Presley reaches over and picks up my pen then writes something down on a piece of paper. She scoots it in front of me when she’s done.
Hey! Did something happen with Cassie?
When Mr. Stanley turns to write on the board, I pick up my pen and answer her.
She called me the four-eyed whale again. She’s always been mean to me, so I’m used to it. It’s just been a while since she pulled one of her pranks, so I thought she was done with me. But this morning, she threatened to get me in trouble again.
I look up to make sure Mr. Stanley still isn’t watching then I push it back over to her.
What do you mean by threatened to get you in trouble again?
Where to even begin. I guess I’ll start at the very first attack when Cassie put her lunchbox in my backpack then told the teacher I had stolen it. I was a first-grader getting called into the principal’s office for stealing. He sent me home from school and told me I needed to spend the afternoon thinking over my actions. My parents were so disappointed, they grounded me for it. I tried to tell them I didn’t do it, but no one believed me. My mom told me that if I needed more food in my lunch, all I had to do was ask. I guess everyone assumed the fat girl wasn’t getting enough to eat and that was my reason for taking it.
Then there was the time Cassie put blue dye in our classroom fish tank and slipped the bottle into my cubby. Another traumatic attack was in seventh grade, when she went crying tothe guidance counselor, saying I’d been picking on her. Again, no one believed my truth and I was forced to take anti-bullying classes.
But I think the worst moment was when Cassie wrote a raunchy letter to the principal and signed my name to it. I’ve never been so horrified in my life. Our middle school principal couldn’t even look at me when he spoke. He told me that it’s a confusing time in my life and that if I needed to talk about the feelings I was having, the guidance counselor would be willing to sit down with me. I’m just thankful Cassie had waited until the end of the school year to pull that prank because I only had a few weeks before I never had to see him again.
The last major attack was when she somehow managed to copy one of the essays I’d submitted for a class. She told the teacher I’d stolen her work. Thankfully, she was the one caught in the lie that time. I guess she never figured that the computer had an imprint of everything, and both of our computers showed exactly when the document was created and on which computer it had been created on first. She got detention for it, the first mark against her perfect record, and since then she’s laid off the attacks.
Of course, the name calling never stops. The rude comments in passing. Her trying to trip me in the hall and remind me of where I stand in her kingdom still happens nearly every day. But I haven’t gotten called to the principal’s office in a long time. Yet here we are. And it feels like I’m staring at the end of a loaded gun, waiting for her to pull the trigger and kill all that I’ve worked hard for.
Presley finishes reading my note, the abbreviated list of my hell, and looks up. There’s actually sadness in her eyes. She feels sorry for me. I’ve never had someone feel bad for my situation. Everyone in our school seems to think it’s hilarious.
Presley picks up my pen again and starts writing fast, shaking her head as she scribbles down each word. Mr. Stanley is starting to go around the room and ask questions. I look at the problem he writes out on the board, calculating the answer in my head. Coming up with the solution in case I get called on.
I’m really sorry, Ruby. You don’t deserve that. No one does. The only thing I can tell you is it’s obvious she’s jealous of you for some reason. I know it’s a shit thing to say, but you should take her cruelty as a compliment because in her mind, she thinks you’re better than her. I know it may not seem that way, but it’s the truth.
Take her cruelty as a compliment? That doesn’t even make sense. There’s no way Cassie would be jealous of me. She has everything. The body, the looks, the big house, the nice car, everyone loves her, and she has every teacher thinking she’s the spirit of our school and a role model for all the younger kids. It’s impossible that she’d be jealous of anything concerning me. I think she just gets bored and thinks it’s fun.
Why would she be jealous of me?
I slide the paper toward her.
Because you’re pretty, smart, and nice. She probably saw you as a threat back then, and ever since, she’s been trying to make sure you never outshine her. But she’s not going to do that anymore. I’m not going to let her.
I’m finding that really hard to believe. In the first grade, I was a threat to no one. Smart, yes. But so is Cassie. And I may be nice, but Cassie always had friends. I appreciate Presley trying to make me feel better, but I don’t think Cassie’s ever been worried about me outshining her. I think she just likes having someone she can target. I think it makes her feel powerful. Makes her feel like a true queen.
Mr. Stanley looks in our direction, so I tuck the note under my notebook. He calls on Chase to answer the problem, but Chase is still looking at his paper, trying to work out the equation. As the seconds pass, it becomes obvious he’s struggling. I whisper the answer under my breath, and he calls it out. Mr. Stanley tells him he’s correct and then moves onto the next student.
“Thank you,” Chase whispers under his breath, and I feel a flush of heat rush right to my face. I can’t believe Chase Warren just spoke to me.
“All right, class. You can break off into your groups and work on the rest. Just keep it down.”
Mr. Stanley goes to sit at his desk, and I quickly work through the assignment.
“You’re really good at this stuff,” Chase says.
I look up, tucking my hair behind my ear, feeling the blush creep back into my cheeks. “Thanks.” He’s still working through the problems, and I can already see that he has two of the answers wrong. “It’s my favorite subject. If you ever need me to help tutor you or anything, let me know.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need any help.” His cold voice tightens my stomach. “I’m not a fucking idiot; he just caught me off guard.” And what he really meant to say was that he’d never be caught dead with the loser. For a moment, I had forgotten my place in his world.
“Sorry, I was just offering. I wasn’t… Never mind.” I drop my eyes back down to my paper, feeling like an idiot. Just because he’s sitting with us, doesn’t mean we’re friends.
“Can you help me, Ruby?” Presley turns, pointing to her paper. “I’m struggling on these. Can you show me what I’m doing wrong?” I tuck down my embarrassment, letting the rejection roll off. At least there’s one person who’s okay talking with me.
CHAPTER 4
Chase