Just One

Standing Up

I wake up with a sick feeling in my stomach. I don't want to get up, eat and go to school, except that my parents want me to get a good education. I haven't told them about what's happening. I don't want to disappoint them. I feel like this every morning now. In fact, these days, I only feel a void of nothing when I'm not in pain. As I get ready for school, all my actions are robotic. As I board the bus, I ignore the chattering loud voices, happy to see each other again, looking forward to school.

My first class is chemistry. I used to always get this uncontainable joy towards going to chem. Now, every single minute is one step closer to hell. That's all I can think about while the teacher talks. These days, I no longer listen.

I get the test back that we completed last week. It's a D. The lowest grade I've ever gotten. Last year, I only got A or above. Now... a D. Unbelievable. I can't show this to my parents. And to think that I could ever get into university.

The bell rings for recess. Hell has come. Better eat my food. Not that I'm hungry.

They come up to me, just as they always do, while I get my chips out of my locker. "Look at her," the girl taps me on the shoulder. "Just as stupid as always."

"Shut up," I mutter. People walk past, just as they always do, looking at what's happening. My eyes go to the floor. I wish they would just shut up, even though they are right. I am stupid.

"She's very weak, too," the boy takes my glasses off and holds them up high, too high for me to reach. My head starts to hurt and the world around me without my glasses is painful. Everything's a blur.

I try to get them, but the boy keeps moving his hand. "Please, give them back. I need them."

The bell rings. The boy throws them somewhere on the ground, and he and the girl leave. I fumble around to get them and eventually find them after about 10 minutes. No one helps me. When they are back on, they are scratched, but at least I know what's around me now.

I put my mostly uneaten chips back into my locker and get my folder out for a double period of English.

"Why are you 15 minutes late?" My English teacher asks.

"Sorry," I lower my head and sit at the back. My stomach growls really loudly. I avoid looking at anyone, imagining that they are all laughing at how pathetic I am. I wish I could just melt away and disappear, but I am stuck here, with my cheeks turning red. I have to do this. For my parents' sakes, I have to be here, learning, doing well. Even though it's impossible for me to learn or do well these days.

I tune out, looking at the clock the whole time during English. The teacher asks me what's so important about the clock and my head goes back to the text we're reading for ten minutes, avoiding anywhere but the book. It keeps going until the lunch bell rings.

I slowly walk out of the room after everyone else has left. I turn towards the English teacher and for a moment, I think I notice a concerned expression. Just for a moment before she leaves.

The walk to my locker at the start of lunch is always the longest part about every day. Every little noise makes me jump. They come up, as is routine. I just sit against my locker, crying. There's no way of stopping this. I just need to put up with it until I finish school for good, at which point I will be doing something meaningless with my life, like just being a check out girl.

"Hey, what are you guys saying to her that's making her cry?" I hear a voice, a guy's voice, high pitched. Must be a year of two below us year 12s. "And those glasses you're holding up high, I presume they're not either of your glasses."

Through the haze, a tall shape is behind those two. He reaches with ease for where I think my glasses are. He bends down and slides them back onto my face. Once I can see clearly again, I notice he has a gentle smile. He stands up again, to look sternly at the other two.

"Get lost. This is none of your business."

"If it was none of my business, she wouldn't have been crying and trapped by you two," he raises an eyebrow. "If no one decided that this was their business, this would have continued. But it has to end, and I am telling you, leave her alone. You don't want to deal with my gang of... well, just me actually. But I am warning you, I will tell a teacher what I saw happening if you don't leave her alone and you don't want that, do you?" They're both silent. He puts strength behind his voice. "Then leave her alone."

They go away. He extends his hand, helping me up. "I would have helped sooner because I assume it's been going on for a while, but I haven't passed by here in ages."

I wipe my eyes. "That's fine. Thank you, uh..."

"Clint. My name is Clint," he clears his throat. "What about your name?"

"Sabira."

We talk through lunch. For the first time in a long time, I enjoy my afternoon classes and I go home with a big smile on my face.