Page 64 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

Me: I like doing plenty stuff like baking. Can you bake? I can’t dance but I make a mean donut. Do you like donuts? I’ll take a wild guess and assume you do because everyone loves donuts. Nope, I’m not a new student.

I have this shoebox for keeping everything I love and it holds our letters. I don’t want this to end. We might hate each other in real life but we are safe within these letters. I like that feeling. I like that we don’t know each other and I want it to be like this forever. Is that a stupid thing to say? It is, right?

Lett:No, never stupid. It’s not stupid. Nothing you say is stupid. It’s fine. I get it. I do. I feel safe within our letters too, because I can tell you anything without being judged. I have a lot of friends but they have this image of me and I have to keep up appearances. I asked for the number because sometimes I don’t want to wait too long for your reply. If this helps, I promise not to stop sending the letters. I don’t have a shoebox but I keep yours in a box in my closet. I reread our letters sometimes. Lol. Now I sound cheesy.

One week.

It has been one long week since I gave him Hayden’s old number. I push the notes into my shoebox and close the lid. It might be weird, but I duplicate my replies and keep a copy for myself. Why? I don’t know, but I like rereading them with his reply. To know when I go off. Like now, I have reread all of them in order. But nothing seems off in my reply. So, why hasn’t he replied?

I have been checking Hayden’s old phone since I gave him the number. Did I scare him by mentioning his brother? I ask about AJ all the time. I know how much he loves cookies and cake.

These thoughts occupy my mind as I skip to my closet to prepare for Nate’s Halloween party. It starts at seven, but we will arrive at eight as per Maria’s orders. The later, the better, that’s what the party animal said. Left to me, I would rather be in here rereading our letters. I’ll never admit it to Lett, but I am glad he regrets kissing that girl. Does he have lips as soft-looking as Ben’s?

Not me thinking about that idiot again. If I wasn’t sure before, now, I am confident he’s ignoring me. He sat beside Abigail in all our classes this week. In Ms. Eva’s class, he sat far away from me, and I’m his partner. He accepted my hug, acted like we were cool, and then became this demon when Olivia showed up. If anyone should be ignoring anyone, I should be the one ignoring him.

Who does he think he is? I thought…I thought he liked…I don’t know anymore. But Ben is evil.

The phone ringing on the vanity pushes me into action. I let it ring twice before picking.

“Didn’t you hear your phone? I have been calling you since like forever, Theresa Mower,” Maria screams the moment I answer. She yells a lot when she is excited, and I know why or who is making her act this way. Daniel Holt. “Anyway, I hope your ass is ready cos I’m almost there.”

“Almost where?”

The call ends. I stare at my screen and whimper.Okay, I can do this. If I attend this party, it’s one more item off my list. Sign up for drama club. Check. Attend a party. Double check. Getting a kiss is hard. Getting a boyfriend is harder, but we will have to make do with those two for now.

I slip into my costume and run my fingers over the soft, red material. Like Superman’s, it covers every inch of my body. A mini spread skirt is replacing Spiderman’s underwear, and the S logo emblazoned on my chest is also in cursive. I let my hair down, apply dark makeup around my eyes and finish the look with a red lipstick that can be spotted from a mile radius. I ditch my sneakers for a pair of combat boots that elevate my height, giving myself two thumbs up in the mirror.

If I do say so myself, I look good. With the smoky eye and bold lips, I’m a different version of the Tessa everyone is used to seeing. I look like an actual girl who puts effort into her appearance.

Almost downstairs, I am forced to stand at the foot of the stairs while Mom takes a million and one pictures. She grins, a proud look in her eyes as she suggests poses to me. I strike every pose without a fuss to please her and myself because I love my outfit and how it makes me feel.

Her eyes shimmer with tears at the end of our photo session. She gives me a side hug, and I relax my head on her shoulder. “My baby girl is so grown. When did you grow so much?”

I laugh. “Mom, I’ve always been a big girl.”

“A big girl who attends parties.” She dabs her eyes. I muster a big smile. She gets too emotional over little things. “I wish your dad was here. He’s so proud of you,” she whispers as she pulls me in for another hug. My smile dims. He had to rush to the hospital, or he would have been here.

The honk from outside causes us to break apart. “My ride is here,” I whisper. Mom lets go, but her hand lingers on my shoulder. Maria honks again like the crazy lady she is. I try to pry Mom’s hand off me, but she refuses, so I give her another brief hug. This is how I feel when they leave me here alone for the night and on some weekends. “Mom, it’s just a party. I’ll be back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t forget your curfew.”

Today I get to stay an extra hour out, but I know for sure I’ll be back early. “Yes, Mom.”

Her hand rests on my back as we walk to the front door. “Make sure you have fun.” I already had fun playing dress up. I don’t want to push my luck. “Take pictures. Loosen up, Tessa. Be a teenager.”

The breeze slaps our hair into our faces as soon as we open the door. Mom walks me to Maria’s car in silence. Maria’s face is a mask of innocence when we approach her. I roll my eyes when she flashes my mom a sweet smile. This vagabond wanted to ruin my eardrums a few minutes ago.

Mom subjects us to another photo session and my eyes water from staring so much at the flashlight. Eventually, my mom lets us go, and Maria drives off immediately to avoid her calling us back.

I love Mom but no more pictures. “Your mom is clingy,” Maria murmurs.

We are a few meters away from the party. I can hear the music. Nate’s parents must be out of town, and we don’t have to worry about disturbing the neighbors if he doesn’t have any.

“Tell me about it,” I say seconds later.

“I like it.” We share a look, and she shrugs. No doubt Maria’s mother loves her, but she doesn’t show it the way Mom does. Mom is very physical with her emotions, and she loves to show that. Maria parks in front of Nate’s mansion, and my jaw drops. His house is enormous, the kind of house you only see in movies of teenagers with filthy rich parents. “Let’s get this party started.”

Thirty-Eight

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