WANTED: Love of my Life

16. Without a Scarebully

It didn't take long for the news to spread at school: that freaky punk-kid Jen was down with the flu.

I got the distinct impression that this made everybody very sad – they would have preferred it to be malaria or cholera. When I saw people sniggering and laughing about Jen in a way they never would have done if she'd been around to listen – probably because she'd punched them – it made me really, really mad. It made me want to punch people. And, oh yeah, the fact that my heart was broken also contributed to that inclination.

“I'm so glad that freak isn't around anymore,” I heard Linda Thomson whisper, just as I went past her in the cafeteria. “I've got no idea why they let her in here in the first place! The way she dresses – if you can call those rags clothes... this is a catholic school, after all. Maybe we'll get lucky and they say her place was taken while she was sick when she tries to come back.”

Linda Thomson was a tall girl with long, shiny blond hair that hung down to her waist. If we'd had a Cheer-leading team at Salesian, she'd been on it. If they'd known each other, she'd probably been best friends with Cathy. That says just about everything, doesn't it?

“Yeah,” her friend Helen said. “Being freakless feels so much better...”

“Freakless? I don't know about that...”

She pointed at me. I stood with my back to them, so I couldn't see, but I just felt it, she pointed at me. And I snapped.

“Yeah!” I shouted, whirling around. “After all, you're still here!”

Sandra, who was walking beside me, stopped in her tracks and stared at me with the wide, frightened eyes of a sweet little bunny.

Linda turned. She and her cronies hadn't bothered me for years. Not since I and Jen had become friends. Nobody bothered anybody who was friends with Jen. Not unless they wanted their jaw dislocated, that is.

“Excuse me,” she said, managing to make her voice at the same time sweet as honey and sour as vinegar. “Were you talking to me?”

“Yeah! And you're going to take back what you just said! Right now!”

“And what was that?” She tapped a finger against her lovely long hair. “I can't quite remember.”

“You insulted a friend of mine. You called her a freak.”

“I? I would never insult your friends!” She looked shocked. Then, a grin crept over her face. “Although I do seem to remember to have insulted your guard dog. But surely, you don't mind that, do you?”

Striding up to her, I grabbed her by the collar.

“You apologize,” I hissed. “Right know!”

“Ange,” Sandra whispered behind me. “Don't you think it would be better to... I mean better not to... em...”

I hesitated. Not that I didn't like the idea of teaching Linda some manners. But involve Sandra? She was terrified of fighting. Actually, she was even terrified of watching people fight or thinking of watching people fight. Or thinking of people who were thinking of fighting, for that matter. And she was my friend.

“What's the matter?” Linda pushed me back. She was a lot bigger than me. I stumbled backwards and nearly crashed onto a table. “Chicken, when your guard dog isn't around? I'm not surprised. At least, she's a bulldog, if an ugly one. You're just a pekinese!”

Have I mentioned before that I really don't like people making jokes about my size? Combine that with my loyalty to Jen and the fact that life generally sucked for me, and the solution to my problems seemed obvious. I jumped her.