As soon as I heard the lunch bell, my stomach growled and I dashed out of the classroom to the cafeteria. What can I say, I'm a hungry girl. When I entered the cafeteria I noticed just a handful of people either sitting alone or in groups. In the far corner of the cafeteria, where nobody even looks, sat Dean Gray. The schools problem kid. He seemed into the book in front of him. He seemed into the book in front of him just as a nerdy kid would. Like me. Hold up. He reads books? His eyebrows were furrowed and he had a determined expression on his face. I'd know that look anywhere...he was interested in the book. Dean Gray had a passion for books.
It was either sitting there, or in the eye of public where I would most likely get picked on. So I took a deep breath and descended towards Dean, bracing myself for what lies ahead. As I neared the table, my mind was screaming at me to turn around, that this was a bad idea. But when do I ever come up with good ones? I felt my heart beat quicken and my head mixed with thoughts along the line of 'Every decision you make is a bad one.' 'Turn around now.' 'What's wrong with you?' With every step I took if it was even possible, my heart thumped even faster. The palm of my hands were sweating and I had a sudden urge to turn around and run away. But it was too late, I was already standing at the edge of the table.
I stood there unsure of what to do. Finally deciding to suck up my fear, I sat down opposite him and picked at my food looking up at him every now and then. He must've been way into that book if he didn't notice me sitting down. He looked up from his book and held a look of shock when I said hi. But his shocked state was soon replaced with annoyance. "Uhm, what's your name again?" he said annoyed. "C-Claire." I stammered. "Right. Blaire, if you would kindly get up and go." he said, once again annoyed.
That ignited a flame in me that unleashed my inner serial killer. I get angry easily, that's one thing you should know about me. "Excuse me? I'll sit where I want to! And if anyone leaves, it'll be you." I snapped at him. "Whatever." he grumbled.
We stayed silent for the rest of the time being, enjoying our lunch. Well I didn't enjoy mine, but he looked pretty hungry from the way he was stuffing his face with food. I mean I do that too but...he's worse.
Lunch was over and I was roaming the hallways on my way to study hall when I heard a voice loud enough for everyone around to hear. "Hey stickwoman!" Zach shouted. I turned the other way and ignored him. "Oops, sorry for insulting you." he apologized, obviously not genuinely. And here comes something worse than the first comment. "I was meant to say stickman." he smirked.
Seriously? Even a two year old baby can come up with something better than that. But it did hurt a bit. Okay, a lot.
A few snickers were heard here and there. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment and whatever bit of ego I had left also flushed down the drain. I felt my eyes start to water and started chanting to myself in my head. 'Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry!' No, I will not cry. I won't let what they say get to me. They're not worth my tears.
I went to the nearest bathroom and stood in front of the mirror behind the sink. Why me? Couldn't there be someone else they could pick on? There is so many other people in the school, yet they pick on me. I know it sounds selfish, but you'd understand if you were in my position. I rinsed my face with cold water to clear my thoughts and entered one of the stalls. I sat against the door keeping my knees against my chest feeling a bit down. It reminded me of my previous years. That was horrible. Everywhere I went people would always do something to ruin my day until it led to something worse. Well that's for another day, so rather not.
Drifting off into my own world, I stared at the plain white tiled wall above the toilet. Some people just don't know when to stop. Others will realize what they have done is wrong, but you always get that one person who continues and is completely oblivious to the other persons feelings. In this case it's Zachary, he's left permanent scars. Scars aren't just the scabs that are left behind after an injury. Words hurt too. I must've been thinking for quite some time, because only now I heard the sound of small quiet sobs.
