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Defect Pursuit

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It was the ghetto, people talked funny and the air smelled like smoke and burnt rubber. I transferred to a public school from a Catholic school. I was brand new and didn’t know anyone. Shy and scared I walked down the long hallway to my new classroom on the left corner. I stood in front of the dull wooden door, unable to move, as my fear swallowed me whole. It was fifth grade. This was a big thing for me, a new school, new grade, new people, I didn’t know what to expect.
When I first walked in to my class I immediately felt like everyone was watching me. I stumbled stupidly to the teacher with a pink paper in my hand, explaining I was new. I turn around and saw three girls; they all looked the same, huge, thick dark hair, cold brown eyes, and about 4 inches taller than me. They didn’t look like the friendly type that would smile and say “Hello”. Nope, they looked like they were going to kill me with one step, just by shaking the ground. As my luck would have it, they were in my “group”. I sat right next to them. From that day on they persisted to make my life hell. They would stare me down, making me feel stupid, as if I was doing something wrong or I was an alien from another planet. The thing I hated the most was when they would giggle, whisper, and stare at me, and giggle again. It made me nervous. I tried to make them like me by saying hi, or changing my appearance, but at the end of the day my plan would always fail. I soon lost my determination to keep persuading them.
I remember begging my dad to take me out of the school. I could tell he felt my pain, but we didn’t have money. He promised it would just be for this year. But I couldn’t make it the whole year. I took their abuse day after day. I tried not to mind the cruel jokes and tricks they would play on me constantly. I was getting irritated. They would steal my lunch card and change the lock on my locker. It was horrible. Thinking back, I became a very depress 10-year-old. I was tired all the time and didn’t care about anything. I wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. I was lost in my mind, and dead in reality.
It was a normal day of torture. I had a sub because the teacher was dealing with “family matters”. I politely ask to use the washroom, and from the corner of my eyes I could see the three girls whispering. Once in the washroom, I heard steps walking past the stall followed by evil giggles and familiar whispers. I wanted to stay in the stall and never come out. My heart raced and I started thinking of a plan to escape. I rush myself out of the stall, ignoring the sink and headed for the doors. I felt a pull on my hair and the sound like someone had just cut construction paper. I turned around quickly only to see a chunk of my hair dead on the floor. I was about to exploded. I never wanted to hurt someone so bad before in my life. I stared at the girl with the scissors in her hands and for once she looked terrified of me. I didn’t give her a chance to open her mouth before I smacked the scissors from her hands and cropped off her greasy bangs.
It probably wasn’t the best Idea. I completely forgot about the other two girls. In an instant, I was pushed against the wall. I screamed and tried to move my tiny body from their strong grip. Defeated, I watched my hair fall on my feet as they chopped away. Finally, someone heard my weak screams and call the security. The principle’s only suggestion was to transfer me because of the fear of me bothering the other students.
I probably shouldn’t have let my anger get the best of me. Now that I am older, I think back and regret not mentioning how I felt about those girls to my parents. They probably would have done something and would have been less shocked when they walked in to the principal’s office and saw me. But I was young and I if I ever had a chance to go back and change a few things, I wouldn’t dare. The experience made me stronger and smarter.





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