Page 4 of Neverland

“Is that the girl he felt up?”

“Who is she?”

“I don’t get what the fuss is over.”

“She’s a nobody.”

Despite having been in the same class for three quarters of the year, it appeared right up until the fight, I was just as invisible as I was on the first day. What a difference half an hour and a commotion could make.

The girls who wore too much makeup, who thrived on attention and who had Daddy’s money to spend, eyed me up and down, their derision clear. I didn’t fit in, I never had. Compared to most, I was poor, and for that reason I was invisible. I didn’t cake my face with expensive makeup and didn’t dress in season, which meant I wasn’t worth knowing. But when a boy two years older than me sticks his hand up my skirt causing a schoolyard fight, suddenly people wonder who I am and where I’ve come from.

I didn’t care about them. I cared about my best friend who was with the school nurse getting treated for his cuts and bruises and possibly a broken nose.

“Attention students,” a voice belonging to administration came over the loudspeaker, interrupting an annoyed Mrs. Garland who was on a roll discussing how fight or flight worked for warring soldiers. “Lucy Sommers to Principal Rosser’s office immediately. Thank you.”

Heads turned, eighteen pairs of eyes assessing my response. I could literally hear their nasty thoughts, their stares speaking volumes.

“Lucy, you’re going to have to see me at break to get the rest of the notes.” Unlike the others, my teacher’s eyes were kind. She knew trouble always found me. She knew my parents. She also knew that despite it all, I was her top student in History and was often on my case ensuring I wasn’t slipping.

“Yes, ma’am,” I agreed, unhooking my backpack from the chair and gathering my books and stationery, kindly provided by Mrs. Garland.

“Snitches get stitches,” a warning sounded from behind. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Cameron’s stony expression. He was on the junior football team so there was a high chance he knew the eleventh grader.

Biting my lip to stop a retort that would only provoke matters, I weaved through the desks and whispers. Only when I entered the empty hall did I breathe a sigh of relief.

It didn’t last long.

The door to the admin office flew violently open as I reached for the brass knob. Caught off-guard, I stepped to the side as a disgruntled student barreled past, his ignorance to my presence evident when his shoulder collided with mine.

I winced with pain, but he didn’t stop. There was no apology. I was invisible.

Greeting Mrs. Seymore at reception, I sat down on the rickety wooden chair and waited my turn. Within moments, a fuming voice filled the small office. It came from Principal Rosser’s office. Clutching my backpack to my chest, my leg began a nervous bounce.

“Everything okay, honey?” Mrs. Seymore asked.

I met the concerned eyes and nodded. “Yes, I’m—”

“You know what’s a fucking joke?” A tall, tanned, muscly man with jet black, slicked back hair erupted through the door, smashing it against the wall, the glass panel dangerously vibrating in its frame. “The fucking joke is if you punish my boy and let that greaser get off scot-free.”

“Firstly…” Principal Rosser began with a calmness not many could master as well as he while placating the irate parent. “The name calling is unnecessary and not something we welcome in our multi-cultural school, and second, I won’t be discussing your son’s punishment with the other family just as I wouldn’t mention their son to you.”

Rosser’s eyes flicked to mine. He looked nervous. Why? The big man’s gaze followed. I shifted uncomfortably under his watchful stare and wondered why he made a point of lingering too long. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

Rosser cleared his throat. “Mr. Salvatore, I’ll be in touch at the end of the day once all involved have been spoken to.”

Salvatore scoffed. “Yeah, I’m not going to hold my breath. You’ve already fucking made your decision against my son.” Taking his leave, he swung the small wooden partition door with such force, it smashed into the reception desk causing everyone in the room to jump with fright. I stood to the side, holding my backpack close to my chest and getting as far away from the door as possible. Once more, I felt his unwanted attention, a shiver running up my spine. His tongue pressed to the back of his top teeth, making a ‘tsssssst’ sound, following it with a leer. A leer that shared an uncanny resemblance to the one which taunted me at recess.

“Miss Sommers,” Principal Rosser’s request broke the spell. “My office.” I followed him in and took a seat, nervously fidgeting with the bag strap’s metal buckle. I had a few reasons to be nervous. Firstly, being called into the principal’s office to discuss a schoolyard altercation was not something I wanted on my record. And secondly, Mr. Rosser was far too distracting. He was a handsome black man in his thirties, and the subject of many teenage girl crushes. The evidence was written with black markers all over the toilet doors and walls. And while I wasn’t one for following trends, especially by my female peers, I did agree with them on this occasion.

“Mr. Rosser, do you know how Romeo is? Is he okay?”

He glanced up while shuffling through some paperwork. “Mr. Sanchez is in a lot of trouble, Lucy.”

“He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That’s not what witnesses say. They say he was very much an instigator.”

“Would you consider him an instigator because he was defending me? That boy stuck his hand up my skirt.”

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