A Seer’s Promise

“Fuck,” I hiss as my shoulder hits the lockers. I am trying my best to keep my notebook and textbook from hitting the floor. I don’t need to be laughed at because my things also hit the floor.

“Move it, or lose it, nobody,” Dustin growls as he walks past me with his friends.

Dustin’s friends are the majority the football team. The group lets out chuckles as they pass me. A few of them glare at me for daring to take up space. But there are a few who look uncomfortable at the bullying. Silence is still bullying; I want to point out.

I let out a sigh as I try to rearrange my things, so I don’t drop them. Why are the hot guys the ones that are total assholes? It’s so cliché.

“Babe!” Britney shouts, shoulder checking me from behind. As my things hit the floor, Britney jumps into Dustin’s arms.

“Hey,” Dustin says with what sounds like forced enthusiasm, but he still catches her. “Careful of the nobody.”

I kneel down to pick up my things. I shake my head, so my red hair creates a curtain to hide my frown. My textbook has folded pages now, and my notebook loses a page. I start to reach for my errant page.

Britney turns to look at me. She has a sneer on her face. “Look at the loser,” she says sweetly. “Ben pick up the page for the loser.”

Ben, Dustin’s best friend, shoots a glare to Dustin that Britney doesn’t see, but I do. Ben walks closer. He bends over and picks up my lost page. As he attempts to hand it over, Britney gasps.

“Oh my god, what is that?” she demands with mock horror. She practically jumps out of Dustin’s arms. Her feet hit the ground, and she takes two large steps towards Ben and me. Britney snatches my drawing from Ben.

My heart sinks as I catch sight of what it is.

“What a stalking, freak!” Britney shouts as she starts to show off my drawing. She wants the audience to laugh at me.

The drawing is a sketch of Dustin sitting under the tree in front of school. He has his head tipped back, asleep against the tree. Dustin looks peaceful and younger than he is. For being eighteen and a senior, he carries himself like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“You’re so pathetic,” she scoffs at me. Britney grips the paper and rips it down the center.

The rip happens right through his head and neck, like she just decapitated her boyfriend. I want to cry. I spent the first week of school perfecting that drawing, making it look like a photograph instead of a drawing.

“Let’s go, we have practice,” Dustin says, his voice practically growling. He glares at me once more before he continues on his way out of the school building.

Britney lets out a high pitch laugh as she spins to trail after Dustin.

Everyone else walks away, most likely to football practice.

“Sorry about her,” Ben whispers before he walks away.

I let out a sigh as the hall goes quiet as high schoolers leave for the day. The hallway emptying as my little showdown happened. I turn around and face my locker. Putting in my combination, I feel an overwhelming wave of anger at what just happened.

It’s not fair that the new girl gets bullied. I did nothing except for existing and taking up space. I don’t even want to be here!

I take a deep breath and count to ten like my therapist has taught me. I am a cliché high school student. I am bullied by the superstar couple of the school. I have anger issues and I see a therapist. Yep, make me a good singer and I could star in my own version of High School Musical.

I put my things away and grab my backpack. I dump my sketch book into it and swing my bag onto my back.

I try not to stomp my way out of the high school building, but I know I failed.

“You’re late,” Sophie, my little sister says as she sits on the short wall, swinging her feet.

I ignore her and keep walking. I hike my backpack up higher. Looking up at the sky, I take in the gray clouds. It smells like it will rain soon.

“Who was it this time?” Sophie asks as she jumps off the wall. Her feet make a slight thud against the pavement.

“Does it matter?” I challenge. What is a sixth grader going to do against the football team?

“Talking helps,” she states simply.

“And I’m Dr. Phill,” I state.

“Marcy,” she sighs in the tone of a little kid who knows everything and I’m being dramatic.

I keep walking, not wanting to engage.

Sophie lets out a sigh before stomping after me. “You know, studies show that talking about your feelings help.”

“So does cussing,” I say in return. “Since when did you become a psychiatrist? You’re in sixth grade.” 

“Mom hates when you cuss,” she says.

“She’s not our mom,” I say in reflex.

Sophie goes quiet at that statement and stops walking.

“Sorry Soph,” I say as I take a deep breath.

“I know she’s not mom, but she still loves us like she is our mom,” Sophie sniffles.

I turn around and wrap Sophie in a hug. She returns the hug with enthusiasm, latching onto me tightly.

“I miss her,” she cries into me.

“I know. I do too,” I say as I start to rub circles on her back.

One tragic back story, add that to the reason why I should be the star of the show.

“Come on, let’s get ice cream,” I say as I break the hug. I glance up at the sky; we should have enough time before it starts to rain.

“We’re not supposed to eat sweets before dinner,” she laughs wetly.

“Well, I won’t tell if you don’t,” I say with a laugh, trying to sound cheerful.

We take off towards the best diner in town, not to mention it’s the only diner in town.