You can Bet on Me

Part 7 ~ Bullied

Maddison
I continued giving Michael the desserts through his locker for the next week, and we would have pleasant conversations more often. I felt... happy. I sat with him sometimes at his table, and made sure that Vivienne, Cassie, and Hailey came as well.
Some of the girls at his table despised me and kept flirting with Michael, but he shut them down every time and I grew to love it. But other girls at his table warmed up to me and we were practically friends. Whenever we saw each other in the hallways, it was never a 'wave and that's it' kind of thing – we actually stopped and he would ask me what my next class was and walk me there before leaving with a friendly smile and wave.
The hot weather was finally starting to cease as winter came around, and I began wearing long sleeve shirts and long pants to school. Today, I was wearing an emerald-green cardigan with long jeans, and I tucked my hands in the long sleeves of my cardigan. As I walked through the hallway, I was joined by Iris and Laura and Paige who were all laughing and chatting.
"Hey," Paige waved. "Have you done the history homework?"
"Yeah," I replied.
"Well, uh, sorry but..." she looked away and blushed as she looked back at me and asked, "could I- could I copy it? I was really busy with the math project last night."
"Wasn't it due on Wednesday?" I asked, an eyebrow raised.
"Yup, but I didn't manage to finish, so I'm going to do it now," she flicked her fingers dismissively and whipped her gorgeous blonde hair over her shoulder. "Anyways, can I?"
"Sure," I shrugged as we stopped at the cafeteria. I took my history book out and gave it to Paige as she flashed a thankful smile at me before sitting down to copy it at a table.
Laura and Iris were deep in conversation about some Derek dude and I said to whoever was still listening or whoever still cared, "I'm going to the bathroom."
"'Kay," Paige murmured as she wrote down an answer in her textbook. I rushed off to the bathroom and went into a stall. After I came out, I saw four girls in the bathroom. I recognized them all as girls from Michael's table – the ones that hated me. I swallowed my fear and washed my hands. They were putting on make-up and using the mirror as guidance.
"So," the girl closest to me who was putting on mascara said casually. "You really dating Michael?"
"Yeah," I replied as I turned off the water tap. She suddenly put her mascara away in her bag and I was about to step out the door when a brunette girl blocked me.
"No you don't," she said, waving a perfectly manicured finger at me. "We've got a little bit more business with you."
They all suddenly closed in on me and I was pushed against the back wall. "What do you want from me?" I scowled.
"Oh, you know. To break you, hurt you, take Michael away from you – the list goes on and on," said a beautiful girl with a blue streak dyed in her hair, listing those topics on her sparkly nail-polished fingers.
"So that's it?" I flicked my fingers dismissively. "You're doing this just because you jealous little brats can't handle someone else stealing your man. Well too bad."
The four girls glared at me, and one grabbed my arm. "You listen here." She pushed her fake nails into my skin and I winced. "We aren't jealous. We just hate you enough to not let you have Michael."
"So you are jealous little brats," I shot back.
"Maybe we are," the girl holding my arm dug her nails deeper into my skin, drawing blood. "You don't deserve him. We know it, you know it, he knows it. Face it. You're not good enough for him. You're boring and plain and nerdy; nothing like him. He's the definition of perfect, and you're the definition of ugly."
"And you're the definition of stupid," I murmured.
"You have something to say?" she snapped.
"Yeah, let go of me bitch." I growled.
I continued to defiantly hold her glare and shot my own. I wasn't going to back down when I was being threatened – I could be timid, but I wouldn't just let myself get bullied for absolutely no reason by jealous brats. The brunette girl raised her arm and before I could even wonder what she was doing, she slapped me across the face.
It stung as I raised my head back up to glare at her, tempted to slap her back but knowing that I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk the detention. But I could always tattletale like the little snitch I was, except I wasn't. I wasn't a little snitch. Why? I could stand up for myself just fine, but they would find a way to turn the story on me. And the principal would believe them over me because there are four of them and one of me.
If I fought, I would be fighting a losing battle.
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