Bullied

I have always been disliked by my peers. Sure, no one is bold enough to walk up to me and express their dislike but it’s evident in their behaviours. The looks, the snickers or low tunes when I pass by. But they never say it to my face. Well, Olivia tries, she has always been the bold one. I don’t expect her to change but I can handle her. After all, it’s her fault we are no longer friends, if only she had kept it in her pants.

A tug on my shirt snaps me out of my musing, the reflection of my one and only best friend in the whole world appears on my car window and I turn around with a big smile. Her high-pitched scream has me plugging my fingers into my ears, she throws her arms around me in excitement and I return the hug with a slight eye roll, acting like I didn’t miss her. She jabs my sides with a scowl, I return the favour.

“Holla,” she says in her beautiful Spanish accent, switching into Spanish like I understand the language.

I wait for her to finish talking but the thing with Maria is this—she never stops talking. You have to cut her off so that’s exactly what I do. I throw an arm around her shoulders. “Maria. How was the party?”

Some boy from our school hosted a party last night to welcome everyone to the new semester and in Maria’s book, you never say no to a cute boy who asks nicely. In my book, you say no to every boy. High school isn’t for relationships, it’s that period of your life you are forced to endure so you do your best to get by. Stay unnoticed. She shakes her head and shrugs my hand off her shoulders, dragging me away from my car and into the direction of the door.

I hesitate at the front door, Maria takes a step forward and stops. “Tessa?” She turns to me, I shrug.

See, Maria is very pretty. With her waist length blond hair, honey eyes, smooth accent, banging body and beautiful heart, that cheerleader is the kind of person everyone wants to be friends with. And then, you have me. Cool Tessa. I mean, I am a sight for sore eyes, that’s what mum says. If I can try to wear something outside black T-shirts, skinny jeans and sneakers, I’ll look excellent. Sometimes, I think she’s disappointed at the fact her only daughter isn’t following her path of fashion. My mum is a fashionista.

“Theresa Mower!” Maria snaps her fingers in my face and my eyes flicker to her. I offer her a sheepish grin, widen my big, brown eyes into what I hope is a puppy-eyed look and she pinches my nose, baring her teeth at me when I try to protest. Placing her hands on her waist, she says, “This is a new session, we promise to try and socialise more, right? We have one more year to go, let’s make the best of it.”

I nod. By we, she means me alone because she’s a social butterfly and I am that friend who will rather spend her weekend binge-watching old movies. She tucks her hand into the crook of my elbow and pulls me to stand on the stairs with her. I am only two inches taller than she is but her heels already took care of the height difference. She pushes the door open, I close my eyes, take a deep breath and step in.

The corridors are quiet as we stroll in, I make sure to stay beside Maria as we head for our lockers. When I’m with her, people seldom glance my way, all attention is focused on her. I can always handle myself but it feels good to have her around me in the mornings since we don’t have any class together.