They tell me that I am not good enough, that I am a waste of space. I try to ignore the knot that builds in my throat. I try to control the tears forming in my eyes. I try to ignore everyone around me laughing, laughing at me. I run. I run all the way across the school, to my second home. A place I visit too often. After I got my act together, I walked to my first block class.
“You’re late Ms. Gray. Do you have a pass?” I shake my head no and continue looking at the ground. He sighs and tells me to take a seat. I look around, and I see a empty seat away from everyone else. I trip about three times heading towards my desk. I fall on the cold, hard marble floor. I feel a sharp pain screeching through the side of my body. I think I broke something as I hear a crunching sound fill the classroom. Their roars of laughter fill my ears as my eyes begin to water. I ask if I could leave to go to the bathroom, and I exit the room without hearing the teacher’s response.
I go to the only place I feel welcome. It is un-lit, wintry, and smelt like mold. Even with all of these flaws, I continue to visit. It is like a reflection of myself. Full of sadness and loneliness, never seeing the light in anything and waiting for someone to make it feel good. It screams out for me, constantly yelling my name.
Whenever my mom picks me up from school, I dive into the vehicle. “Why are you in such a rush sweetie? Did you tell your friends goodbye?” She points towards the people who was just sitting with me. They aren’t my friends. They never will be. The only reason they were over there was so they could get a good laugh from my appearance. “Just drive mom. Please just drive.” I slouch in my seat and tried to think about ways to make my life easier. Mom really tries to understand what’s going on. She would never be able to understand that her daughter is the biggest loser on the face of the planet.
The next morning was the same old routine. Get dressed in some dorky clothes, get to school extra early, get laughed at, go to the secret spot, get tortured some more, rush out of school, and then go home after getting beat down some more. My life absolutely sucks. Trying to stay away from as many people as possible, I duck my head, and then I rush to the closet. The room that has saved my life. The room that keeps me human. The room that protects me from all of their words and them in general.
I remember when I had friends and wasn’t a nobody. Everybody loved me and adored me. I remember walking down the halls, and people actually acknowledged me. It is funny how everything can change over a period of a year.
We were at the party, and I was walking out of the living room. The room was far too small for the amount of people gathered in it. As I was leaving, Michael grabbed my wrist. He smiled brightly at me and pointed his head to the back door. I followed his lead and headed out back. It is pitch black, and I can’t see him. “Michael, psss, Michael.” I whisper trying to find out where he was. After a minute of no response, I go to walk back inside but, I run into something hard; it is moving. “You scared me Michael.” He didn’t say anything. All of a sudden he grabs me and kisses me forcefully. I hear a gasp, oh no. I turn to see Olivia with tears streaking her face. Her green eyes are blazing with anger, and her fists curled as tight as a worm inside a cocoon. “Olivia, it’s not what it--” She stalks off before I have the chance to tell her what really happened. I turned to look at at Michael and saw that he had no remorse on his face what-so-ever. I took a few steps forward and slapped him across his cheek.
I never felt so betrayed before in my life. Olivia never listened to what I had to say and stuck to his word. She believed that I liked him, and that I didn’t want her to know. Michael told her that I drug him outside, and that I came upon him. They are still dating. They are the “golden couple” at our school. They sit at the preppy table, and they have these little minions that do anything that they say to. Everyone loves Olivia, from her long blonde hair that flows whenever she walks to her deep green eyes that shine whenever she laughs. Michael is no different his brunette hair that is displayed on his angelic head as a little hump/spike in the middle and his twinkling blue eyes that make the stars look dim. Both of them are idoled by all. They have a small group of friends. You have to exceed perfect to even get to talk to them. You have to walk with your head held high and your nose in the air.
I used to love the attention that I got from hanging out with them. Now, I don’t know why I even talked to them with their prestigious ways and their sassy attitudes. I feel bad for the freshman who have no idea about their deceiving ways; they will just walk on top of them as if they are the welcome mat at the front door.
As I continue to remember why I don’t like them, I remember why I did like them. I enjoyed traveling down the halls and having people greet me and talk positive about me. Now they just mumble about how I am a horrible best friend and how I am a liar. I miss having people that would stick up for me.
I hear the loud clatter of feet running down the hallway. Time to go home. As I open the closet door, it bounces back and knocks me down onto the floor. “I’m so sor--” I look up, and my eyes meet sea blue eyes. I grab my stuff and head down the hall.
“Wait Cat!” I turn and see that he is chasing me. No one is around.
“Don’t call me that.” He gave me that nickname. It holds too many memories, and I can’t handle all of these emotions at once.
He smiles and says, “I, we always call you that. It’s your nickname.” He seemed hurt, almost. I give him a look that could kill. “Alright, Catherine. We need to talk about this someday. So I thought, what about today.” I look to the floor and turn around to leave.
“Catherine, you can’t run away from all of your problems. If you don’t talk to me about it today, it will happen another day.” I stop dead in my tracks. I remember whenever me and him were really close, and he would always give me that type of advice.
“There is nothing to talk about. You lied, I cried, you won, I lost. There, that’s all that needs to be said.” He was taken aback but quickly recovered.
“I didn’t win though. I lost one of my closest friends because of something so meaningless. Things aren’t the same anymore. It makes me upset whenever I think about how people treat you and what they say about you. The only reason any of this is happening is because of me, and I feel terrible.” Whenever he finishes his rant, he looks to me, and his eyes hold hope. Hope that I will forgive him. Hope that things will go back to the way that they used to be. I don’t say anything, and my eyes hold no emotions at all. He sighs. “You may not think that I am sorry, but I am. I hope you are willing to see that one day Catherine.”
The next day the school is buzzing about Olivia and Michael.
“Did you hear?” A freshman girl asks me.
I looked at her, and I am stunned that she is talking to me. “They broke up! Who would’ve thought?” She walks off to go gossip with a group of rambling teenage girls.
I go to the bathroom and find Olivia standing there, by herself, fixing her makeup. Her hair keeps getting into her face, so I give her the hair bow that is located on my arm. “Thanks,” she mumbles lowly. After a few minutes of silence, she blows out a deep breath.
“Look, I am sorry. I overreacted, and I feel like a horrible person. I blew the best friendship I had ever had, and I don’t even know how to fix it. I just want you to know that I miss you and all of the times that we shared together. We had our whole futures planned out together, and then I ruined everything. I am so sorry. Can you forgive me?” I look at her--confused at first-- and then I feel tears brimming my eyes.
“I wish things turned out different for us. We need to let the past stay in the past and move forward,” I tell her before continuing, “We both are two different people, and we need people that we can trust and will be there for. I need someone who is always gonna be there, and you aren’t that person. You left me at my worst without questioning your own judgement. You will always be in my memories, but I need to make my own without you in them.” She nods her head and sniffles.
I walked away from her. I walked away from yesterday and walking to tomorrow.