Too Proud to Breathe

At school the next day, I tried my best to get out of seeing anyone I knew other than Tanisha. I couldn’t shake the words that Stacey had spoken to me the night before.

"He’s just playing you like a fool."

"He’s just playing you like a fool."

"He’s just playing you like a fool."

I tried to push the words from my mind as I entered home room that morning. Everyone's eyes strayed to me, the gossip flying around the room at full speed in low mumbles. Everyone knew what had happened the night before, yet the story seemed to have been twisted and distorted in a way that made the weak hearted feel pity towards me, and the rest of the population feel utter pride in Stacey in the false words that she had supposedly said.

I kept my eyes towards the ground as I walked to the back of the room, away from Taylor who had a confused expression plastered on his face. He obviously didn’t understand what was happening. Yet it didn’t matter, my insecurity and pessimistic tenancies told me that he was lying from the start, he didn’t like me and he never will. So the look that was present from him didn’t make me feel guilty, just more determined to show that nothing was affecting me.

Unfortunately the only seat available other than next to Taylor was the one directly in front of Michael. My mind instantly made its decisions. A few minutes of torment from Michael had to be better than a broken heart from Taylor.

The moment I had sat down in the chair the torture began. A harsh, powerful kick came into contact with the back of my chair which made me jolt forward a little with the sudden impact. A started gasp escaped my mouth, so quiet that only Michael and I could hear it. This produced an egotistical laugh from Michael.

The kicking continued, only getting more frequent and a little more brutal the longer it went on. The few people who had realized in class would just hide their giggles behind their hands and tap the person to their side, telling them to look without drawing the attention of Mrs. Jameson. A paper ball went flying through the air from behind me, landing just in front of me on my desk. I looked around to see who it could be, but everyone was still as they had been; laughing, looking down or still persisting with their annoying kicking.

I unfolded the note and read the note.

I heard about you and Taylor. I can't believe you thought he actually liked you. You were obviously just the mannequin in the place of the real thing. Taylor and Stacey were made for each other and youactually thought you stood a chance. You're pathetic. By the way, you're bed is awfully comfortable, I'd wash the covers if I were you, though.

Hate from,
Michael.

Tears of anger started boiling up in my eyes; I tried blinking to get them to go away before anyone discovered yet a stray tear leaked its way slowly down my face. I wished at that moment I could bubble wrap my heart, stop the fragile pieces from shattering more than they already were.

Nobody was saying the true story of what had happened the night before; just the one that Stacey had constructed and spread maliciously around the people of the school. The story was that I was a toy, a gimmick to try and make Stacey jealous enough to want to finally make her move on Taylor. I had apparently found this out because Taylor had told me and I had tried to attack Stacey viciously when I was consumed with embarrassment. Stacey had apparently shut me down before I even had a chance to give her a good lashing with my own words.

I knew Stacey and Taylor had a history, I wasn’t stupid. Everyone knew of their notorious 'on again, off again' relationship. So I didn’t feel bad that they thought I may have been an object to catch Stacey's attention, I was feel anger at the fact that I was told to be the pathetic person in this story, the needy one who obviously wanted nothing more than to get with Taylor and ruin Stacey.

Although this anger was present, I did not say a word, I sat their, bitting my lip to stop anymore tears from falling from my eyes and shot out of the door like a rocket when the bell ran signalling the end of home room.

A note dropped out of my locker once I had opened it. The words were simply just:

I have something to show you.
Meet me at the back of the bike shed after school.
Come alone.