Bullied

          I walked swiftly down the hall, trying hard to avoid the hurtful names that came from various people.  I held back as many tears as I could, but some managed to slip.  I started running, I looked back over my shoulder and thought about how mean people were to me, how none of them realized what they did to me.  Right when I thought I was alone, when I thought I could let it out, I dropped my books and knelled my head against a locker and cried uncontrollably.

         Ever since I moved to this new school in New York I have been constantly picked on.  Since sixth grade I've suffered in silence.  I try hard to ignore the names they call me.  They all considered me an outcast.  At my school there were only jocks and geeks, I fit into neither group.  I considered joining soccer, or even softball, to make myself seem a bit more appealing, but I'm terrible at every sport.  My black hair with red ends was considered pathetic.  My tiny body was an embarrassment, I was called anorexic more time's than I can count.  I'm about as short as a six year old.  I told myself I was beautiful, and that if I said it enough, it might just be true.

         I kept my head down as I walked to my locker.  I grabbed for my bag and noticed a little piece of lined paper in the top grate of my locker.  I snatched it and opened it.  The note was written in blue ink, the writing almost illegible.  I made out the words "I think you're very weird, but in a great way."  I threw the note to the ground, thinking it was just someone messing with me.  I threw my books into my bag and walked down the hall and out of the school.

          I had only one friend, Ella.  She was the only person who I related to.  She wasn't picked on like I was, she was ignored.  I wish I could be ignored, like I was invisible.  Ella had straight black hair and beautiful blue eyes.  She wore trashy, dark clothes to school.  Her ride was a beat up old pick up truck.  She was the only one that comforted me.  My father loved me, but had no idea about any of this.  I wished my mother was still around, but I know she'll never come back.

          My mom died of Breast Cancer when I was eight. I still remember her, brushing my hair till it shined, tucking me in at night. I never expected to lose her, I never realized the possibility that I would one day lose her. I wish that day didn't have to come so early. I remember Daddy crying and crying, day and night.  I remember the emptiness I felt.  I remember the feeling that I was all alone, that no one had ever lost a loved one like I had.

       When I met Ella I was in sixth grade.  Before I came to school she was the laughing stock, and like me she had lost her mother.  Her mom died of a leukemia.  She told me that, before she met me, suicide was a major option.  Her wrists showed many cuts.  I told her my life story, and she told me hers.  I cried when I mentioned my mom.  She hugged me tight, and cried with me.  She is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

        "Anything new today, Zoey?"

        "Nope.  Same bullying as everyday, names and names and more names."

         "Do you wanna come over?  We can make cookies!"

        "I really can't.  My mom's death anniversary, I really need to be there for Dad."

         "Want me to bring some cookies over?"

        "Oh no it's okay."

        "My dad's lactose intolerant, there will be plenty."

       "No, no."

        "I'm going to bring some over."

        "Oh fine!"  Ella pulled into the long driveway that rested near my house, though it wasn't much of a driveway.  It was more of rocks in a neat fashion.  "Zoey,"

     "Yeah?"

    "Don't let anyone tear you down."

     "Easy for you to say Ella,"  I said, stepping out of her car.  "I've been in your position.  I'll be here at seven with a plate full of cookies and a movie, kay?"  I smiled, a genuine smile.  My holey jeans exposed my knobby knees to the chilly April air.   My foot found it's way to a mud puddle.  As I sank lower into it I watched Ella back out of the driveway, and down the road, finally leaving my view at the corner of Oak drive.

      I walked into my house and straight over to the computer.  My heart dropped when I saw that I had thirth new notifications on My Page.  I clicked one and was taken directly to my profile, where insults upon insults waited for me.  "You're such a retard, you little fag, dating Ella?"