Bully Years Tenth Grade
AUDREY
How does it feel to be the fugliest girl at school?
Is that why you keep your head buried in books and write so much—to keep us from seeing your fugly face?
Iheld back tears as I looked at the latest note that had been scrawled inside my favorite paperback with a glitter Sharpie.
I’d honestly thought that getting my braces off would change things—that I’d finally be like all the other girls.
Why am I still “fugly”?
“You’re not ugly, Audrey.” My mom’s voice filtered through my phone via voicemail. “Those girls are just jealous of you and how pretty you are, I promise. It’s just like the heroine in Ashley and the Mean Girls, remember? It took a few years, but—”
I stopped listening, upset that I’d called her in the first place. I had a mission to complete, and I was tired of her using her writing—yet again—to teach me lessons that didn’t exist.
If I could make it out of the cafeteria, through the campus garden, and past the water-sports complex without being seen by the “mean” cheerleaders, this might have been the first day of my Central High career that wasn’t a living hell.
But I needed to get by without Taylor seeing me, too.
We were the only ones left in the stands, and I refused to let him see me cry. I crossed my arms and told myself that none of these people would matter years from now. I vowed to fill out twenty more out-of-state college applications that night.
As I was envisioning myself on a leafy campus where fall actually lasted more than a few weeks, Taylor stopped in front of me and cleared his throat.
I didn’t make eye contact. I just waited for his hateful words and hoped he’d walk away right after.
“I moved your car,” he said, setting my keys on my lap. “They didn’t invite you because they were planning to paint all types of crazy shit on it and flatten your tires.”
My heart dropped to the floor; I didn’t even know how to respond.
“It’s in the teachers’ garage,” Taylor said. “Spot twelve by the window. You should head home in twenty minutes.”
When he didn’t immediately walk away, I looked up. “Let me guess—you left a bag of dog shit on the passenger seat in exchange for helping me. Or maybe you collected a month’s worth of cockroaches and placed them in my glove box so I can swerve off the road whenever it accidentally flings open?”
“No.” He had the audacity to look concerned. “Someone here did that to you before?”
“The someone is you.” I rolled my eyes. “You used lizards last time, so I’m just assuming roaches would be next.”
“I would never—”
“Bully me?” I scoffed, standing to my feet. “Thank you for saving me from one version of hell and ushering me into another.”
I walked down the stands without another word and rushed across the gymnasium floor.
Outside, I ran toward the teachers’ parking garage on the other side of campus. Just as Taylor said, my car was parked in spot twelve by the window.
Letting out a breath, I braced myself before unlocking the back door. There were no bags on the floor or on the seats—nothing tucked into the magazine pockets.
I moved to the passenger side and opened the glove box, finding nothing but the worn pages of my auto manual and copies of my insurance card. Still, I couldn’t help checking under the seat and running my hands along the vents in the dashboard.
When I was finally convinced that my drive home would be uneventful, I climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the key. Tears pricked my eyes, practically begging to fall, but I refused to give in.
I refused to let anyone at that godforsaken academy see me cry again.
I pulled down the sun visor to make sure I looked “normal,” and a folded sheet of notebook paper fluttered into my lap.
From Taylor…
I sighed. I knew this was too good to be true. But I couldn’t help opening it.
Dear Audrey,
You may be the one person at this school that I despise more than anyone else, but no one else gets to hurt you.
Only me.
Take care,
Taylor
P.S. — I told Principal Warren what’s going on. You can have that spot, which is mine, for the rest of the year.
P.P.S. — This doesn’t mean anything else changes between us.
I still fucking hate you.