The Proof is in the Butter—PartThree

I always ask myself "Was it worth it?" whether my choices were the right ones, whether I could have done anything differently. I think this is the case for most teens.

As teenagers, we're in a constant battle with the world around us, the people around us... and most of all, ourselves. I hate to admit it, but after sending Butterball's pictures to everyone in the office (including the two heads of the company), I couldn't help but think maybe I was being a tad childish.

That feeling flew through the door the moment I heard the glorious sound of cantankerous laughter throughout the office. A few minutes after returning to my cubicle, Simmy poked her head in.

"Oh ... My... GOD..." she said very much like a cheerleader who has just witnessed a complex cheer routine. "She had told me about those pics, but I never knew they were so... ew."

"Ew" was right.

One look at the red, bulbous ball (no pun intended) that was supposedly Butterball lying on a white, sandy beach was enough to send the office into an uproar for the rest of the day.

Surprisingly, Butterball kept a very low profile and didn't show her face in my cubicle for the remainder of the afternoon. But on Monday morning, she marched into my office with a very stern expression on her face.

"I trusted you!" she hissed angrily.

"I'm sorry?" I asked, feigning surprise very much akin to a woman finding out she is pregnant with a porcupine.

"Don't play dumb! You knew about the pictures and you sent them to everyone!"

I coughed slightly and looked her dead in the eye. "I don't think I was the only one who knew about your pictures." It was all I could do to keep myself from rolling on the floor in fits of laughter. "Maybe if you didn't keep so many enemies in the office, this may not have happened."

"I know it was you!" Her voice began to rise and I was sure people in the surrounding cubicles could hear. "I don't know what I did to you but-"

"I have a lot of work to do," I cut her off, and she realised she wasn't going to be able to intimidate me. She sulked off.

But I knew Butterball wasn't going to go down without a good fight, so it came as no surprise when I got a call around 10 a.m. to come up to one of my bosses' office.

"Good morning Boss1," I said. Boss1 is a nice guy, a bit hasty in some of his actions, but an overall bearable individual.

"Feisty... bad news eh. Butters came up to me and gave me a story I hope isn't true!"

I raised one of my eyebrows.

"She say yuh went onto her computer and send all those pictures on Friday." Boss1 surveyed me closely.

"Butterball has a tendency to stretch the truth," I said. "I figured that out within my first two weeks." Boss1 looked slightly taken aback. This is what I love about being so young and working in an office full of people who generally are not as smart as I am. I'm always able to surprise them with the things I say. I'm sure Boss1 expected me to break down in tears with a free-flowing confession. Ha.

"Well..." he pondered. "I have to ask anyway: Did you send those pictures?"

For a minute, the thought crossed my mind to tell the truth. Two seconds later, I realised telling the truth was the stupidest thing I could do. "Nope," I said nonchalantly. "I wouldn't be surprised if she sent the pictures herself just to frame me. She's never liked me." I shrugged as if to say this was the end of my statement, and Boss1 nodded.

"Well, Butters has been working here for more than 10 years, so you have to understand that she has a certain level of authority-"

"Does that authority give her the right to tell lies about people?" I countered. "Or spread gossip or turn people against each other? I thought I left high school back in high school, but I was obviously mistaken."

"OK, Feisty... I understand where yuh coming from. Well, we have no proof, so is Butterball's word against yours, but I trust you. Just keep a low profile for now."

"Thanks, sir," I said, turning and leaving his office. On the way back to my cubicle, I passed Butterball's office and looked in.

"Oh, FYI," I said breezily, "don't ever underestimate me."

She looked as if she had just been smacked across the face with the phonebook.

And so I ask myself, "Was it worth it?"

The answer: Hell yes.

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