And so I did. 
I recreated myself the summer after that year, all my tennis gear shoved into boxes and thrown away with the garbage. I bought new clothes and darker makeup and higher heels. I went to parties and got drunk and kissed boys I had never met before. I met Felipe and got a fake ID and found the wonders of pot. I blew my boyfriend regularly and had sex with him while high—always high.
This is what people that care for each other do, Isa. 
I may or may not have cheated on Felipe on an every-two-weeks basis. It was only hand jobs and offering my mouth for fuck. The only time I cheated cheated—kisses and sex and all—was in the spring break of our sophomore year. It was also the first time I took Molly. And holy fuck, how good a simple pill made me feel. With it, I didn't fear others' touch. With it, I was dancing in a haze of mutual freedom and destruction. 
Two years in the past, my weekends had been filled with tournaments and practices and social work the tennis league did. But then, my weekends usually went by in buzz, high, and loud songs. I always found a new guy to party with. It was not that hard as long as I played my role of cool girl. 
The one that eats pizza and drinks canned beer and still maintains her size two. Waxes her pussy raw and is always up for sex. That is uninhibited and the life of the party. Tells dirty jokes and pretends not to care about looking good. Easygoing, never mad. Who likes whatever her guy does. 
It was all about them. The guys. The coaches. The stolen first kisses. 
Deep down, it was a trade, I had learned it early in life. You give them the feeling of an experience, and then you are rewarded with pills or shots or a ride in their yachts. Once, I got tickets to see Cage the elephant. Another time, I got a brand new camera from one professor I had taken a photography course with.
So I may have been a whore. Or a simple lie. But at least, I was not the one being branded anymore. The next morning, I wouldn't remember their faces, much less their names. They, however, would forever remember me. They would tell their friends about the wildest fuck they ever had. They would dream about my mouth. I had been their best blow. And I knew I had been, most of them had moaned so. And I smirked and said duh, I was well trained. They laughed because they thought it was a joke. I laughed too. 
Because I wish it had been. 
You want to be the best, don't you? Let me teach you, Isa.
"Shut up!" I screamed at the voice. His voice. I could hear it, taunting me. And I could feel his fingers like spider legs all over my skin. 
I knew none of that was real. But it seemed as real as the air I breathed in. As real as the girl standing in the middle of the road a minute before. She had had blonde hair and a haunted look behind her grey eyes. She was a girl shaking on a hotel bed waiting for her coach to sneak in. And she was a girl in front of my car looking straight at me. 
As if begging for something. Help or mercy. I hadn't been able to tell.  
For a moment, I was going to run her over, my pupils glued on her figure, foot pressing on the pedal. But in the last second, my cigarette fell between my legs and I abruptly swerved. 
I dodged her, cutting the car in the right lane off. 
I hadn't seen a thing. I only felt the tip of my car bumping against something hard and then my forehead hitting the wheel. I smelt burnt leather and tasted iron in my mouth. I heard tires squealing and metal bending in itself. Glass shattering, a loud collision, maybe even a scream.