Sierra
Chapter six
Ismell like shit. The stench of the garbage that was in my locker stuck to me like a fly on a fly trap. Opening the door, yet again to the front office, I step through it to see the shocked faces of Mrs. Bullock and Mr. Stevenson.
“Sweet Jesus, what in the world happened to you?” Mrs. Bullock cries out as she rushes over to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder, ushering me over to an open chair.
“Oh, please don’t. I don’t want the smell to get on you.” I’m trying my hardest to pull away from her, but she’s not having it.
“Hosh posh, a little stink never hurt anyone. Now tell me what happened?”
Mr. Stevenson makes his way over as well, standing beside Mrs. Bullock, his face scrunched up in concern.
“I-I-I don’t know.” I stutter. “When I opened my locker, the trash came falling out on top of me. I’m so sorry.
I need a custodian to clean it up, or just give me a trash bag and some cleaner, so I can clean my locker and see how badly the books are that I placed in there this morning. ”
“You will do no such thing.” Mr. Stevenson’s voice booms through the office.
“I’ll contact Mr. Turner and have him go take care of cleaning up the mess and your locker.
As for the books, we will replace the ones you had in there and also assign you a new locker.
What I would like to know is how someone got into it, especially if it was locked? ”
“I don’t know.” I keep my head down as I fight to hold back the tears that are trying to break free.
“Did you have any personal items in your locker?” Mrs. Bullock asks, her voice soft, soothing my agitated state.
“No, thankfully.”
“Okay, so what we need to do now is get you to the bathroom and get you cleaned up as best we can. While you’re doing that, I’m going to go check the lost and found box and see if there is any clothing left from last year.
Your shorts look to be okay. It appears most of the damage was to your shirt. ”
With Mr. Stevenson on the school walkie-talkie with the custodial staff and Mrs. Bullock on the hunt for a shirt, I rush off to the bathroom, thankful that the bell for the next class has already sounded, and the halls are empty.
As I cross the threshold from the hallway to the bathroom, I’m still fighting back the tears that are begging to be released. There's no way I will ever give the assholes at this school the pleasure of them seeing me shed one tear because of the abuse they unload on me, day after torturous day.
I step up beside the trash can and start pulling chunks of trash off of me.
I can feel my face turning crimson as I see a used condom stuck to my shirt right over my tit.
Fuck, it was on there in front of Mr. Stevenson.
Stepping into a stall, I pull toilet paper off a roll and use it as a glove to pick it off and toss it quickly into the trash.
Moving back over to the sink, I look in the mirror, seeing that some trash has stuck to the ends of my hair. Quickly wetting it and pumping some soap in my hand from the unit on the wall, I try to wash it the best I can.
I hear a soft rapping on the door as it opens just a crack. “Sierra, I found a shirt. I’m not sure how well it will fit though,” Mrs. Bullock says as she opens the door wider and steps inside, handing me the most blinding bright orange shirt I’ve ever seen.
Reaching out, I take it from her, weighing out my options at the moment.
Stay in the stained, smelly shirt, or change into the loudest shirt I’ve ever seen.
It takes a moment for me to take the shirt I’m wearing by the hem and pull it over my head, shaking it out over the trash can, knocking down any loose remnants that may be on it.
Catching Mrs. Bullock out of the corner of my eye, her face is blushing, no doubt because of how freely I stripped in front of her.
But I’ve undressed in front of a room of horny drunken men so many times it doesn’t phase me anymore.
Quickly, I pull the shirt over my head and tuck the extra length into my shorts, attempting to make it look somewhat presentable.
“Thank you so much for your help and kindness, Mrs. Bullock.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll let you finish up here.
” She hands me a clear plastic bag. “For your shirt. When you’re done, meet me in the office, and I’ll have your replacement books, based on your schedule, and a new locker assignment and combination.
It looks like you may have only missed about thirty minutes of fifth period. ” She turns and hurries out the door.
I place my shirt in the bag, hoping I’ll be able to get all the stains out when I wash it.
Taking one final look in the mirror, inspecting myself to be sure there’s nothing else to be found on me, I say a silent prayer that the stench of rotten trash isn’t lingering on me.
I know I need to just get this over with and quit stalling.
Walking out of the bathroom, I head to the office to collect the things Mrs. Bullock has for me, along with my pass for being late to my next class.
No doubt by now, the news of what happened has spread through the school like wildfire.
Looking down, I check my schedule for my next class and see I have trigonometry with Mr. Johnson; perfect, this day just keeps getting better and better.
Thankfully, only two classes left, and the last one is an elective: library assistant.
I can immerse myself in the one place the wretched students of this school only go to if they have to.
Stepping up to the door of the classroom, I open it slowly and step inside, trying hard to pretend not to notice the eyes that are focused on me or the muffled laughs.
“Ahh, Sierra, so good of you to join us. I heard you had an unfortunate accident. Please pick up a syllabus and textbook off the edge of the desk and quickly find a seat.”
Hurrying, I step over to the desk, drop my pass down on it, and pick up the specified items before turning, facing the rows of students, looking for an empty desk.
Gazing out across the room, my eyes zero in on the boy from my literature class and Brax from the shoe store, sitting side by side, surrounded by a cluster of Wes’ group.
Spotting an empty desk on the farthest side of the room from them, I make a beeline straight to it, tuning out the comments of who stinks, slut, and all the other vile names they could come up with to call me.
They really all just fade together so much, I never try to make them out.
As I sit listening to the remainder of the lecture, I feel as if a laser beam is burning a hole straight through my head.
Each time I turn my head in their direction, I see their eyes staring back at me.
The way Braxton just acted as if he had never met me still makes me angry.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, seeing who he’s already hanging around with.
My anxiety heightens knowing I have to do the literature project with the new guy and current Wes bestie, Zander.
I can only imagine the mean pranks he has planned to play on me.
Worst of all, I wonder if he will try to sabotage my grade.
The bell rings and I jump up, snatching my bag and books and hightail it out of the room as fast as I can.
I have one class left before I can hide within the book stacks of the library.
Gym class. Yuck. We never dressed out on the first day, so I didn’t bring any clothes to change into.
In hindsight, I wish I would have, and then I wouldn’t look like a walking glow stick, directing my tormentors straight to where I am.
Gym went as I expected. The class cliques hung together, and I tried to position myself as far away from them as possible.
Keeping myself within the sights of the coach, hoping above all it would deter them from some of the worst pranks, making them stick to their voiced insults.
It didn’t help that I shared this class with Wes, his best bud, Jack and Savannah, and her cronies.
The real torture would come tomorrow when classes actually started, and I had to dress out. Last year I had to keep an extra change of clothes stashed in a corner in the equipment room, behind a stack of cones no one ever used.
But stepping into the library, I inhale the scent I love, books.
I had an e-reader until my aunt stole it and sold it for money, after ridiculing my choice of romance books.
She took joy in letting me know that no man would want a poor, stupid, ugly girl like me.
Words that hurt, especially with how my life is now.
It was like she stuck a knife straight through my heart and twisted it.
I got over it, the loss of the e-reader I mean.
At least five days a week, I get to hold a book in my hand; there's nothing like the smell of the pages when you flip them open.
Making my way behind the counter, I head to the office to look for Mrs. Pearl. As I near her door, I hear her laughter, followed by a masculine one. I know that laugh anywhere. How did he beat me here? Wesley Johnson, my ex-best friend, the boy I was in love with.
My hideaway, my one period of the day I could breathe, may just potentially be taken away from me. I lift my hand and knock softly.
“Ahh, there you are, Sierra.” Mrs. Pearl smiles at me. “Just in time, I was getting ready to discuss with Wesley what I expect out of you as a librarian assistant. Please come in and take a seat.”
Yep, it’s ruined.
Making my way in, I take the seat next to him, trying to avoid making any eye contact or letting him know just how much this turn of events has rattled me.
The entire time I sit there listening to Mrs. Pearl, I feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my head.
When I finally relent and look his way, the sinister look in his eyes has my stomach rolling, as I fight back the bile that’s clawing its way up my throat, trying to break free.
“Okay, so let’s go get the new shipment of books scanned in and on the shelves. It should take up the rest of the time today and may need to be finished tomorrow.”
Huh? Scanned books? Fuck, I’ve been so zoned out I didn’t catch a bit of what she was saying.
“Yeah, Sierra, let’s get to work and quit daydreaming. We’re a team here, and I can’t do all the work and cover for you like I did last year. Seemed you could never get shit done during your time in the library.” The venom in his voice gives me pause as his words sink in.
What the fuck is he talking about?
“Sierra, there’s no time for letting our minds wander in the clouds; Wesley is correct.
You’re a team and are expected to pull equal weight.
If you’re not able to, we may need to have you reassigned to another class.
” She pointedly looks at me with her stern gaze before glancing back and forth between Wes and me.
Now I get it. He knew how much I loved books, that the library was my escape, and he was going to try his damndest to take it away from me. Ripping the one good thing about this school right out from under me, while he laughed at my agonizing pain.
We stand and Mrs. Pearl leads us out of the office and over to the corner where an array of boxes awaits.
“Okay, so here they are. Each of you can take one box at a time and get them keyed into the system, then shelve them in the correct area. Each of you worked here last year, so you should remember how to do it. If you have any questions, just come find me.” She pushes her glasses back up from where they slipped, turning quickly and scurrying back off to her office, leaving the two of us alone together.
I knew he worked in the library last year, but thankfully in a different period than me.
Leave it to this fucking school to ruin the one period of the day I can be free.
Moving over to the boxes, I struggle to pick one up, hearing Wesley’s laughter as he lifts his own box with ease.
Finally, I opt to just drag it over to the counter where the other computer is located; of course, he took the one closest to the stack of boxes.
Mrs. Pearl must hear my grunts and moans of frustration and pops her head out of the office door. “What in tarnation is going on out here?” It’s then she sees me struggling with the box. “Wesley, can you be a dear and help her?”
“I tried Mrs. Pearl, but she kept on about how she didn’t need my help.”
My head jerks over to him in shock, but really, why am I surprised? I know what he’s like, and he’s done nothing but lie since this class started.
“Sierra, those boxes are far too heavy. Next time, take the help offered and don’t be so stubborn. By struggling with those boxes, you’re delaying getting them into the system and causing Wesley to have to do more of the work.”
Really! Is this really fucking happening right now?
Turning my head, so she can’t see me rolling my eyes, I respond to her in a sickly sweet voice. “You’re right, Mrs. Pearl. How rude of me to be so stubborn. Wesley,” I grit my teeth together as I say his name, “will you please move this box over for me?”
I can tell he’s getting a hard-on at how much this is killing me to say. “Of course, Sierra, it would’ve already been there if you would’ve let me do it when I asked.” He picks up the box I’ve been struggling to move with ease and sits it down by the computer, smiling like a Cheshire cat.
“See how easy that was,” Mrs. Pearl announces as she turns and heads back to the office.
I can hear his muffled laughs under his breath, but I won’t give him any more enjoyment from my pain. I set to work, focused on getting as much done as I can before the bell rings.
“Mrs. Pearl,” Wesley calls out about twenty minutes later.
“Yes!” she calls back from her office, her voice echoing off the wall.
“Do we have some air freshener? Something out here really stinks, and it’s making me nauseous. I was hoping to cover up the stench.” Pure evil was present in his voice.
“Yes, right in here. Just take a break for a moment and come get it.”
He heads to her office, returning a minute later, moving towards me at a rapid pace before holding the can up and spraying it directly at me. I barely get my eyes closed in time, but a stream of spray goes directly into my mouth, sending me into a coughing fit.
“Everything okay?” she calls from her office, not once getting up to check what's happening.
“Yeah, Sierra’s just overreacting.”
“Well, cut it out and get back to work; you have about fifteen minutes before you need to clean up. Whatever you didn’t finish, just leave a note, and you can get to it tomorrow.”
Fifteen minutes. I can make it, as I get my coughing under control. I now know I’ll need to watch my back every minute of this class.