Broken

| 1 | The Meeting

"This week I am giving you this class period to work on an assignment. The project will be over a famous person that you look up to. You will be presenting this to the class at the end of this month after I've reviewed them all to make sure they're school appropriate."

School appropriate. It's a shame that teachers even have to check nowadays, but that's not what's concerning me. Presenting. I avoid these people at all costs because of how they all are. Judgmental assholes. I've spent all of this time keeping myself hidden. Why does this teacher have to ruin this for me?

This. This right here is why I hate school. If someone has social anxiety, me for example, we are forced to stand in front of our piers who we, being me, hate.

"You have this hour to start working on ideas for your project." she says and walks over to her desk. She won't be bothering us for the rest of the hour.

I pull out my notepad and pretend to get to work, when in reality, I'm worried about that stupid presentation. I can't think straight with that on my mind.

I look around my classroom, and I see all of these popular kids who think they're all that. I am no where near as pretty as them. They'll probably make fun of my extra body fat. God, compared to them I have so much. They all don't eat. The thought makes me sick, and I sink into the chair, keeping my eyes glued to the floor.

I see a pair of Nikes and girly light pink Vans take a stop right in front of my desk, and I lift my head to see the one and only Noah Thomas and his bratty little girlfriend, Quinn. These two make me want to vomit. They've been teasing me since middle school, and the tormenting has never stopped. You'd think they'd be over it by now, but no, they can't get enough pleasure out of watching me suffer.

"Babe, look at our favorite little mute today. I saw your face go pale when the teacher said presentations little Grace... or should I say big Grace." Noah says to me and my stomach drops so far down that I swear it touches my feet. They've made fun of me for numerous other things, but never my weight. My weight was never a problem. I'm not even big, only compared to Quinn who has no boobs, no butt, and a stick thin figure.

I feel my eyes start to well up with tears, but I choke them down. Not in front of them. Not in front of them. It's just one insult, I can take a hit.

"And what about her sleeves? It's 90 degrees outside and you're wearing a fricken jacket. What are you?" she says to me, loudly. Great. We've attracted the attention of some others in the class. This is just what I need today.

"Would it kill you to wear a t-shirt?" she says while she shakes her head at me just like a mother  reprimanding her own child. I can see the amusement in her eyes. Almost like a cat playing with a mouse. She has all the power and she knows it.

"What if she's hiding some kind of weird lizard skin?" he asks. I wish they'd just drop this. Keeping the scars hidden is hard enough without people trying to expose it.

She steps closer to me, and all in one movement, she pushes down my sleeve revealing my scars. I try so hard to cover them before anyone sees, but it's too late. They're exposed. The dark, the light. All out for everyone's eyes to see.

"What an attention whore." she says with a loud laughter, and the whole class looks at me. The teacher is so oblivious to the situation as she stares at her computer, but that doesn't stop all of these eyes. All of these judgmental eyes looking at me. All looking at me with clear amusement. I feel my cheeks start to burn with embarrassment, and the pain in my chest only grows.