The Walking Dead

Chp. 3

I walked out of the class as the bell rang for break. I didn't feel like eating so I just headed to the spot I usually spend my breaks. On the other side of the school field, where the land slopes downward, massive roots of a large tree stick out. I sit between them and admire a view of the busy streets of Johannesburg.

It's definitely not a view of the streets of New York but it's something to keep my mind off my problems. It's the view of cars passing while streetvenders sold their snacks and artworks. Others danced on the streets, jepa was the new trend, in hopes drivers would reward them with change for the small performance.

Occasionally taxi drivers would get into disputes with one another about one stealing the other's customers. This wasn't always a pleasant scene but usually another driver would stop them before things got bloody.

Sometimes I would spend this time writing but often I have a feeling I'm being watched. I look around and see no one but I still feel like someone's eyes are on me. I took out the pamphlet Mrs Ivey gave me.

It was about the upcoming school play, she said the drama team desperately needed a writer and she thought I should take that chance. I told her I'd think about it but I really don't want to. Everyone I've met in this school doesn't like me, they always hurt me.

And if my writing had to be criticized, if my writing had to be called horrible, I'll probably let myself drop from the twelfth floor. If my writing is not worth it, if my writing is not special, I don't know why I'm alive.

I would've given up ages ago, honestly. I would've committed suicide as soon as I stepped into this school but I didn't. Because Mrs Ivey saw me, sitting alone and writing. She asked if she could read it and she saw potential.

I didn't kill myself because there was still hope, one person, out of billions thought I had potential. I don't believe that my writing is the best but I try because I don't want to let her down. I'm alive because I believe she wouldn't lie to me.

I don't know why I think so highly of her when she's a human being, she could lie if she wanted to, she could've been lying the whole time. It's possible. My life has not been filled with the best of luck but rather the contrary. I don't know why I believe her, but if I'm alive it's cause she believes in me.

I heard the bell ring and made my way to class. I had Math. I took my seat and took out my books. The teacher hadn't walked in yet and I was getting worried. Absent teacher plus present troublemakers equals torture.

I looked out the window and saw the troublemakers approaching but no teacher in sight. I anxiously tapped my foot on the floor praying the teacher was close by. After a few seconds I couldn't handle any more. I packed my bag and walked out of the class only to be shoved into the wall.

"Ye wena, where do think you're going?" Melissa stood tall holding me by my shirt. "I aksed you a question!"

"I-"

I felt a fist to the stomach and yelped in pain.

"She was running away, like a chicken," I heard Melissa's other friend Natalie say.

"She is a chicken, she even has the legs. Long and skinny. Nothing but skin and bone," Chantel spat.

"But the sad thing is, even the skin is ugly. She's a yellowbone gone wrong," Natalie said looking me up and down.

"Ya shame neh," Melissa agreed before giving me a fist to the face.

"Didn't her mother die?"

"She did, probably because she couldn't handle her only child's ugliness."