Chapter Three:

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When I made it to the high school around 7:32 Monday morning, I wasn't entirely taken by surprise when I went to my locker and found pieces of paper taped all over the metal door. Sighing, fighting a weighted lump in my stomach, I stopped in front of my locker and reached up for what felt like the hundredth time to rip the papers from my locker door.

            Usually, the papers said things like "Emo" or "Prude" (which actually wasn't such a bad thing) or "Slut", but today they said different things, things more hurtful like "He's doesn't like you" or "You dumb, blue-haired bitch" or "You should be dead instead of ­Drew."

            I swallowed tears as I shoved the papers in the trash can at the end of the bank of lockers. Why did they bring her into this, I thought to myself. Laughter erupted at the end of the hall as I threw away the last of the papers.

            It was Finny and her boyfriend, Grant, a senior, and his posse, a mix of three boys who knew nothing of personal hygiene or speaking for themselves. They probably even went to the bathroom with Grant. I closed my eyes and counted backward from fifty, waiting there in the center of the hallway until I drowned out their snide remarks and laughter and until my heart slowed to a reasonable speed.

            Ever so slowly, I made my way down the hall past them, trying to make it to my first period, the one period where the teacher will guard me from them.

            "Where's your boyfriend, fag?" Grant Henderson spat at me as I passed him and his posse. They all started to make cat-calls and rude, horrid noises, but I just held my head higher and walked into my first period, English, letting the door swing shut after me. Mr. Ginseng looked up from a novel he was reading and folded down the corner of the page, setting it on his desk.

            Without even a word, my uncle stood from his chair and walked over to me, this wreck of a girl standing in his doorway, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Before I could help it, I let out a torn sob and he wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my head, cooing words of calm and strength.

            "What did they say this time, Penny?" he asked, humming the theme song to Star Wars.

            I sucked in a shaky breath and another sob wracked my body. "They brought Drew into this," I croaked. Mr. Ginseng just shook his head and held me tighter.\

++++++++++++++++++++

First period went off without a hitch; no one asked me why I was crying or if I was okay. They'd learned to ignore it.

            Finny was in my first period English. She sat in the back of the room and glared into the back of my head, but as long as my uncle was the teacher, she wasn't going to say a word. I was seated in the front row, center desk, when something hit me in the shoulder. I turned to look behind me and was hit in the cheek with a small paper ball.

            I listening as it hit the floor with a small tap; I looked forward again.

            "I saw that Grant Henderson. Don't make me write you up again; that would be your sixth this week." I could hear Grant in the back of the room muttering to himself. With the smallest bit of satisfaction, I crossed my arms on my desk and let the tiniest smile creep onto my lips.

            "Thank you," I mouthed to my uncle, and he gave the tiniest nod. With that, he turned, started to write and lectured about Passive and Active Voice.

++++++++++++++++++++

Lunch came too soon.

            I was at my locker as the second bell for lunch sounded through the hallways when someone stopped next to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that it was Tate. He was wearing a pain black T-shirt and a light pair of jeans with his wrecked Converse.

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