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Speechless(83)

By:Hannah Harrington


                “What’s that?” Lowell cocks his head to one side, gaze sliding                     down to the whiteboard tucked under my arm, and before I can jerk back, he                     reaches out and snatches it from me. “Hey, Derek, catch.”

                He throws it over my head to Derek. I lunge for it, but Derek                     jumps back, holding it out of reach and laughing at my attempt.

                “Oh, what do we have here?” Derek says. He snaps the marker                     from its holder and scribbles on the surface. When he flashes the board for me                     to see, I’m met with the ugly words STUPID WHORE,                     made even uglier by his harsh scrawl. The same scrawl I’ve seen on my locker. “I                     think you should wear this around your neck or something. Like, as a sign. Give                     us all some fair warning.”

                I know I can’t force him to give it back.

                I know I can’t show a reaction in front of them, because that                     will only egg them on.

                I do the only thing I can think of. The one thing I know will                     piss them off the most.

                I smile.

                They both stare at me like I’ve been sent from some alien                     planet, which is how I know I’ve thrown them for a loop. It’s the smallest of                     victories, but still a victory, nonetheless. Derek tosses the whiteboard                     carelessly, sending it skittering across the sidewalk.

                “Whoops,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

                Lowell gives one last glare and mumbles, “Fucking freak.”

                He hocks some spit at me. Thankfully his aim is terrible, and                     the spit only makes contact with the toe of my shoe. They both laugh like it’s                     the most hilarious thing ever and head into the building. Assholes.

                I gather the whiteboard off the pavement and rub the spit off                     my shoe in some snow, my body shaking from a combination of intense relief and                     the cold air. Angry tears build behind my eyes, but I blink them back, trying to                     shake the feeling off. But I can’t. This vow was supposed to be about making                     things less complicated, to stop myself from doing something stupid, to show                     everyone how much I don’t need them. It was about me deciding that if I can’t                     have their forgiveness or their respect, I won’t give them anything. All it’s                     done is made me an easy target.