Love Me When I'm Unlovable

Chapter 18: Rita

God, I hate my life. Why the heck do I have to deal with all of this crap? LeAnna has this perfect family, and I don't even have a family. What's up with that?

It's not fricking fair.

Plus, it's Wednesday. They gave me two days to recover from surgery, and now guess what? Back at school. Back at school after two days to recover from a broken arm, a damaged joint in my jaw, and my sister totally backstabbing me. Granted, they don't know about that last part, but still. I think I deserve more than two days, but whatever.

Hannah didn't give me a second thought. She glanced at me, looked concerned for a hot second, but didn't do anything. She didn't try to stop him, she didn't even stay with me. Some sister.

It's Wednesday morning. I'm not sitting at the back of the bus. LeAnna and Liora insisted that I wasn't. So now I'm sitting next to Liora, with LeAnna and Isabelle in the seat next to us.

I got the inside seat because of my arm, thank God. The inside seat means I don't have to talk to near as many people.

"Rita, this is Kaylie," Liora introduces.

I look up at the girl waving from the seat behind LeAnna. She looks less like a sophomore and more like a middle schooler. She has thin, stringy blonde hair and a mouth full of braces.

"She's awesome," LeAnna adds, smiling. Her eyes are telling me to engage.

"Cool," I say, sinking further down in my seat. I don't make eye contact.  I don't want to talk to her. I just want to be left alone.

The bus screeches to a halt, and, all at once, kids start rushing off. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. God, why can people just not bump my arm? It's not that hard. There's only so much pain medication can do. I wince as another kid shoves by.

My first class is AP World History. It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the kid who sits behind me, blowing spitballs in my hair and whispering about my body. That kid kind of ruins the experience.

But it's not as if the teachers would do anything. I've tried that before. Usually, they just tell me that 'boys will be boys' or that, if I just stop paying attention it'll stop. No, I'm definitely trying to be his little doll. It's fricking bull.

I make it to my first class, cradling my arm. I set my backpack down and pull out my history textbook.
Jeff, the boy who sits behind me, reaches forward and pokes my ribs.

I turn around and grab his wrist in a death grip. "Never touch me."

He smirks. "Have a little fun, girlie pop."

"Call me that again, and I'll pop you like a pimple," I threaten.

"I'd love for you to pop me," he says, smiling gap-toothed at me.

Disgusting. I squeeze his wrist harder, and slowly rotate it left until he's halfway out of his seat.

"Miss Rita!" Miss Callahan, my AP history teacher calls. "Let go of Mr. Jeff at once! That is not appropriate!"

Jeff gives me a triumphant look.

What he was doing to me wasn't appropriate either. Anyone see that? Didn't think so.

"He's not allowed to touch me," I mutter, sitting back in my seat.

"What was that?" Miss Callahan looks at me and cups a hand to her ear.

"He's not allowed to touch me," I say louder, my chin lifting in defiance.

"From what I saw, you were the one touching him," Miss Callahan says.