Life in Junior High

A Bad Day at School

Saturday steppin' into the club
The music makes me wanna tell the DJ Turn It Up
I feel the energy all around
And my body can't stop moving to the sound

But I can tell that you're watching me
And you're probably gonna write what you didn't see
Well I just need a little space to breathe
Can you please respect my privacy

Sitting at her desk in her sixth period Spanish class, twelve-year-old Donna Jo Tanner (who liked being called "D.J." for short) was feeling very mixed-up — both angry and confused that afternoon at Van Atta Junior High. The reason why was the bully Colleen and her gang of girls; it was like they were the rulers of the school or something.

If only I could think of a good word I could call them in Spanish. (As I well know, the word "puta" obviously won't work because it definitely does mean a not-so-nice name for a girl when translated to English.) Maybe the word "bruja" could work instead.

It had been a very bad day for D.J. right from the start. As she had walked down the halls to her first class, Colleen and her cronies were standing there off to the side, and they looked her up and down. D.J. stopped and turned to face them just as Colleen stepped up to her.

"Hello, scrub," she hissed, her tone all snobby.

"What do you want?" D.J. replied as she did her best to keep herself from getting angry.

"For starters," Colleen remarked in the same snobby tone, "look at how you're dressed."

D.J. looked down at herself; her outfit consisted of a black T-shirt, blue jeans and white shoes. "So?"

"So, you look so scruffy and uncool. And your hair looks like something chewed on it," Colleen sneered. Then she laughed along with her gang as they pointed at D.J., who felt the tears start to well up in her eyes. Angrily, she brushed them away and continued off to her class.

D.J. shook her head, still hearing Colleen's insults as they kept repeating in her brain.

(Bridge:)
Why can't you just let me
Do the things I wanna do
I just wanna be me
I don't understand why
Would you wanna bring me down
I'm only having fun
I'm gonna live my life
(but not the way you want me to)

She hated it. The rumors. The pointing fingers. She recalled walking to her previous classes, while the bullies would point at her and laugh. And they would whisper things — and call her mean names such as "freak" or "copycat" (although D.J. couldn't help thinking they possibly mistook her for her best friend Kimmy Gibbler with the latter insult, since it was Kimmy who usually copied off of D.J. when it came to schoolwork and not the other way around), while other times they called her "teacher's pet" or even "flub girl" (although last time she checked, the latter was kind of brand-new, insult-wise).

And for D.J., that hurt; it was worse than being pelted with stones or being punched or slapped in the face so many times. By the time lunch time had rolled around, D.J. had to sit by herself. Whenever she'd walk up to a table, someone from that table would get up and stand in front of her, and she was forced to move on. The third attempt she came to a table where a football player was sitting. He placed his foot where she was going to sit and glared up at her.

"Sit somewhere else, Blondie!" he told her angrily as he kept his football on his other side next to him, while people began applauding.

D.J. walked off, wondering if she would ever be able find someplace to sit so she could eat her lunch. She tried to act like it didn't bother her, but deep down, it really did. That insult from the football player really hurt. Why did it seem like these people singled her out so they could push her around? She didn't do anything wrong.