Page 47 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

I start the car without replying to the chubby fuck. What if the cookies are poisoned?

The sound of a bike cuts through the air, and I slow down as Ben’s bike crawls out from the other side of the parking lot. Ben notices my car and pushes his visor up. Our eyes lock, and a shiver runs down my spine. We are not friends, but we are no longer enemies. I wave at him, happier than I should be to see him. He scoffs, looking behind me to see the person in the car.

His eyes return to mine in a chilly glare. I lower my hand hanging in the air and tighten it around the steering wheel. The motorbike’s engine punctuates the silence, and Ben drives past my car without a word or glance at me. I slide down my seat. I don’t know why I thought we were cool.

I don’t know why I thought the ride I gave him yesterday made us non-enemies. I stare at the hand I used to wave, and his reaction stings more than it should have. He could have at least honked or waved or stopped by to ask if I got home safe.

Benjamin Carter is an asshole.

A song blasts through the radio. I yelp, and Curt laughs, reminding me of his unwanted presence. What is his problem? Touching things in people’s cars without their permission is wrong.

“That was hella awkward, Tessa,” he says. I hope he chokes on the cookies. This is one time I wish I wasn’t nice. I ignore him and step on the brake. “But that guy is too arrogant, anyway.”

Twenty-Eight

Lett:I’m sorry you get bullied. And I understand how you feel about your dad. I know that feeling all too well. Daddy used to be so busy, but he tried to be there for us as much as possible. I miss him sometimes. We both do. Some days hurt more than others, but we do our best to survive.

The divorce hit him so bad he spiraled out of control and was always in and out of rehab. Alcohol was his new best friend. The few times he was sober, he was the best dad a kid could ever ask for. Daddy didn’t want the divorce, but mom did. She wasn’t happy in the marriage anymore. We all knew because their fights became more frequent, but we hoped she would change her mind.

It’s funny how no one asks the kids what they want, they don’t care how the separation affects us. We didn’t even ask to be brought into this fucking world. It’s unfair of them and maybe selfish of me to wish she stayed with him a little longer until AJ and I were much older to handle the divorce, but I wish she did. Maybe he might still be here with us today. Daddy was a really good man. They were both good parents.

Lol. I think I am rambling now. Enough about me and my sad stories. Let’s talk about you, miss. Am I right? You are a girl, right? Why haven’t you been to a party? Why haven’t you kissed or dated? Tell me.

My cheeks hurt from smiling so much as I bring out my pen to reply Lett. I fold his letter and slide it into my bag to store it in my favorite shoebox once I get home. He’s not here, but I’m nervous. I try to picture him hidden behind the shelves in the library as he scribbled those words.

Does he wait till he gets home before replying?

Does he get so anxious and impatient about my reply?

Does he change his handwriting like I do, so the chances of figuring out who he is, are less?

How often does he check? I give up on figuring out the mystery guy and start writing.

Me:Yes, I’m a girl. What do you want to know? Ask me anything and I promise to answer. Relationships are complicated. I don’t think we should be thinking of it at this point. We have our whole life ahead of us. We can meet people, fall in love, and have our happy ever after. No need to rush into it.

Guilt threatens to choke me when I reread my lines. The white lie. I turn off the radio playing in the background and stare out the window. Lett was honest with me. I owe him that much.

I tug on my ponytail one last time and resume writing. This time, I will be honest. We don’t know each other. I can get away with telling him whatever I want. Plus, I trust him.

Me: BUT. The primary reason is relationships scare me. Many things can go wrong. I don’t want to lose lifelong friendships over a failed relationship or be the middleman when there’s a fight between two of my best friends. Sorry if I’m not making sense but it happened to me once. I can’t risk it happening again, so no relationships for now. Besides, I don’t think anyone wants to date me. No one notices me, and I like it that way. I admit I make efforts to be invisible. I don’t know why but I am kind of used to it.

There isn’t really much to say about me. I am the good girl, the poster child for good behavior. Straight As with the occasional B+ that happened only once. I think that’s all there is to know about me. Now I’m the one rambling. Lol. I ramble a lot when I am nervous, you are making me nervous. Lol.

Anyways, how’s AJ? I hope you two are fine and taking care of each other. I’m sure you are. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, I will always try to help. Before you say it, the answer is no. I don’t pity you. I just want to help. Two of you don’t deserve the hand life dealt you and if you need anyone to talk to, I am here for you. I hope you take me up on my offer, and I don’t mind reading your rambles. I ramble too.

Someone bangs on my car window. I scream, and in my panic, the note flies to the backseat. My hand goes over my chest to calm my racing heart. I breathe through my mouth until the pounding subsides. Maria raises her eyebrows in mockery and folds her arms on her chest. She gestures for me to roll down the window, and I grudgingly oblige her. Why can’t she act normal for once?

“The bell already rang twice, Tessa,” she says. “What are you still doing here?”

Maria’s eyes wander to the sheets scattered on the backseat. I start shaking my head, but that only piques her interest. No, she can’t read them. I have never complained to her about my dad or his job. It’s bad enough that I invaded Lett’s privacy. I won’t forgive myself if she reads his letter.

“Is it the boy?” She opens the backdoor, picks up my letter to him, and slides in. It istheboy, but it’s not what she hopes. I think Lett is okay, but that’s it. He’s still a stranger. A cool one. “Can I?”

“No.”

I angle my upper body so I am facing her. My fingers itch to snatch the letters spread on her lap, but I stay put. If I show too much interest in it, her curiosity will grow, and against my wish, she will read them out and tease me about it for days. To be fair, that’s something I might do to her.

“Please don’t read it,” I murmur in a soft voice while playing with the hem of my shirt. Maria shoves the letters under my school bag, and I smile when she joins me in the front. “Thank you.”

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