Bully(44)

“You tell me. He’s a prick. You know it, and I know it.” What the hell was I doing? “But what you don’t realize is that he using you. He’s using you to get under my skin. He cares about you as much as Liam did when he cheated.”

Shit! Too far.

I was done for. The look on her face punctured my chest. I’d hurt her, and I hoped she would huff and puff and eventually see reason. But the look in her eyes left me with only doubt.

After a few moments’ hesitation, she started packing up her things and grabbing her tray. “You know, Jared asked me to sit with him today, and right now I want his company a lot more than I do yours.” She spat out her words before leaving. And I let her leave, because I understood her disappointment. Right now, I didn’t even like myself.

***

As much as I tried to take part in a conversation when Ben returned, my mind was too focused on rewriting the argument with K.C. My dad always told me that I can say what I need to say as long as I say it nicely.

And fuck me for snarling out my words like a five year old.

I could’ve handled it so much better. You know what they say about best laid plans? My emotions got away from me, and she probably went to cry on Jared’s shoulder. I’ll bet he was lapping this up.

As I pushed through AP English and Government, I was already yawning with exhaustion and was in no way energized for practice or the dinner out that my grandmother had planned.

“Sit down everyone, please!” Mrs. Penley shouted over the clatter of moving desks and laughter. We had just finished our discussion on the assigned chapters in Catcher in the Rye and were moving our desks back to normal position. The class was energized about the story. Half of them, I think, were thankful that it wasn’t a farming story like they thought, and everyone liked the idea of the rebellious teenager who smoked too many cigarettes.

The discussion had sucked for me. We’d been forced to move our desks into a circle, so that we could make eye contact with anyone that spoke. Jared kept flashing me smirks, no doubt fully informed of his progress on Operation Kill Tate and K.C.

The silvery feeling coursing down my arms and legs made me want to scream until the force of my upset made him magically disappear.

I wouldn’t care if you were alive or dead.

I hated admitting to myself that I did care whether he was alive or dead. I’d been stung every day he didn’t want me near him.

But that baggage that you aren’t letting out is weakening you. Grandma was right. I was in no better position now than I was before I decided to fight back.

“Now, class,” Mrs. Penley instructed from the front of the classroom. “Before we copy down assignments for homework, I want to touch base about your monologues. Remember, these are due in two weeks. I’ll have a sign-up sheet outside the door, and you can pick your day. Your monologue can be from the list I gave you or you can choose another one with my approval. Now, I’m not looking for Oscar-worthy performances,” she reassured, “so don’t get scared. This isn’t theater after all. Just perform the monologue and turn in the essay using the rubric I gave you explaining how that monologue reinforces the theme of the book or film.” Mrs. Penley drifted off as people started to get out notebooks and copy down the assignment from the board.

Acting like you don’t care is not letting it go.

Isn’t it about time you fought back?

I want your heart to be free.

Weariness wadded my heart. I turned around to look at Jared. His eyes lifted from his notebook, and his eyes sharpened on me.

I wanted to walk down the hall and know there was no pain around the next corner. I wanted him to stop. And yes, I admitted, I wanted to know him again.

But that baggage that you aren’t letting out is weakening you.

Before I could stop myself, I turned back around and thrust my hand in the air. Tightness knotted my stomach as I felt like I’d stepped into someone else’s dream. “Mrs. Penley?”

“Yes, Tate?” Mrs. Penley was standing at her desk, writing something on a post-it.

“We have five minutes left of class. May I perform my monologue now?” I sensed eyes and ears shifting my way, the whole class focusing its attention on me.

“Um, well, I wasn’t expecting to grade anything yet? Do you have your essay ready?” Mrs. Penley stuck the pen in her hand into her tight bun.

“No, I’ll have that by the due date, but I would really love to perform it now. Please.”

I watched the wheels turn in her head as she probably worried if I was prepared, but I flashed my pleading eyes on her to hopefully make her see that I wanted to get this over with.

“Okay,” she exhaled, “if you’re sure you’re ready.” She motioned for me to come up front, while she moved aside to lean against the wall.