Voodoo Doll

“Would you stop it?” I finally shouted causing Mr Goold to stop what he was doing and shout at me. I ignored him and turned to face the boy sat behind me. Michael Clifford had sat behind me in Maths and English for the past four years and every lesson without fail he would throw things at the back of my head, and until now I’d ignored it. My mother had always taught me that if I ignored him he’d eventually get bored and leave me alone, but I’d finally had enough.

“Whoa, it speaks.” He chuckled, earning an approving laugh from his friends. I rolled my eyes, turning to face the front of class. Mr Goold had gone back to quadratic equations, something that I could not wrap my head around for the life of me and I couldn’t help but think that Michael had something to do with it.

I finally thought he’d stopped, but ten minutes before the bell rang, I felt something hit the back of my head. Ignoring it, I sighed, letting my shoulders slump forward as I tried to hold back the tears. I didn’t know why I was so emotional today. Normally I ignored him with no problem, today was different. I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d chose me to torment for all these years? Had I done something to him that I wasn’t aware of? I couldn’t think of anything that would mean I’d deserve this treatment.

The bell finally rang signalling the end of class, but unfortunately not the end of the day. I slunk out of class, making it halfway down the corridor before I heard his voice echoing after me. “See you in English.” The smirk was evident in his voice, and before I even had time to process what was happening my feet were picking up their pace and I was running for the bathroom, tears threatening to fall any second.

I slammed the door to the stall, collapsing on the floor, finally letting the tears flow. I felt my whole body shake as I sobbed horribly. I tried desperately to calm down, but nothing was working and it only made me shake harder. I didn’t have to look in a mirror to know my make up was a mess and my nose was dripping. There wasn’t going to be any way of me covering up that I’d spent the last fifteen minutes sobbing in the girls toilets.

I tried to think about this logically; he’d spent four years tormenting me, why was it getting to me today? Was it just because I’d finally snapped? Was it coming up to that time of the month? Was I just in a bad mood already? I sighed, the tears finally calming down to a trickle.

“Annabell?” A voice came from outside the stall, it was soft and sympathetic and I almost didn’t recognise it.

“Mrs Richens?” I replied, my voice foggy from the fact I’d been crying and my nose was blocked. I scrambled up from the floor, pulling the door open to come face to face with my English teacher. She was tall and blonde and leggy and every mans dream. Every girl wanted to be her, or be her best friend, and in my best friend’s case; on her.

“Are you okay?” she asked uncertainly. She’d never made a secret of the fact she wasn’t good with crying and it was painstakingly obvious from the way she patted my shoulder, whilst looking at me and almost asking me if this was the right thing to do. I couldn’t help but let out a strangled laugh. Almost setting me off crying again.

“I’m fine!” I breathed, almost no sound came out.

She looked at me, unsure if she should press it. “Is this because of Michael, or is it something more serious?” she asked.

“Why would it be because of Michael?” I asked, walking over to the sink and running the cold water to splash over my face. I was right; my face was a mess and there was no way I was going to be able to fix my make-up. Instead I grabbed some tissue and began to remove it from my face.

“Welly just told me what happened in Maths.” She sighed, leaning against the counter next to me. “If I were you I’d have smacked him a long time ago, though if you tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it!” She chuckled.

“I just thought ignoring him would make him leave me alone, and for four years it’s what I’ve done, but it just finally got to me, and I thought maybe if I snap at him he’ll get that it pisses me off and leave me alone.” I sighed, dropping my head into my hands.

“Maybe he likes you.” She chuckled, causing me to scoff.

“We’re not in primary school. Boys don’t hit girls when they like them anymore.”

“They do if their name’s Michael Clifford and they’re as emotionally challenged as he is.” she blurted, realising what she said. “Ignore that. That was mean.” She shook her head. Sometimes I wonder if she had a filter. It was a good job she only taught the older kids.

“Yeah…I’m going to pretend you didn’t say anything.” I laughed. She really was my favourite teacher.

“You’re not going to go to History are you?”

“I wasn’t really planning on.” I admitted sheepishly.

“You can come and sit in my room if you’d prefer. I sent my class off to the library to do research.” Did I mention she was my favourite teacher? I nodded, before grabbing my bag to follow her out of the poorly lit girls bathroom.

I spent the rest of that period lounging around in the back of her class room, my back pressed to the radiator as I tried not to fall asleep. I had her next which meant I’d have to see Michael again and my stomach dropped at the thought of it.

Truth be told I had no idea why he was so mean to me. Michael had arrived at the beginning of year nine. He’d transferred from Australia, and had instantly fallen in with Ashton the other Australian in the year above. Since then Calum and Luke had arrived. I found it odd how they had all instantly gravitated towards each other, and I almost thought it was slightly racist? Country-sit? They spent all of their time together. It wasn’t like they excluded people, but they were all incredibly close and I think people found them intimidating. Well, guys did. The girls seemed to have a serious thing for them and as far as Luke, Ashton and Calum went I could understand it but when it came to Michael I just didn’t get it. He barely spoke and when he did it was to insult someone or a teacher. Granted he had good taste in music, but at the end of the day it didn’t excuse him from treating me and everyone else like shit.

I pulled out my phone to find a text from Welly, she was my best friend…the one who had the crush on Mrs Richens. Not that I blamed her, I would too if I were interested in women. Michael is an arse just ignore him chicken xx

Faggot, do you just find any excuse you can to come and talk to Richens, including my misfortunes? :P

I replied. I’d started calling her Faggot a few years ago when we’d first become friends. It was a term of endearment; I swear, but after about a year of us she finally admitted to me that she was actually gay and I’d freaked out, apologising non stop. She’d laughed at me and told me I was being stupid that she liked the nickname. I didn’t believe her to start with but she’d continued to reassure me that it was okay.

Well, you know me ;) I mean could she get any hotter? Is it weird that I am in love with our English teacher?

I laughed and chose to ignore her text. She knew what I thought about it all. I looked up at the clock hanging on the wall above the desk. Ten minutes until break time was over and English started. I hadn’t even noticed I’d missed the first five minutes of break. The bell in here was temperamental at best and I’d been so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn’t even thought to look at my phone.

“If he’s that much of an issue I can move him you know.” Miss offered, looking at me skeptically. She watched as I checked my nails and stared off into space, she was evidently worried.

“What? And cause more of an issue? No, I’ll be fine. I was just being an emotional fool.” I smiled. I had no idea why I’d let him get to me. It was so unlike me, but I realised I was making a deal over nothing and dropped it. People got emotional sometimes.

The bell finally rang, but I knew he wouldn’t walk through the door for at least another ten minutes. He was always late. I took a seat in my spot to the left of the class room, leaning my head against the cool wall.

“Hey, miss.” I was snapped from my thoughts when I realised that the first person to walk through the door was not Catherine or George but Michael. I tried to make it look like I hadn’t noticed, but he shot me a look that let me know he’d seen. There was something quieter about him and I couldn’t quite work out what it was, but he wasn’t walking with as much confidence, he dragged his feet and his shoulders sagged forward slightly. Something most people probably wouldn’t even notice, but I’d learnt that the way he walked dictated how he was going to treat me. This, however, I’d never seen. There was something pathetic about it, and I almost felt bad for him, but then I remembered he’d made me cry in the bathroom only this morning and any sympathy I had for him dissipated.

“Hello, Michael.” she replied, her voice curt. This seemed to physically knock the air out of him as he took his seat next to me, laying his head on the desk. I was tempted to ask him what was wrong, and I could hear the voice in the back of my mind telling me it was a bad idea but I just couldn’t help myself.

“Are you okay?” I asked without looking at him, my voice barely a whisper.

“Why do you care?” he bit back venomously.

“You’re a human being, and you seem upset. Why wouldn’t I care?” I was confused. Surely people were supposed to care when others were upset? Even though I’d tried to convince myself I didn’t care I hated the idea of someone being upset. Even someone I wasn’t particularly fond of.

“You’re insane.” He rolled his eyes, dropping his head back to the desk. He still hadn’t answered my question but I figured he didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t push it. The rest of the class filed in one by one.

“Why do you even put up with him?” George asked as he walked in the class. Not even bothering to wait to sit down.

I shot him a frown, “George, that’s not very nice!” Why did everyone have to be so mean?

“Oh, come on, Annabell, we all know he treats you like crap and he gets his little goonies to go along with it.” I scoffed. That was rich coming from George. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I liked George but he was hardly the epitome of a perfect person.

“Well, it doesn’t bother me, so why should it bother you?” I snapped. I was fed up of being treated like I was this breakable little thing.

“Okay, so King Lear!” Mrs Richens interjected.

We hadn’t got half way through the lesson before Michael had gone back to his usual annoying self. I felt a pen dig into my side. I squirmed away in discomfort. Ignoring him though and continuing making notes.

“Does nothing get to you?” He finally whispered after ten minutes.

“You don’t. What’s the point in letting it get to me? Are you going to stop if I do?” I asked without taking my eyes off the board. He didn’t reply.

The end of class was drawing near and I couldn’t help but thank God. I was moments away from smacking the smik of of Michael’s face.

“I hope you all understand how much work this play is. It isn’t going to be easy, and it’s going to be a massive work load. So I’ve decided to pair you up. I know there are a few people in here who are willing to work hard to get the grade and I know some of you want the grade but aren’t so willing to work for it and because of that I’m pairing you up for a project. It’ll take the rest of the term.” She directed her look to me and I felt my stomach drop because I knew exactly what she was doing. “Some of you will get this done quicker than others and that’s okay. I want to see work from you every week and I was you to work together. I know your writing and I know how you work and if you think you can just pan this off on your partner you are sorely mistaken. You’re going to need to work on this together. Anywhere between three and five hours a week.” She continued to rattle on, listing the particulars of the project before finally getting to our pairs. She left me till last. “Annabell, you’ll be working with Michael.”

George shot me a pointed look across the room. It was almost an ‘I told you so’. I rolled my eyes, turning my attention to Michael.

“So how do you want to do this? When are you free?” I asked. I saw the look on his face but cut him off before he even said it. “I’m not doing all the work. We’re doing this together, Michael.” I sighed. I wanted him to like me. I wanted to be liked by everyone. It was possibly my biggest flaw. I liked being liked.

He thought a moment, pulling out his phone and going to the planner. “I only have one free period with you this week.” He frowned.

“What about after school?” I wanted to groan. I didn’t want to give up my afternoons to spend with him any more than he did.

“I have band practice every day till five. I guess I’m free after that.” He shot me a skeptical look.

“I can do that! We could do every day, every other day, whatever you prefer.” I smiled. I think this was the first time since he’d arrived in year nine that I had actually talked to him.

“How about every other day? I don’t think I could quite cope with seeing you every day.” He sneered.

“Fine. We’ll start today though, if that’s okay? I’d prefer to start while it’s fresh in my mind.” I began to pack up my books into my bag, standing to leave before I realised, “I don’t know where you live…”

“Can we not do it at yours?” He asked hesitantly.

“Not really, we can if you really want. There just isn’t really anywhere to work.” I left it at that without going into much detail.

“Fine.” He mumbled as he wrote down the address, shoving the piece of paper in my hand and storming out the room.