Eleven
In sixth grade, at the end of the very first week, I cried when I got off the bus.
The sun was ablaze in the sky, but my eyes refused to acknowledge it as I hung my head, keeping my focus on the cracked asphalt below my feet.
My shoes scuffed against the pavement, leaving black streaks on the soles of the faded Converse sneakers.
Not once did I look up until I made it to the doorstep of my house.
My parents asked me what was wrong. I didn’t answer them.
Instead, I begged them not to make me go back on Monday.
No matter how much they pried, I never told them why.
I never told them about the kids who made fun of my ‘I was going to make a joke about sodium, but NA, ’ shirt.
I never told them about the girl who said my hair looked like straw.
I never told them about the boy who ripped the book I was reading out of my hands and tossed it on the floor.
I never told them that I sat alone for lunch.
I never told them that people were signing their names on a piece of paper with the words, ‘I will never be friends with Clarke Taylor,’ written at the top.
No matter how much I pleaded to be homeschooled, my parents didn’t listen because I never gave them a reason to.
So, despite my best efforts, I returned to school on Monday and trudged through the halls, my eyes trained on my sneakers just as they had been when I walked off the bus the Friday before.
Even though I never looked up and never glanced toward the sky, I could still feel the disdainful glares of the kids around me.
I felt so small under the weight of their hatred.
It was the same feeling I had now as I stood in front of Elliot’s friends at the lunch table, looking down in silence.
“Guys, this is Clarke.”
A slim African American girl with black eyeliner glared at me. “You’re that wannabe Prom Queen girl, right?”
“Uh, yeah. That’s me.”
“Cool. Probably not gonna vote for you, but cool.”
She sat hunched forward with her elbows propped on the table. A skeptical look danced across her features and lingered even after she had stopped talking. My throat tightened as I tried to remain emotionless.
“Okay, then.” Elliot exhaled. “Anyway, that was Dani.” He turned to point at a scrawny kid sitting on the other side of the table. “And this is—”
“Andrew?” I cut him off.
“Oh, great. The cheer captain who never gives me the time of day.”
“Do you guys know each other or something?”
“Something,” Andrew muttered angrily while shoving a French fry in his mouth. “Every year, I try out for the cheer team, and every year, Miss Pretty In Pink pretends she doesn’t see me.”
“I wasn’t trying t—”
He held up his hand with his fingers splayed and threw one leg on top of the other. “Ugh, save it.”
“Wow,” I mumbled under my breath while sliding my tray on the table next to Elliot’s. “Your friends really know how to make a girl feel welcome.”
He squinted in their direction. “If I have to be around her, then you guys have to, too.”
“Hey!” I exclaimed, slapping his arm with the back of my hand.
“Maybe we should dump both of them,” Dani whispered.
“Works for me,” Andrew replied.
My spine stiffened. Elliot broke out into a grin, causing me to release a silent breath. Oh. It was just a joke. Of course, it was.
“If you guys dump me, who else would play Zombies with your lame asses?”
Dani shrugged. “There are some chill people on Discord.”
“You mean GlizzyGobbler and FastAndCurious? How much you wanna bet they’re both thirty-year-old incels?”
“Or ten-year-old trolls who only speak in memes,” she countered, her argument flimsy at best.
“Is that supposed to be better?”
“Ugh. Count your days, Ellie.” Andrew lowered his brow. “Count your days.”
“ Ellie ?” I paused. “Wait, Zombies ?”
Before he could answer, Andrew spoke again. “Don’t know your boyfriend very well, do ya, Clarke? He’s a gamer.”
“Do you guys even have anything in common?” Dani prodded further.
“Uh,” I stammered. “We—I…uh—”
“She plays video games,” Elliot blurted out.
Oh shit. Of all the lies he could’ve come up with, why that one?
I was completely fucked. The only thing I knew about video games was that the Mario theme song was annoyingly catchy.
Dun dun dun, da dun da dun dun, da da dun dun, da dun dun, da dun dun.
I internalized a shudder. That stupid fucking jingle.
I bit my lip tentatively while picking at the sides of my fingers. “Oh, um…yeah. I just don’t like to talk about it much.”
“Really? That’s actually kinda cool.” Dani nodded. “What’s your favorite game?”
I racked my brain, scrambling to claw for any references to video games that I had seen or read within the last few years.
“Actually.” I cleared my throat. “There’s a few, but if I have to choose one, then maybe World of Warcraft .”
Thank you, Ready Player One by Ernest Cline, for stopping me from drowning in a conversation I had no business being in.
Ugh . Jesus, please save me from my own ignorance.
Despite my unsteady confidence, my face held no emotion while Elliot, on the other hand, was struggling to mask his surprise.
Thankfully, Dani seemed oblivious to this as she tilted her head to the side and nodded in approval.
“Oh, nice. An oldie, but a goodie.”
Andrew pursed his lips. “I would’ve pictured you as more of a Mario kind of girl.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult? Because Mario is epic,” Elliot chimed in. “Besides, she’s beaten me at Mario Party almost every time.”
“Well, Clarke,” Andrew hissed. “Since you’re so fond of video games, how about you play COD with us this Friday at Elliot’s place?”
“Actually, I have cheer on Fridays.”
“Oh, don’t worry. We don’t meet up until around six.”
“Oh.” I gnawed at the corner of my cheek. “Then yeah. Sounds good. I love COD.”
What the hell is COD?
“Okay then. Friday it is.”
“Great.” I clapped all too enthusiastically while running my hands through my locks as I discreetly turned toward Elliot with a tight-lipped smile.
He rubbed his hand on my thigh as if trying to calm my nerves. It was distracting for sure, but it did not take away from the anxiety piercing through my core.
What the hell had I gotten myself into?
“Are you really smoking at a time like this?”
“It’s not my fault you said you loved World of Warcraft .”
I flicked the cigarette in his mouth with my fingertips, flinging it somewhere off in the distance. He let out a huff of annoyance. I shifted my weight on the cold concrete as the two of us sat on the stairs in front of the school.
Immediately after tutoring, I ushered us out the door of Mrs. Hawthorne’s classroom to a place where I could release my frustration without the prying eyes of nosy peers. I scrubbed my forehead with my hands, trying to mitigate the lines that were forming.
“You’re the one who said I liked video games!”
“I was trying to keep our cover!”
“I’d rather you say we were faking,” I mumbled under my breath.
“How do you even know about a game from 2004?”
“Books! I’m a bookworm, remember?” I exclaimed with a humorless laugh. “How else?”
“Lighten up, Princess. It’s just a stupid game. Don’t worry.”
“How can I lighten up when the only COD I know about is fish?”
A wave of laughter erupted from his throat. His features seemed to soften as he rested his hand on mine. The hairs on my arm stood at attention.
“Look, if you’re that worried, I can teach you how to play.”
My eyes widened. “Wait, really?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Pull this off, and I’ll start calling you Prince Charming instead of Abercrombie.”
“You pull this off and I’ll start calling you gamer girl instead of Princess.”
“So…” I trailed off. “Tonight, then? You’ll teach me?”
“Yeah. Come over at around seven?”
“Text me your address.”
I pushed myself off the ground, dusting off my pants.
We said our goodbyes before going our separate ways.
I was lucky enough to squeeze in one book and three short articles about COD, which apparently stood for Call of Duty , before the peaceful respite I longed for was cut short as I packed away my journal along with a few colorful pens, preparing to head out the door.
It was kind of nice having plans that didn’t involve Meredith or Kendra.
As soon as their names crossed my mind, I instinctively frowned.
Two Polaroid pictures taped to the side of the vanity captured my attention, halting me dead in my tracks.
In one photo, Meredith and I were huddling together with rehearsed smiles after our first Homecoming game in ninth grade.
The other photo was of Jessie and me sitting in front of a large Christmas tree, my leather-bound journal in hand as we both beamed at the camera. I could still hear Jessie’s words as I unwrapped her gift.
'I know that school has been rough, and you don’t want to talk about it, but maybe writing your thoughts down will help. '
For a minute, I contemplated how I had gone from one life to the other.
I stared at my reflection, wondering which version of myself I would be tonight.
Sometimes it was hard to know who I was at all anymore.
Being popular was a blessing, but it was also a curse.
Never being allowed to make a mistake. Always being watched. Never being able to be myself.
An airy laugh slipped past my lips.
Meredith would kill me for even thinking something so ungrateful.
I guess that’s why I had been distancing myself from her and Kendra.
For the most part, I had been quiet in their company, refusing to make any conversation outside of cheer practice, but I could tell they were starting to get suspicious.
Maybe it was for the best for me to pull away.
After all, once someone shows you who they really are, it’s important to believe them, no matter how desperately you want to believe anything else.
I barreled down the stairs and scurried out of the house, my nerves propelling me forward as I got into my car.