One of the Bullied | ✔

Chapter 8 - Camping is... Fun?

I don't do any of the homework over the weekend, which will probably get me into trouble with Seth, Luke and Caleb, but I've decided not to care anymore.

Apart from that, I learnt the first two movements of Moonlight Sonata on the piano, and I'm working on the third. Also, I learned a couple more pages of the Liszt piece. It's so bloody hard.

So Monday morning, by the time I walk in I'm almost shaking. It's a bit scary, and I'm starting to regret not doing any of the work over the weekend. Maybe I should have just done it.

But that makes me weak. And I want to be strong through this. I keep my head down on the way to my locker, hoping to be noticed as little as possible. Luke is leaning against it, looking at something on his phone.

I cough softly and he looks up, his mouth curving into a cruel grin. Behind my back my fingers cross, almost involuntarily.

"Give me my books." Luke snaps. I try not to pale but it's barely something I can control.

"I didn't do the work." I say, keeping my chin up.

"You - you fucking whore." He spits. I almost smile, knowing the amount of times he gets into trouble for not doing homework. He's been suspended for it before. I hope he gets into a lot of trouble today. He's stupid and he deserves it. "You're so fucking stupid, good for nothing."

He looks like he's going to say something else but he doesn't, simply storming off angrily. There's a few whistles and a lot of people direct me angry or disgusted looks.

¬

At the end of the day, to my surprise and horror, Luke, Seth, Caleb and a few of their followers are waiting, leaning against my locker. I shudder to myself in disgust.

I raise an eyebrow, standing in front of the locker. There's a shout and someone lunges for me, his arms wrapping around my waist. I do the obvious.

I scream loudly, try to push him away, but it feels like his body is made of steel. Punching and kicking does me no good. I'm pinned back by Caleb and one of his companions, and Luke looks down at me.

"You better shut the fuck up, freak."

Is this some kind of new nickname or something? Freak? I have to give it to them, at least Zerd was original and required a couple of seconds of thought.

Still, I shut my mouth. I'm dragged down the corridor by these assholes before I'm shoved in a cupboard. I give it one last try, hitting the guy holding me weakly in the gut. He's not moved at all, and the doors slam in front of me.

Suddenly I feel like a little child, locked in because I've done something bad. Reaching out, I feel along the rugged edges of the air vents. At least I'll be able to breathe.

Footsteps retreat, and I continue to feel along the door, hoping maybe I can get out. There is a bit of light, and I can see the closet is completely empty. There's nothing at all, and it's not dirty, just a bit dusty from not ever being used.

Heavy footsteps come back and I'm praying it's the janitor or such likes who will let me out. I can hear someone breathing outside, and nothing happens for a few seconds. Then a note slips through the vent. I reach up for it immediately, so I don't get a chance to figure out, from the footsteps retreating, whether it was a boy or girl.

Your parents think you're at a sleepover. They won't worry about you tonight, but I can only save you so many times. I'm sorry I can't get you out of here. - Rita

It's been typed. It's been fucking typed. So I can't tell, by the handwriting, who it was. Great. Who is this?

Is this a prank, or is it a kind message? I can't even tell the difference anymore. Anything for me has the potential of being a horrible prank instead of something actually kindly. But it can't be something kindly.