Devil Incarnate (On Hiatus)

Chapter 5

Author's Note: 

I absolutely do not condone bullying, it is an absolutely abhorrent thing and if you or somebody you know is being bullied, please reach out to a teacher/parent/guardian/trusted adult. And always remember that being a bystander is just as bad as being a bully. 

 I'm back at school bright and early the next day. As my dad likes to say, "No rest for the Blessed." Or as I like to say, "My dad is a workaholic who overworks everybody around him to avoid dealing with my mom's passing." Of course, I don't ever say that out loud, but I sure do think it a lot. But before I have a chance to get to my locker, Connie Meagle and her syndicate of sycophants block my way. I look up at her, not even sure how to start this potentially painful conversation.

"Hey, Connie. What's up." I say barely above a whisper.

"Don't act like we don't know what you did!" shrieks one of the yellow shirt clad girls standing behind Connie.

"How can you attack somebody's poor defenseless grandmother when your own father takes the innocence away from little boys!" shrieks another one of the girls, this one wearing bright orange tank.

Did they plan to dress like highlighters on purpose? Before I have time to finish my thoughts, the final girl suddenly moves. I almost think that she is going to slap me so I flinch and shut my eyes but the sting never comes. I open my eyes to see Connie grinning down at me and the girl pointing down the hall at my locker. I walk around them and head to my locker with Connie and Co. behind me screeching like crows with laughter. Is there something on my back? What could possibly be so funny?

I see what they are laughing about once I approach my locker. There are dozens of flyers taped to the front of my locker that all have a photoshopped picture of my dad grabbing a little boy's butt with "Pedophile Pastor" in bold across the top. I try to rip them from my locker but there seems to be never-ending layers. I finally find the lock and put in the combo and pull open my locker. A wave of flyers fall out of my locker and onto the ground around me. Everybody in the hallway stops for a second and they all come toward me and they start grabbing the flyers from the ground. I ignore the growing chaos behind me and put my backpack in my locker, grab my psychology notebook, and kick some flyers out of the way so I can close my locker.

As I turn around to head to class, I glance over at the sea of awestricken faces looking down at the flyers all over the ground. I could have sworn that there were no more than 10 people in the hallway earlier, but that number had more than tripled in the time it took me to get my things from my locker. Panic starts welling up in my chest. My dad was yelling only yesterday about how he didn't want me to ruin his reputation and now all of these kids had seen these horrible flyers. Is this what it feels like to have a panic attack? I run as quickly as I can to the nearest bathroom and lock myself in a stall.

I try to catch my breath for a second and then I remember that weird thing that crazy Anne did to me yesterday. As I struggle to try to remember the words and figure out how to blow into my own face, my breathing starts to steady. Wow! Just thinking about her technique helped me stop panicking. Or maybe that wasn't even a panic attack because when I was in the hospital yesterday I felt like a rope was tied around my ribs and was slowly tightening, restricting my breathing and making my chest feel tight. Well, whatever that was I still need to get to class.

I leave the stall and look into the mirror, trying to ready myself for the chaos that lies on the other side of the bathroom door. I lower my head, hold tight onto my things, and book it out of the bathroom and towards my psychology class. Seeing Mrs. Larson talk passionately about my favorite subject might save the day for me. I leave the bathroom and dart straight for my psychology classroom. As I get further down the hall, the raucous sounds of laughter start to die down and there are fewer and fewer people in the halls. I start to climb the stairs, letting myself unclench for a second but I hear footsteps behind me. As I turn the corner to go up the next flight of steps, I see Connie and her companions are following me.

I quicken my pace, not sure why they are following me or what they will do when they catch up. They also speed up, knowing that they have been spotted. As I get to the top of the steps, I take off running, hoping to get a head start. When I take a glance over my shoulder, I can basically see up Connie's nose. How did she reach me so quickly? Just as she raises her hand to grab my hair, Mrs. Larson strolls out of her classroom.

"What is causing all this ruckus?" she huffs. She looks over at me, undoubtedly with a look of fear on my face, and over to the trifecta of terror standing behind me. She pauses for a second as she registers what is going on. "Marie, you better get to class or I'll mark you tardy and have to call your father. And as for you three, I appreciate you walking my student up here, but I would advise you to head to your own classes."

I look up at her, my guardian angel, and take a second to collect myself before I walk into the classroom. As I'm about to walk away, Connie whispers into my ear "You got lucky this time" and her and her flock of followers turn and leave with a harrumph.

I start towards the welcoming light of my psych classroom but I stop once I feel somebody's gaze on me. I turn and look up at Mrs. Larson's disappointed face.

"Marie, if you're getting bullied, you should have told someone. You have your father and dozens of teachers and administrators in this building that would help you without a second thought."

I look down at my feet, not sure of what to say. I want to tell her about what Connie did with the flyers but she'll probably find out on her own anyway and I don't want to be labeled a snitch on top of everything else that people are bound to be calling me.

Mrs. Larson reaches down and gives my hand a squeeze and says, "I just want you to know that you're not alone." and walks toward the classroom. She stops before she enters and turns to me to say, "I'm here for you but I'm disappointed that I had to find out this way."

Excuse my French, but that sure is a shitty way to start the day.

~