Fiction Short, created for StaceysMotheringMoments.com
I sat in the kitchen chair with my knees pressed against the sliding glass door. The rays of the sunshine streaming through the window danced on the floor, belying the freezing temperatures outside. I leaned forward resting my head against the glass and closed my eyes. The sunshine was refreshing, warm even. I glanced down at the dirty track where the door slid back and forth and watched while a spider spun a web, the tiny gossamer strands sparkling in the light.
I closed my eyes once more and pretended the world around me was silent. The spider and I were all that was left in the world. Most importantly, there was no school.
I counted my breaths, my small undeveloped chest heaving gently. Junior high was no laughing matter and today I didn’t want to go. I didn’t measure up to all of those pretty girls the guys were always ogling. I was plain and odd and clumsy. Oh so clumsy. Just yesterday, I tripped as I walked over to the tray return in the lunch room and sent my food flying all over the most popular girl in school.
She yelled, “What is WRONG with you?!?” I think there was cursing that followed, but the blood pounding in my ears drowned her out. I stood stock still as she ran off, then quickly gathered the contents of my tray and put it in the tray return.
I found the nearest bathroom and cried my poorly applied eye-liner off. The bell rung and I tried to pull myself together, my consolation being that English was next and also my favorite class. My teacher seemed to have an affinity for me and I used that to my advantage as I wandered in five minutes late.
He glanced up at me, looking through the glasses on the tip of his nose. The gray hair at his temples made me think he was easily as old as my Dad. I never wanted to be that old, but I also didn’t want to be in 7th grade anymore.
“Sorry, I’m late,” I mumbled. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as I took my seat. I doodled on my notebook through his lecture, then slipped out quietly. I was easy to ignore when I wasn’t dumping a tray full of food on the popular girl.
I decided to just survive the day and kept my head down as I made my way through the hallway to my locker. Just as I rounded the corner, I ran head-on into Miss Popular surrounded by her posse.
I gasped, then mumbled, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I began backing away, but one of her friends piped up loud enough for the entire school to hear, “Is THAT the girl who dumped her tray on you?” Disdain was written all over their faces.
“It was me and I’m so, so, so sorry.” I said. And then, I put my foot right in my mouth. “At least the colors kind of match your shirt so it’s not too noticeable.” I blushed ten shades of red as the sentence left my mouth. What was WRONG with me?!?
I spun on my heel and left the gaggle of girls bewildered and promised myself that I would never open my big mouth again.