Skater Cinderella (First Edition)

Chapter 18

On Friday, I spent the entire school day avoiding Will like the plague. That was particularly hard when I share four classes with him. Not to mention that all of those terrible things he said had spread like wildfire, making me the new laughing stalk of the school. Not only were people repeating to me what he said--telling me I will never be enough for the likes of him--but people were resorting to just taunting me, laughing at me for who I am. At first all the words and taunting hurt, but by lunch time, I just numbed myself to it, not really caring for anything they said.

It is not like they really know you. They only know your name and a stupid rumor that mentioned you in it.

That was the thought that I kept telling myself. That was the thought that I told myself every single time someone called me an unoriginal name or taunted me for my less than conventional looks. It took all of my will--power to not attack them back. I refused to stoop to their level. I refused to get revenge.

It was in the last class, five minutes left on the clock, when I began to wish for a quick death. When my resolve to ignore it all broke. Fortunately, but also unfortunately, I didn't share this class with Will.

"Hey, Tessa." Melissa Thomas, the captain of the school softball team, sneers, causing me to look up from the paper I was doodling on.

"Uh... can I help you?" I asked her, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"No, you can't really help anybody." She suddenly snaps, smirking as a round of giggles erupt in the classroom. Our poor English teacher, Mrs. Schmuck (I know, I know, not the greatest last name.) was completely unresponsive as she was engrossed in the book in her hands.

I bet it's one of those lame Fabio romance books.

I snorted as I thought of the weird, photo-shopped foreign dude with long hair.

"What are you laughing at, freak?" Melissa sneers, pulling me out of my comedic Fabio fantasies.

I raise an eyebrow at her as she looks me up and down in disgust. "Um, is that really your insult?" I ask her, still not surprised that she thought the word 'freak' would somehow cause my feelings to get hurt.

I have dealt with much worse. This chick's opinion doesn't even matter.

She looks at me as if I had just told her that Beyonce was really a man while growing a second head. "I'm sorry?" She demands.

I just shrug and go back to doodling on my notepad. "I'm just saying, if you really wanted to get under my skin, you will have to work a little bit more at your insults. I mean, 'freak'? Could you get anymore unoriginal and cliche? Pretty soon I expect to see you strutting around in a skirt that could compare to a belt and flirting with any member of the male species." I say absentmindedly, focusing more on the very poorly drawn flower in my notebook.

Silence meets my comment, and I scrunch my eyebrows together as I click my pen closed.

Did she leave?

I glance up, only to see her burning a hole in my head as her face turns red and contorts red with rage.

Wait... Does she...?

"Wait, wait," I say, a small grin threatening to overcome my lips as I finally notice her more than necessarily tight clothes, "don't tell me that I was actually on point when describing the clichè mean girl?" I ask, only getting a harsh glare in return as she clenches her fists to keep from attacking me. My eyes widen before I crack up at my desk, holding my ribs as I laugh so hard. "Oh... My... God..." I wheeze, nearly falling out of my seat as I laugh.