Therapy (5 page)

Tell me Bully

What would you do if you were me and I were you?

It’s Monday morning and I have the awful task of facing everyone at school today, knowing they all know about what happened this weekend. I walk down the hallway and I hear the whispers, see the stares. I reach my locker, thankful that there aren’t any notes splayed across it.

Without turning around, I know someone’s behind me. No, not someone. It’s him. I can feel his presence, the strange vibration between us.

“Hey, Jessica. How are you feeling? Better than when I last saw you, I hope,” he says quietly.

I can’t believe he’s standing here in the hallway in front of everyone talking to me.

Is he crazy?

Apparently he’s out of his ever-loving mind. If Elizabeth sees him talking to me, she’ll have a complete shit fit. I shut my locker and pull my notebook up into my chest. I do my best to avoid his eyes as I try to walk around him.

“You’re going to make things worse if Elizabeth or Hailey or anyone, for that matter, sees you talking to me. Please, just go away. I’m thankful for what you did, but please don’t let them see you with me,” I say, low enough that only he can hear.

I walk quickly toward class, and though I don’t look to confirm it, I can sense him keeping up beside me. God, he’s insane. Does he want me to get the shit beat out of me again?

“What the hell are you doing, Jace?” I hiss as I meet his eyes. “Do you really want them to see?”

“I told you, I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’m not Elizabeth’s puppet like the rest of them.”

I stop staring at him, confusion circling around in my mind. “What about the risk you’re putting me at? If they see me talking to you, they’ll go batshit crazy in two seconds flat,” I say, frowning.

He lets out a chuckle, and my mouth drops open. “What? Are you really laughing at me right now?” I ask.

He crosses his muscular arms across his chest and smiles at me.

“Yes, yes I am, actually. What is
batshit crazy
exactly, Jessica? I’m curious to know,” he teases.

He’s making fun of me, laughing at me. I cock my head to the side and glare at him. My anger gives way to confusion and—I can’t help it—a smile finds its way to my lips. I feel a blush tiptoe across my cheeks.

This is a nightmare!

I can’t stand in the hallway of the school and flirt with Jace Collins, boyfriend to my archenemy. This is a death wish in the making.

“See, I made you smile! Don’t you feel better now? You can’t be mad at someone when they’re making you smile. It’s a fact!” His blue eyes glitter, and the white of his perfect teeth kills me. He’s so handsome, beautiful, actually. Not in a feminine way, but in a totally masculine, virile way.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile. You should do it more often,” he says as he swaggers off in front of me.

I can’t wipe the smile off my face the entire rest of the walk down the hallway. Dropping my head, I try to conceal my happiness. I pray that no one saw our little conversation take place. I think he’s right; this may be the first time I’ve ever had a reason to smile within the walls of this school. I make my way to first period English and sit in my regular seat toward the back of the room. I walk past Jace as he grins up at me and winks.

What the hell?

He’s totally flirting with me. Or maybe it’s just his way of being friendly. I can’t decipher his intentions and it’s driving me crazy.

Elizabeth and Hailey enter the room, drawing all eyes in their direction with their loud and obnoxious voices. I look down at my notebook, avoiding eye contact with them. I slump down into my chair and shrink away from them as much as I can.

“I see that you survived your ass kicking, Jessica. How are those ribs feeling this morning?” Hailey says, but I don’t look up. Hoping Mrs. Alcott will come in soon, I just keep my eyes down.

“Leave her alone, Hailey! Do you really think being such a bitch is attractive?”

I lift my eyes just enough to see Jace defend me. Elizabeth’s mouth drops open in shock and she scowls at Jace. My stomach lurches as he rips his eyes away from hers to meet mine. I can feel heat bloom across my face and I hope like hell no one can see the unspoken exchange between us. Just then, Mrs. Alcott comes in and clears her throat, drawing the attention away from us.

“Okay, everyone, please take your seats and get your homework from the weekend out,” she says as she pushes her glasses up on the bridge of her nose.

Jace gives me a weak smile and turns around in his seat. I pull my homework out for our poetry assignment. We had to write a poem and bring in a quote from a famous person to share with the class. Thank God we only have to share the quote in front of the class. I don’t think I could handle putting my poetry out there for everyone to scrutinize and judge. My palms are sweaty at the thought of having to speak in front of everyone as it is.

“Who wants to share their chosen quote first?” Mrs. Alcott asks. Of course, Elizabeth’s hand shoots up. She always has to be the center of attention.

“I will, Mrs. Alcott,” she says in her high-pitched, energetic, perky voice.

“Okay, Miss Brant. You may go first.”

Elizabeth pulls her paper out and flips her hair over her shoulder as she stands up. She’s wearing skintight jeans, a fancy lace top, large chandelier earrings, and too much makeup. Nothing new—she always dresses like a Barbie doll.

“The quote I chose is by A.J. McClean: ‘I look good, and, not to sound conceited, I sound good too,’” she says with a little giggle toward the end.

God, how rich is that? Yeah, real deep, Elizabeth.

Several of her minions clap like she just cured world hunger or something with that shit-for-an-excuse quote. No matter how ignorant she makes herself out to be, they all salivate over her every word and action. It’s pathetic.

“Okay, Miss Brant. Thank you for sharing...that insightful quote,” Mrs. Alcott says, obviously not fooled.

“How about you, Miss Alexander? Can you go next and share your chosen quote with the class?”

I chew on my lower lip as I slowly rise from my chair. I take a deep breath, briefly close my eyes, then exhale. I unfold my paper, trying to keep my hands from shaking.

“Um...my quote is by Lao Tzu: ‘Man’s enemies are not demons, but human beings just like himself,’” I mutter before sitting back down.

Feeling everyone’s eyes upon me, I want to be invisible at this very moment. I know people understand the implied meaning behind the quote.

“Miss Alexander, that was very moving. Thank you for sharing. Who wants to go next?”

Jace raises his hand. “I will, Mrs. Alcott.”

“All right, Jace. Please, go ahead.”

All six feet of him stands and turns slightly, half-facing my direction. My eyes dart back and forth between him and my desktop.

“My quote is by Albert Einstein: ‘The world is a dangerous place, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing.’” He slowly looks up, directly into my eyes, and then sits back down.

I feel utterly exposed staring at Jace, completely immobilized. As he turns back around, everything in the room feels fuzzy. Elizabeth’s eyes pin me down, and I know her next explosion is coming soon.

“It’s amazing and sad what we have to do

to survive sometimes.”

—Corey Taylor

THE BELL RINGS and my impending doom settles heavily on my shoulders. I feel like Elizabeth can sense that Jace is befriending me, and I know she’s going to be furious about it. Why is it that the first time a guy seems to genuinely give a shit about me and my suck-fest of a life, he has to be the guy that the most evil bitch in the school lays claim to? Just my luck, I guess.

I sit in my chair and wait for others to leave the room ahead of me, taking my time to put my books away just right, hoping she’ll leave without trying to start some more shit with me. Sitting here, I really just want to claw my way out of this room and get away from her and the judgment that she always bestows upon me.

I watch as Elizabeth prances out of the room, clenching onto Jace’s arm to prove her ownership of him—like he’s some dog and she’s his dutiful master. I’m completely relieved knowing that I don’t have to face her right now. I leave the classroom feeling like I can breathe again. Word has seemed to travel quickly, because I see more and more people stare and laugh at me. Is getting beat up really that fascinating? If they only knew how my life really was... It would probably give them nightmares.

I make my way to my locker, continuously scanning the hallway for the Barbie squad of bitches. As I look farther down, I see Jace. He has his back to me, but I can see Elizabeth standing closely in front of him with a serious frown on her face. There’s no way I’m going that way during some verbal smackdown between the two of them, especially when it may have something to do with me. I turn in the opposite direction and go into the girls bathroom, a place that I usually avoid at all costs unless it’s an emergency. Being trapped in here with one of them is the last thing I want to add to my growing list of things I never want to be faced with.

I anxiously wait for the bell to ring, and realize I couldn’t care less about being tardy as long as I don’t have to get caught up in the argument Jace is having with her. I poke my head out of the bathroom and see that the hallway has cleared. I make my way to class and accept my tardy slip without guilt.

The day drags on and I continue to hide in plain sight. The stares and whispers have seemed to dissipate due to the new gossip floating around. Apparently, Erin Simpson was knocked up by one of the football players and it’s the new big news. Thanks to her lack of condom usage, my story has become the lesser of the gossiping evils today.

PE and the locker room, lunchtime and the cafeteria—these are the worst times and places of my day. Unfortunately, they’re back-to-back. I suppose I could try to see the upside to this scheduling nightmare and be glad that it’s all over in one fell swoop, but nothing can make me happy about these times of day.

As I make my way to the gym, dread seeps from my pores. The girls locker room is a battleground. There are two main groups in here: the girls who are someone and the girls who are no one. My problem is that I don’t belong to either group. I’m in between them, in the purgatory-type space between being on top and being on the bottom. This is the worst space to be in when the entire reason you’re here is because you’re hated. I have a target with a huge bull’s-eye directly on my back, and the biggest group of somebodies in the school put it there.

We have to play volleyball today in gym and I do everything I can to be unnoticeable. Elizabeth and her crew prance out with their T-shirts tied in knots in the back, because they couldn’t possibly wear a baggy gym shirt without showing off their perfect bodies. They whisper and snicker while cutting their eyes my way, but I ignore them the best I can throughout class.

Finally, it’s shower time. I move quickly to my locker, gathering my shower stuff and towel. I choose the farthest shower and turn on the water. I hang my towel on the hook outside the shower curtain and step inside. Suddenly, I hear laughter and immediately recognize Hailey’s voice.

“That slut deserves it. She likes to be naked anyway. Might as well force her to show the entire school what she shows all the guys every weekend.”

More laughter and sneers flood the steamy, clouded locker room air and I close my eyes, not wanting to know what they’re up to this time. I pull the curtain back slightly and peek out. Immediately, I see the bare towel hook and realize that they’ve taken my towel. My heart races and my stomach drops. My locker is far from the showers. This means I have to walk naked, exposing all of my scars that no one knows about. It’s the one thing that belongs to me and only me. My secret. My physical scars that represent my emotional wounds.

I look down at my wet, scarred body and back up under the water. It cascades down over me as tears escape my eyes. My tears blend with the water and my misery becomes camouflaged—sadness and desolation that never goes away. I back up against the tile wall and slide down to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. I quietly sob, not wanting them to hear, and wait ‘til I know everyone’s left the locker room.

My skin has wrinkled from the water and I tremble as the cold air attacks my skin. I cover my scars with my hands the best I can and pad across the cold tile floor to my locker. As soon as I see my locker, I feel sick. It’s wide open and my clothes are gone. A sign on the inside of my locker door reads
SLUTS DON’T NEED CLOTHES
. My eyes desperately search back and forth, looking for anything to cover my body with as panic sets in. I start pulling on locker doors, frantically trying to find one that will open so I can find something—anything—to hide myself with. Then the locker room door flies open and Elizabeth walks in, holding up her iPhone and snapping photo after photo of me.

“Pose, Jessica. Show us what you’ve got. Show the world what you give the boys on the weekends—that nasty STD-infected snatch you hand out like Chiclets. Show everyone what the school slut has to offer.”

Hailey pulls out her phone and begins to snap photos too. They both laugh as they grab my clothes and throw them at me.

“Here, bitch. Get dressed; you’re making me sick. Nasty ho, walking around naked, like anyone wants to see your disgusting shit.”

Their laughter echoes off the walls, reverberating around the room and through my heart, as they turn and walk out. I quickly scramble for my clothes, now wrinkled in piles on the floor. My hands are shaking and tears are running down my cheeks. I tremble on wobbly legs as I pull on my panties and pants. My T-shirt and bra are wet, but I don’t care. I throw my wet hair up into a ponytail and put my shoes on.

I have to figure out what to do about the photos. In all these years, I’ve never told on them for anything, but I can’t let them put those photos up on the Internet. I quickly make my way to the coach’s office and gently knock on the door before entering.

“Excuse me, Coach Hines, can I talk to you?”

She raises her head from her work and examines me up and down. “Sure, Jessica, but first I just want you to know that Elizabeth and Hailey were in here after class and they told me about the issues they are having with you.”

What? She has got to be kidding.

“I won’t get involved in boyfriend girlfriend drama, but I will tell you that if you’re sending inappropriate pictures of yourself to Hailey’s boyfriend while at school, it will be grounds for expulsion.”

Of course they came out here and told her some big lie to cover their asses. My eyes drop to the floor in shame as I nervously pick at my nails.

“Now, what is it you want to talk to me about?” she asks, as if she’s irritated with me about what they told her.

“It’s nothing, Coach. Never mind.”

I knew there was a reason I’ve never told. It’s pointless. No one cares, and no one sees the hate that passes through these hallways each day. They’re blind to it all.

The dismissal bell is the sweetest sound I’ve heard all day. I can’t wait to get to my car. I walk across the parking lot, but stop dead in my tracks when I see Jace leaning up against my Honda smiling at me. I look around nervously, scanning the parking lot to see if anyone else is seeing this. Maybe it’s a mirage, which would mean I’m dying of thirst and he’s my only drink of water. My feet feel like they’re superglued to the asphalt beneath me as I stand here looking like a damn fool.

Jace pushes off my car and starts walking in my direction. What on God’s green earth is he doing? Suddenly, a car pulls up beside him. It’s that jackhole Harrison whom I now hate with a passion.

I pick my feet up, forcing them to move forward and hoping that Pencil Penis will distract Jace long enough for me to get to my car before he has a chance to approach me. Ignoring the fact that he’s waiting for me seems like the best plan in this situation.

As I close in on my car, I rustle through my ginormous purse, which has more shit in it than an episode of
Hoarders
, and look for my keys. If I’m ever in an alley or parking lot with a kidnapper lurking late at night, I’m completely screwed. It always takes me forfreakingever to find my keys!

“Hey, Jess!” I hear him call as his footsteps make their way toward me.

The fact that he just called me Jess makes me feel an odd sense of belonging. I try regaining my composure—as if I ever really had any to begin with—and turn around.

“I broke things off with Elizabeth, and I told her to leave you alone from here on out.”

My eyes widen and I grapple with a mixture of happiness and excruciating fear. For the millionth time, I wonder why he’s doing this for me. I really can’t comprehend it; it makes no sense at all. He could be friends with any girl in the entire school, so why me? Why the weird, quiet loner girl that everyone loves to gossip about? He’s popular, good-looking, and his family is loaded. Being friends with me is like some sick cliché.

We stand here with a ton of unspoken questions streaming between us. Whether or not he understands my questions, I can’t be sure. I know for a fact his answers aren’t coming across, though I think we both have an implicit want, maybe even need, for the other to get it, to hear the words we’re too afraid to speak. I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing. The sides of his lips curl up and he sticks his hand into his pocket, pulls out a toothpick, and flicks it into his mouth. He starts rolling it back and forth across his lips, chewing on it.

My God.

“I’m trying to stop smoking and this helps.”

“Okay,” I say flatly.

I really have no idea what to say or how to carry on a conversation with him. He’s so foreign to me that saying anything just seems all sorts of stupid and wrong. I feel like an idiot standing here staring at him like a deer in headlights, so I turn to unlock my car door. The urge to run and escape this awkward moment tugs at me. I’m accustomed to understanding what a guy wants from me. I usually always know what they expect from the get-go, but with Jace it’s like navigating in the dark without a flashlight.

“Hey, um, you maybe wanna come hang out at my house? We have a huge pool, so maybe we can do some laps or something? Get an early start on the swim season? If you’re game, that is.”

My hand starts to shake as I try to get the key into the door. His question catapults me into some freakish parallel universe where popular hot guys ask extremely unpopular outcast girls to hang out. I know I should stop obsessing over his intentions, but I can’t help it. Of course I want to hang out with him, but I know how I am. I attach myself to every guy who comes along. I turn into a chameleon of epic proportions and lose myself in each and every one of them. I try to be who I think they want me to be, clinging to the hope that they’ll love me in return. Ultimately, it always ends in disaster.