Release Me
two.
School was a living hell for me; especially in the seventh grade. But Jonathan made it better, and I was grateful for that. No one ever rarely gave me the time of day. To them, I was invisible. They rarely noticed me, but when they were in that rebellious mood, and they were looking for a target to fuck around with, so they'd attack me. I felt like my invisibility shield would turn off and I was the center of attention. They'd call me out on my weight, appearance, and basically everything else about me. It was like I was living a nightmare.
“Why don't you ever wear your hair down?” A semi-acquaintance of mine, Anne, asked me. She was, without a doubt, one of the pretty girls in our class, and the only person that was considered “cool” who was nice to me, or at least acknowledged my own presence. She always insisted that I should get a make-over, which I sort of found insulting. Whenever she told me this I would shake my head and decline the offer.
“Come on, Cinthia!” She would say when I did. “It'll be super fun and amazing. You're already super pretty, we might as well accentuate your, like, prettiness.”
I never believed her on the pretty part.
–
“Here, have my lunch, fat bitch.” Angel dropped two slices of pizza onto my tray, and then a small bowl of apple sauce. The apple sauce dropped with a splash, and the contents from the bowl went flying all over my face. He laughed, just like the rest of the cafeteria did.
I expected Anne to yell at him, or maybe Briana, who was another one of my acquaintances, to defend me. But neither of them did. I felt all alone again. They didn't laugh, nor did they looked concerned. They merely just had blank looks on their faces when I looked at them.
“Did you see her face!?” I heard someone ask. I didn't look, I was just running straight to the bathroom, tears streaming down my face. No one bothered to ask if I was okay. Teachers weren't aware of what went down, surprisingly. They were too busy being on the other end of the cafeteria, oblivious to the fact that a student was being bullied by the school's biggest trouble-maker.
I was glad no one was in there. Immediately, I went up to the faucet and turned it on. I continued to cry as I analyzed myself, picking out all my imperfections. My circles were too dark, my eyes were too boring, my lips were too big. My nose was abnormally huge. Everything about me was repulsive.
There was apple sauce in my hair and on my face, and I tried my best to get rid of it. My baby hairs were sticking out once I was done, and I took the time to redo my bun, even if it still looked the same: messy and completely untamed.
The bell for the end of lunch rang, and I heard the rumbling feet of students run back to their classes. A loud chorus of laughs echoed throughout the hallway. Kids cheered Angel, and some even praised him. “That was some hilarious shit, man!” They would say.
I waited until the halls were quiet before I slipped out of the bathroom and walked to my class. I didn't care if I was late.
“Hey!” Someone yelled. My footsteps quickened. “Wait up!”
“If you're here to make fun of me then just go away!” I was on the verge of tears, again. I kept my head down, even when the person walked up to me.
“Nah, chill.” He told me. “I'm not like that.” His voice I remembered so perfectly. It was that kid from Reading class. The new student. He automatically came across as one of the bad boys the first time he walked in, so he was automatically considered cool.
“What do you want?” I pulled the sleeves of my sweater. It was something I always did when I felt uncomfortable, or even intimidated.
“I just wanted to see if you were okay.” He told me. “I don't think it's right for Angel to be doing shit like that, know what I mean?”
I shook my head and sniffled. I still had yet to look at him. “No,” I told him. “I don't know.”
“Well,” He said. “I'm sorry Angel's such an ass.”
“You talk about him as if you had freaking known him for so long.”
“I have.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, so, I'm sorry he's being an ass. You left the cafeteria pretty upset.” The whole time he was telling me that, I wondered where he was to defend me. Even if we hadn't talked before the lunch incident, I would've appreciated if he did something. But no, he just sat there, stuffing his damn face with pizza, or whatever the hell the other lunch choice was.
“Well, thanks, I guess.” I told him. I lifted my head up a little bit, to get some look at his face. He was tan, much like I was. His eyes were a dark shade of brown, and his hair was dark brown as well. He was nothing interesting to me, but I guess you could say he was pretty good looking. I didn't stare for too long though, I never really wanted anyone to see me so up close. It made me feel insecure, which was why I hated making eye contact.
“You're welcome,” He told me. “I'll see you around, aight?”
“Uh,” I mumbled. “sure, I guess.”
He was gone before I could blink.
–
“How was school?” My mother asked me. “Did you have fun?” She was home from work early, I had noticed. Usually, It'd be my sister, brother, step father, and grandma in the house when I came home. But at the moment, they had gone out. It was just my mother and I.
“Ma, you know it's never a fun day for me.” Recalling the events that happened at school, my eyes started to water. My mother put her cigarette down and walked over to me. She enveloped me in a hug.
“Oh, sweetie.” She cooed, running a soothing hand down my back. “You need to learn to just ignore it.” But I couldn't, because the damage was already done. Everyone made it blatantly obvious that they loved to mess with me. And it didn't take long to let the fact that I'm ugly and fat, and disgusting--according to people at school—to stay stuck in my head forever.
–
Jonathan and I hung out some more after our first encounter. He was a pretty chill guy, I noticed. He didn't care what anyone thought about him, and he was very nice. We never really hung out at school, since he was always with the cool people, and I was always by myself, but outside of school, we'd hang out all the time.
It was weird, really. Or at least to me it was. No one had ever wanted to talk to me or get to know me, so I was beginning to think why, of all people, Jonathan wanted to befriend me.
“They're all idiots,” Jonathan said to me after I had told him other stories about Angel and his gang making fun of me. “Each and every one of them.” I didn't say anything. His eyes were trained on the basketball hoops in the courtyard. I wondered what he was thinking about.
It was silent for a while. I was looking at my legs, watching them swing forward and back in front of me. My hands were folded on my lap. It was pretty awkward, considering we didn't really know much about each other, and because we didn't have much to talk about, but he wanted me to go with him to the courts.
It was strange, because whenever I talked to Jonathan, I felt like I could just talk to him about anything. I felt comfortable enough to tell him everything, because something in me told me that he wouldn't think any less of me, and I liked being able to talk to someone. Finally.
“You play basketball?” He asked. I looked at him incredulously.
“Have you taken a look at my physical appearance?” I asked him. “Obviously I don't play basketball.” I saw his eyes trail down my body, and that insecure feeling was creeping back to me. If anyone made me feel uncomfortable in my own skin, it was Jonathan. To me, I had to look perfect for him, and it took me a while to realize it was because I liked him a little too much. So, I made sure to dress up real nice before we left for the courts.
“Well, I could teach you.” He suggested. “It's mad easy to play basketball.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, for people like you.”
“What you mean people like me?” He asked, confused.
“You know...” I trailed off. At that moment, I realized that I was going to fully describe how I saw this boy, and the realization freaked me out, because my first thought was that he was going to be down right disgusted a girl like me; fat and ugly, was, basically, complimenting him. But I still did it anyways. “Freakin' athletic, good-looking, semi-muscular boys like you. That's who.” His initial response shocked me; he laughed. At first, it started off as a chuckle, then into a low laugh, and exploded into full-blown laughing-your-ass-off type of laugh.
“Damn, Cinthia.” Jonathan told me when he stopped laughing. “Really?”
I was embarrassed of the fact that he just laughed at me. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die, because getting laughed at by Jonathan was an awful thing that could happen to me when it came to something involving him.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “really.”
“Cinthia, you could do anything if you just tried.” He told me. “Remember the saying, practice makes perfect.”
He taught me how to play basketball that day, and I failed miserably. But he was not once annoyed by how bad I shot the ball, or how slow I was when I ran. He simply gave me tips and pointers to improve that. It was the first time in my life that I felt like I could do the impossible. And that, to me, was a huge accomplishment.
“Why don't you ever wear your hair down?” A semi-acquaintance of mine, Anne, asked me. She was, without a doubt, one of the pretty girls in our class, and the only person that was considered “cool” who was nice to me, or at least acknowledged my own presence. She always insisted that I should get a make-over, which I sort of found insulting. Whenever she told me this I would shake my head and decline the offer.
“Come on, Cinthia!” She would say when I did. “It'll be super fun and amazing. You're already super pretty, we might as well accentuate your, like, prettiness.”
I never believed her on the pretty part.
–
“Here, have my lunch, fat bitch.” Angel dropped two slices of pizza onto my tray, and then a small bowl of apple sauce. The apple sauce dropped with a splash, and the contents from the bowl went flying all over my face. He laughed, just like the rest of the cafeteria did.
I expected Anne to yell at him, or maybe Briana, who was another one of my acquaintances, to defend me. But neither of them did. I felt all alone again. They didn't laugh, nor did they looked concerned. They merely just had blank looks on their faces when I looked at them.
“Did you see her face!?” I heard someone ask. I didn't look, I was just running straight to the bathroom, tears streaming down my face. No one bothered to ask if I was okay. Teachers weren't aware of what went down, surprisingly. They were too busy being on the other end of the cafeteria, oblivious to the fact that a student was being bullied by the school's biggest trouble-maker.
I was glad no one was in there. Immediately, I went up to the faucet and turned it on. I continued to cry as I analyzed myself, picking out all my imperfections. My circles were too dark, my eyes were too boring, my lips were too big. My nose was abnormally huge. Everything about me was repulsive.
There was apple sauce in my hair and on my face, and I tried my best to get rid of it. My baby hairs were sticking out once I was done, and I took the time to redo my bun, even if it still looked the same: messy and completely untamed.
The bell for the end of lunch rang, and I heard the rumbling feet of students run back to their classes. A loud chorus of laughs echoed throughout the hallway. Kids cheered Angel, and some even praised him. “That was some hilarious shit, man!” They would say.
I waited until the halls were quiet before I slipped out of the bathroom and walked to my class. I didn't care if I was late.
“Hey!” Someone yelled. My footsteps quickened. “Wait up!”
“If you're here to make fun of me then just go away!” I was on the verge of tears, again. I kept my head down, even when the person walked up to me.
“Nah, chill.” He told me. “I'm not like that.” His voice I remembered so perfectly. It was that kid from Reading class. The new student. He automatically came across as one of the bad boys the first time he walked in, so he was automatically considered cool.
“What do you want?” I pulled the sleeves of my sweater. It was something I always did when I felt uncomfortable, or even intimidated.
“I just wanted to see if you were okay.” He told me. “I don't think it's right for Angel to be doing shit like that, know what I mean?”
I shook my head and sniffled. I still had yet to look at him. “No,” I told him. “I don't know.”
“Well,” He said. “I'm sorry Angel's such an ass.”
“You talk about him as if you had freaking known him for so long.”
“I have.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, so, I'm sorry he's being an ass. You left the cafeteria pretty upset.” The whole time he was telling me that, I wondered where he was to defend me. Even if we hadn't talked before the lunch incident, I would've appreciated if he did something. But no, he just sat there, stuffing his damn face with pizza, or whatever the hell the other lunch choice was.
“Well, thanks, I guess.” I told him. I lifted my head up a little bit, to get some look at his face. He was tan, much like I was. His eyes were a dark shade of brown, and his hair was dark brown as well. He was nothing interesting to me, but I guess you could say he was pretty good looking. I didn't stare for too long though, I never really wanted anyone to see me so up close. It made me feel insecure, which was why I hated making eye contact.
“You're welcome,” He told me. “I'll see you around, aight?”
“Uh,” I mumbled. “sure, I guess.”
He was gone before I could blink.
–
“How was school?” My mother asked me. “Did you have fun?” She was home from work early, I had noticed. Usually, It'd be my sister, brother, step father, and grandma in the house when I came home. But at the moment, they had gone out. It was just my mother and I.
“Ma, you know it's never a fun day for me.” Recalling the events that happened at school, my eyes started to water. My mother put her cigarette down and walked over to me. She enveloped me in a hug.
“Oh, sweetie.” She cooed, running a soothing hand down my back. “You need to learn to just ignore it.” But I couldn't, because the damage was already done. Everyone made it blatantly obvious that they loved to mess with me. And it didn't take long to let the fact that I'm ugly and fat, and disgusting--according to people at school—to stay stuck in my head forever.
–
Jonathan and I hung out some more after our first encounter. He was a pretty chill guy, I noticed. He didn't care what anyone thought about him, and he was very nice. We never really hung out at school, since he was always with the cool people, and I was always by myself, but outside of school, we'd hang out all the time.
It was weird, really. Or at least to me it was. No one had ever wanted to talk to me or get to know me, so I was beginning to think why, of all people, Jonathan wanted to befriend me.
“They're all idiots,” Jonathan said to me after I had told him other stories about Angel and his gang making fun of me. “Each and every one of them.” I didn't say anything. His eyes were trained on the basketball hoops in the courtyard. I wondered what he was thinking about.
It was silent for a while. I was looking at my legs, watching them swing forward and back in front of me. My hands were folded on my lap. It was pretty awkward, considering we didn't really know much about each other, and because we didn't have much to talk about, but he wanted me to go with him to the courts.
It was strange, because whenever I talked to Jonathan, I felt like I could just talk to him about anything. I felt comfortable enough to tell him everything, because something in me told me that he wouldn't think any less of me, and I liked being able to talk to someone. Finally.
“You play basketball?” He asked. I looked at him incredulously.
“Have you taken a look at my physical appearance?” I asked him. “Obviously I don't play basketball.” I saw his eyes trail down my body, and that insecure feeling was creeping back to me. If anyone made me feel uncomfortable in my own skin, it was Jonathan. To me, I had to look perfect for him, and it took me a while to realize it was because I liked him a little too much. So, I made sure to dress up real nice before we left for the courts.
“Well, I could teach you.” He suggested. “It's mad easy to play basketball.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, for people like you.”
“What you mean people like me?” He asked, confused.
“You know...” I trailed off. At that moment, I realized that I was going to fully describe how I saw this boy, and the realization freaked me out, because my first thought was that he was going to be down right disgusted a girl like me; fat and ugly, was, basically, complimenting him. But I still did it anyways. “Freakin' athletic, good-looking, semi-muscular boys like you. That's who.” His initial response shocked me; he laughed. At first, it started off as a chuckle, then into a low laugh, and exploded into full-blown laughing-your-ass-off type of laugh.
“Damn, Cinthia.” Jonathan told me when he stopped laughing. “Really?”
I was embarrassed of the fact that he just laughed at me. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die, because getting laughed at by Jonathan was an awful thing that could happen to me when it came to something involving him.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “really.”
“Cinthia, you could do anything if you just tried.” He told me. “Remember the saying, practice makes perfect.”
He taught me how to play basketball that day, and I failed miserably. But he was not once annoyed by how bad I shot the ball, or how slow I was when I ran. He simply gave me tips and pointers to improve that. It was the first time in my life that I felt like I could do the impossible. And that, to me, was a huge accomplishment.