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Briggs. Shit. My insides quake and everything around me goes brighter. Sharper. It must be the adrenaline flooding my system. Fight or flight. I know better than to fight, since I’ll never win. There’s nowhere to run. Nobody will protect me.
I’ve barely processed what I heard when something hits the backpack over my shoulder and knocks it onto the floor. The already weak zipper bursts open and everything that used to be inside comes spilling out onto the floor.
“Can’t even afford a decent backpack.” One of Briggs’ stupid friends wheezes with laughter, like he just told the funniest joke ever. “Probably holds everything she owns, too.”
I can barely hear them over the laughter all around us. Because evidently, nobody here has anything better to do than laugh at somebody else’s misery. It’s not only books that went flying. My wallet, Chapstick, keys, scrunchies, sketch pads. All I can do is scramble around, hoping to grab the important things before somebody else does. I don’t know if I could handle fishing my keys out of a toilet.
At least Briggs and the rest of them walk away while I shove my things into the bag. My face is burning and my eyes sting with tears I can’t shed. They’re already laughing hard enough. I don’t think I could stand listening to them laughing at my tears, too.
“Fucking assholes.”
My head snaps up and my heart is in my throat when I meet the warm, friendly gaze of a girl I’ve never met. Her curly, strawberry blonde hair pulled into a ponytail that swings when she shakes her head, blue eyes narrowed like she’s ready to fight. Now I notice she’s not laughing like the rest of them.
Instead, she drops to one knee and starts grabbing books and my earbuds. “I thought I was the only person they screwed with,” she mutters angrily. “I guess they got bored and decided to, like, branch out or something.”
“You mean they do this to you, too?” It’s weird, meeting somebody who wants to have an actual conversation… even if it’s about getting bullied.
“All the time. Just because I exist, I guess.” She hands me a textbook, offering a weary smile as we stand. On the surface, there’s nothing special about her. Nothing that would make somebody single her out. “I’m Maya.”
“I’m Wren. Thank you for helping me.” After looking around one last time, I’m pretty sure we picked up everything. “And I was about to have my lunch…” Right now, I’m not hungry. At least they left my food alone instead of throwing it on the floor or spitting in it or something. I guess I have to be grateful for whatever I can.
“Me, too.” Now I notice the tray Maya must have sat down when she came over, sitting across from mine on the table. “Would you mind a little company? I’m tired of eating alone.”
“Please, if you think you can risk being seen sitting with me.” Now it’s possible to laugh about things. It’s amazing how just knowing there’s somebody here on my side makes me feel better. I can almost ignore the cruel assholes who finally finished laughing at me and went back to their lunches.
Maya has dimples that pop out when she grins. “I’ll take my chances. It’s not like things can get much worse.”
It’s actually kind of sad how much I want to ask why they make her life hell. What do they think she did to deserve it? But no, that’s not the kind of thing you say to the first person who’s been nice to you in forever. I’m not going to waste the chance of making a friend.
Turns out, she makes it easy. “Tucker decided to start making my life hell two years ago, and I guess he likes it enough that he never bothered to stop.” She sounds tired, like it’s weighing on her. I can’t imagine how it wouldn’t.
“What is wrong with those guys?” I don’t feel comfortable speaking in more than a whisper, since there’s no way to know who could overhear. Already, he has me trained. Damn him.
She lifts a shoulder while unwrapping a tuna sandwich. “No idea. They’re sick in the head, that much I know. They get off on it. It’s a game to them. Seeing how miserable they can make somebody. Probably because it makes them feel powerful. They can jerk their tiny pricks at night and remember making a girl cry.”
The way she says it makes me laugh. “I mean, the way all the girls look at them, you would think they have better things to do.” Briggs practically drops panties when he walks into a room, something that baffles me. How hard-up does a girl need to be when a psycho starts looking hot?
“Somehow, they manage to take a little time off from getting their dicks wet by the skanks around here.” She rolls her eyes and takes a bite of her sandwich.
