Coals | TeenInk

Coals

December 28, 2013
By SoccerGirl11 SILVER, Leavenworth, Kansas
SoccerGirl11 SILVER, Leavenworth, Kansas
8 articles 8 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Pascal's Wager. It's too long to put here but if you don't know it, I highly recommend that you look it up.


You know in movies when the lead role is sad and then suddenly it's dark and rainy outside as if the atmosphere's mood depends strictly on that one person's feelings? Some people say they wish that happened to them, but not me. If the atmosphere revolved around my feelings there'd never be a day with sunshine. But I don't have to worry about that, cause that only happens to lead roles, and I'll never be a lead role, not even in my own life. At least, not if Brittney Smith has anything to do with it.

I used to like school. When I was little I would even say I loved it. But that was before Brittney Smith moved into town.

Leavinburg isn't that big of a town. In fact, it's tiny. Everyone knows everything about everyone. Which means if in fifth grade you didn't wear a bra cause your mom wouldn't buy you one yet, and a specific someone happened to see you changing in the locker room; six years later people will still be making fun of you for it.

I see Brittney down the hall but I'm not fast enough and the bathroom's too far away so i hunch my shoulders and get ready for the entourage of insults I know are coming, that will slaughter the little self-esteem I've managed to have today. Sure enough, three seconds later I hear Brittney call my name. The way she says it is so sweet and innocent it makes me sick.

I want to puke but I can't cause that would only give her another thing to tease me about. I turn around and she's already in front of me. I have my favorite shirt on today, the white one with the loose collar and flowy sleeves. Mom got it for me when she was in New York. Brittney's holding an open water bottle. She dumps it all over me and loudly announces, "Oops! I'm soooo clumsy!" as if she's just made the most unfortunate trip and "accidentally" splashed me. But she's laughing and everyone knows she didn't. "Well at least we can tell you're finally wearing a bra!"

Then everyone's laughing. And i want so badly for them to be laughing with me, but they're not. They're laughing at me. Every single one of them. Suddenly it's too much and I can't be there one more moment because I really am going to puke. I can already feel it burning my throat. So I run, and soon I'm out of the school and into the trees behind it. I stumble to a stop because my visions being blurred by the hot white tears. I puke and curl up into a ball trying to block out the world cause it's just too painful.

I have to go back otherwise Mom and Dad will know somethings wrong and freak out. I sneak my head into the door and thankfully the bell has already rang. I'm late and I've missed one class, but it's worth it to avoid Brittney's sneering face.

There's this poster on the way to my locker that's really bright and colorful. In big bold letters it proclaims 'Let Down Your Walls!'. It talks all about how if everyone stopped pretending to be someone else and were just themselves, the world would be so much better of a place. Sometimes I wonder if it's really true. And if so, why doesn't anybody try it? But then I remember why, because they're always telling you to be yourself, and when you finally do, they judge you for it. So really, that poster's just a big fat lie.

That night after everyone's asleep, I slip outside and lite a small fire in our firepit. I look at the shirt in my hand. The silky fabric glows in the soft moonlight. This wad of material used to be my favorite shirt. Now just looking at it, all I can think is of every single word Brittney Smith has ever said to me. I think of how awful and mean and ugly each one made me feel. I throw the shirt onto the fire and watch as each little coal eats through the fabric. Just like me. Brittney's the coals and I'm just this small, insignificant scrap of cloth, each of her words burning through me until eventually I won't be anything but strings lost in the vastness of her heated hatred.


The author's comments:
Hatred is born from hatred and kindness is born from kindness. So think about what you say next time and decide whether you're spreading kindness or hatred.

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