She could almost feel the rumor as a physical weight, pressing down, suffocating. A single notification blinked on the screen. Emma’s finger hovered above it. She remembered her own impulse, countless times before, to click, to see, to chase the gossip like a moth to flame. But this time—she paused. She imagined a world where words weren’t arrows, where people could stop before throwing lies into the pond of everyone else’s life. She pictured kindness, quiet, intentional—like the soft rain washing over the city streets outside. Outside, puddles shimmered under streetlights, distorted reflections trembling like fragile truths. Emma set the phone face down, feeling the cool weight of possibility settle on her chest. For the first time, the room felt still. The storm of whispers might rage elsewhere, but here, she had a choice. And maybe that choice was enough. make it suitable for grade 10. make a good prompt about it, show like a cinematic split screen prompt that showcases the story and makes it better, at the end "by Mona Badawieh"