All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
Bottom of the Food Chain
Some kids are excited to start the first day of school, some kids get excited over a new puppy, and some kids become excited over dating the coolest guy in the whole school; but me, I never get excited, only because nothing exciting ever happens to me. My name is Bertha Lockwell, yes Bertha is an extremely lame name, but my mom told me that it was unique, so I went with it. I am the kid with the nerdy needle-point-bright-red-orange-sequined glasses that everyone makes fun of, the kid that sits on a toilet seat in the school bathroom at lunch to eat out of her hello-kitty thermos that her mom packed specially with left-over Mac-n-cheese, and yes the kid that always has orange fruity flavored gum stuck on the bottom of her light-up sketchers. That’s me, and I am at the bottom of the 8th grade food chain.
This year, I made a new grade resolution: actually talk to someone without them responding in a negative way, like, “Whatever loser,” or, “get out of my way freak.” And this year I plan to make it happen.
I hobbled into English class as I normally did (I always walk ill of ease to make sure that no one can see when my shoes beam with color). I glanced blankly over at the spiffiest boy in my grade, Tyler; he was looking as stunning as ever, with huge, gorgeous blue pools shaped around his mysterious-black pupils, dazzling brown hair draped over his head, long enough to barley reach his earlobe, clean polo shirt, tidy kaki pants, wonderful. Whoosh! Smack! While dazing into his luxurious complexion, I lost focus of my direction and had completely and utterly tripped over a snag in the blue-gray carpet and landed face-first onto the floor. I did a complete sideways-summersault and somehow managed to land upright next to my teacher Mr. Paylo. Thankfully he was paying no attention to me, as always, but full attention to Macy Gardener, the blonde-haired-brown-eyed teachers pet. I looked quickly behind me to see if anyone else had caught my acrobatic stunt, and sure enough, Tyler’s amazing eyes were dead-locked on me. I bent down on my knees and shuffled my hands around on the floor to find my glasses. When I found them I put them on as quick as possible and turned my face away from Tyler, hoping with all of my might that he didn’t know it was me.
Getting fully embarrassed in English class: check.
Almost killing myself in front of Tyler: check.
Riiinnng! English was over, I was relieved as I bolted out of the classroom to find that no one was in the halls yet. It gave me just enough time to open my locker, climb into it, and slam the metal door shut.
Although I get really lonely in my locker, it gives me time to make excuses on why I am missing science every day due to my regular schedule of inside-my-locker time. This is just something I do during science because all of the popular girls are in that class, and everyday they would call me names like “freak show” or “undateable” and even sometimes swearwords that I didn’t even know existed. Then they would call over the strongest people in the class to drag me into the boys bathroom and duct tape me to the wall for humiliation. It was just a bit too tiring having to plug my nose and shut my eyes every time a guy came in to go to the bathroom and that is when I thought of the locker plan.
* * * * *
A few days passed and yet nothing changed. It started to get annoying having to remember to keep a paperclip in my extremely small pocket to be able to open my locker from the inside. But it was better than watching boys… you get the point.
It was now English once again, and today I had a new idea on how not to humiliate myself in front of Tyler and the rest of the class: I tied my hair back so I could see better and to lessen the chance of me falling, I also wore a tight-fitting shirt and skinny jeans to make sure that I wouldn’t trip over any loose clothing.
Here it goes….. don’t trip bertha… don’t trip.
“Hey Bertha! Love the shirt!” I looked behind me and to my surprise Sara from history was looking straight at me and actually complemented me!
8th grade resolution: check.
“Ah… um… ah… thank you,” I struggled to say. I continued to walk into the classroom. I walked all the way to my desk managing not to trip I looked over my shoulder at Tyler and guess what…. he was looking at me smiling, not a “ha-ha you freak, you just fell flat on your face,” smile, it was a friendly, warm smile. My heart pounded a million-times a second and my palms were sweating more than they ever have. I jerked my head around so I wouldn’t pass out from staring at his drop-dead-gorgeous looks.
Manage to get Tyler’s attention in a good way: excitingly: check.