Broken Glasses [Ongoing]

Chapter Six: Now Give Me Your Backpack

"And I'll keep praying I make it, Like someone worth saving, I still got some fight left inside me"

[Song: "Better Days" - Hedley]

RECAP:

It's the continuation of Operation Pretend We're Bullying Naomi In Order for All of Us Not Be Bullied by the Whole School and everything is going swell. (Maybe)

Trigger Warning: Depictions of verbal bullying.

~

Do you know what's the best part of high school?

No, seriously. Do you?

Because I have no idea.

As a senior in high school, I believe I had enough high school experiences to last a lifetime.

Shoved to the ground, I was forced to watch as everything in my backpack rained over me.

I was pummeled with insults about my body as I changed into my gym clothes.

Someone broke into my school locker and scattered its contents all over the hallway.

So just when I thought I had experienced everything, I was met with the results after a week since the launch of Operation Pretend We're Bullying Naomi In Order for All of Us Not Be Bullied by the Whole School, or Operation PWBNIOFAOUNBBBTWS for short.

Two jocks happened to be walking my way in the bustling hallway. With nowhere else to go, I closed my eyes and braced myself, even going so far as to hold up my hands in a fighting stance. I believed my timing is good because at the moment there should be an impact, that impact never happened. I hesitantly opened my eyes to see that they were gone. Turning around, the two of them continued walking while having a conversation about an upcoming history report.

Jocks caring about school? Something isn't right.

It was not until that moment, or well, lack of a moment did I realize that I haven't been bullied the entire day. No shoves past me. No stumbles from an outstretched foot. Not even an insult.

I arrived at my locker in a daze. When was the last time I wasn't bullied at school? Middle school? No, elementary? Is this how it's going to be from now on? I can walk down a hall without bracing myself, without holding my breath, without holding my tongue. Able to hold my head up high in confidence rather than staring at the ground to not lock eyes with a bully.

To think that's all I have to do. I mean, it's quite simple really. All I had to do was be bullied relentlessly into rock bottom of the school's social ladder, befriend three transfers not tainted by the popularity hierarchy, have one of them eccentric enough to befriend the damsel-in-distress into a friendship contract, then pretend they're bullies who want the pity-case exclusively as their personal bullying toy in order to actually be proteccted.

See? Simple.

I exhaled and smiled to myself. I should probably come up with some presents for those transfers and- I flinched in surprise when a hand slammed against the locker beside mine.

Ok, maybe it wasn't that simple.

"What do you want nameless basketball player number 13?" I asked dryly, noting the basketball jersey he was wearing.

"You think maybe not calling me that would make this-" motioning between the us "-not as bad for you?"

"Well the fact you're about to bully me won't change so I might as well get the last witty word in, or well, first and last."