Song: Ain't It Fun by Paramore
Chelsea
I sat down at an empty lunch table far away from everyone. I had requested to be in the junior and senior lunch so I could avoid my classmates. Lunch was prime time for the other kids to bully me and I really wanted to avoid that this year. I opened my bag and pulled out my sandwich and my book. I opened up to the page where I had left off and took a bite of my sandwich. The peanut butter oozed into my mouth. I almost missed my crappy peanut butter sandwiches all summer.
I saw a figure sit across from and groaned when I saw a familiar Misfits t-shirt. I looked up from my book and sighed. "What do you want now?" I questioned. I really did not want to put up with his shit. I only knew him for a few hours and I was already starting to hate him.
"You looked lonely so I thought I'd join you," he explained with a shrug. He pulled out his own lunch, which ended up being a peanut butter sandwich, too. I stared back down at my book determined not to let him ruin my lunch.
"Wait, aren't you a sophomore? Shouldn't you have lunch at the other time?" he asked confused. I let out another sigh. He obviously was not going to let me read in peace. I shut my book with a loud clap and shoved it in my bag.
"I asked for this lunch period," I replied with a huff. If he asked why, I might scream. I sure as hell didn't want to explain to him how I hated everyone.
"Why? Don't you want to be with your friends?" he questioned. I held back my scream, which was a challenge. This guy might just be the biggest wanker I've ever met.
"My friends that don't exist?" I asked in mumble as I played with my food. I hated admitting that I had no friends. Well, rather, I used to have friends, but my best friend in elementary school had started hanging out with the popular kids in middle school. As a result, she had blown me off and became a bitch. After that, I refused to make new friends because I didn't want to be abandoned again. That's also when I started to cut myself. Again, not the happiest topic.
"Oh," he mumbled back. He fiddled with his fingers obviously embarrassed that he had asked about my friends. He was silent for a long time.
"Don't you have any friends to sit with or something?" I asked with a film of rudeness over my voice. I really wanted to know why he kept bothering me after I had made it so clear I wanted nothing to do with him.
"I don't have any either," he replied under his breath. He seemed like he didn't want to admit it either.
We were quiet again. I don't think either of us knew what to say next. For some reason, I felt we had connected over be alone. Don't get me wrong, I still didn't like him. I still found him pretty annoying, but I felt like I had been right earlier about him being him not being ok.
"So, who are your teachers?" he questioned suddenly. He looked over at me, his expression completely changed. I took out my schedule and handed it to him. I chewed another bite of my sandwich as he examined it.
"You're taking vocal workshop? Me, too! And I think we have it at the same time," he exclaimed, pulling out his own schedule. I let out a groan and slid down in my seat. Not another class with Oliver! God, help me. "Yep, we have it together," he added a little too excited. He acted like we were best friends or something.
"Great," I muttered. I sighed. I really did not want to have to put up with Oliver for another class. One was enough.
"Oh, you have Ms. Hopkins for English. I had her last year. She's really mean," he told me. Great, the only class I liked I had a bad teacher. Maybe she'd like me since I read a lot.
He handed me back my schedule and I stuffed it back in my bag. "Oh, by the way, I like your shi-" he started, but was cut off by a tall muscular guy that I didn't know.
Oliver
I was just about to tell Chelsea I liked her shirt, when Chris came over. He towered over me as I looked down into my lap. He put his meaty hands on my shoulders and leaned down to put his head next to mine. I saw Chelsea look at him quizzically, but she didn't say anything.
"So, the emo's got a girlfriend," Chris announced to his posse. He always had at least two other members of the rugby team follow him at all times. I don't even think he knew my name. He just called me 'the emo' or something offensive liked 'dick' or 'fucker' or what ever his dumb brain could come up with, which wasn't much since I knew for a fact that he had failed English twice.
"What's her name?" he asked loudly in my ear. I cringed at the loud sound, but I didn't answer. I just continued to stare down at my lap. I refused to talk to Chris or any of his friends. When I used to talk back to him, him and his friends would just use what I said against me, so I decided not to talk to them.
"What's her name?" he asked, getting louder this time. I still didn't answer. Chris picked on me almost every day and had since he moved here in eighth grade. For some reason he hated me and refused to leave me alone. He's a big reason that I had started self-harming. The things he said just made me feel so terrible about myself and one day I decided I couldn't take it anymore. By no means, though, was I going to kill myself and let him win. No way.
"What's her bloody fucking name, dick?" he yelled at the top of his lungs. My eardrum felt like it might explode. I saw Chelsea flinch across the table from me. I just wished he would leave. I hated him more than I had ever hated anyone and that was saying a lot since I was picked on a lot because of my appearance.
"Chelsea. I'm Chelsea," Chelsea interjected. She looked over at him and gave him a forced smile. Something told me that she got picked on, too. Just the way she said it, I could tell she knew how much pain this guy brought me. He let go of my shoulders and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding in.
"Do you even talk?" he asked me sarcastically. He shoved me in the back making my chest collide with the table and left. I suddenly felt tears come to my eyes. I hated that guy so much. I usually didn't let what he said or did get to me, but something felt different this time. With Chelsea being there, I just felt pathetic. I had my reasons for not fighting back, but she didn't know that. I thought she was finally warming up to me, too.
"Hey, you shouldn't let them walk over you like that," she told me when they were out of earshot. The expression on her face told me she actually cared. Something about the way she looked at me had concern written all over it. She probably just felt bad for me.
I didn't respond. I just stood up, grabbed my bag, and headed for the cafeteria exit. I walked down the hallway on my way to the bathroom when suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around to see Chelsea's small figure in front of me.
"Oliver, it's ok. Those guys are jerks. You shouldn't let them bother you," she soothed. She put her hand on my arm. It was like something in her had changed. Less than twenty minutes ago, she hated me, and now she was comforting me.
"You wouldn't understand," I mumbled. I moved over to the wall and slid down to the floor. She quickly sat down next to me. I felt a single tear escape my eyes. Oh, great. Now I was crying in front of her.
"You wanna tell me about it?" she questioned softly. I let out a sigh and roughly wiped at my eyes.
And that's how Chelsea found out all about my problems. I had never told anyone about how Chris picked on me, but something told me she understood. I had a feeling she had went through the same thing. Maybe that was why she didn't want to have lunch with her grade. I don't know, but something was different about her.