Two

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"Miss Angel Heart,"

My head snaps from its resting position on my propped hand and my eyes dart to the front of the class. A petite, ageing woman looks at me expectantly.

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask.

"I said," Mrs Brown removes her reading glasses from her face, "Can you give me the answer to this problem, Miss Heart."

I take in a deep breath and take a look at the blank paper on my desk. I shake my head.

"No, Mrs Brown" I say honestly. " I can't." She puts her glasses back on and turns to face the black board.

"Well obviously you can't. I don't see how you can get the answer by staring at the oh-so-interesting trees outside," she condemns, writing down the equation to get the answer on the board.

"As if I don't have enough problems of my own to solve," I mutter under my breath but it does not go unnoticed by the old hag.

"If only you would put that smart mouth of yours to good use," she voice drips with sarcasm. The entire class snickers. " Learning requires you to actually be in class, young lady. We can't have you running around - well, at least in your imagination you can, - or so I've heard that you wouldn't get far anyway!"

The class howls with laughter. No one is holding back. They are practically granted the permission to trample all over whatever was left of my dignity.

With a sharp turn of my head, I stare at the hyenas, quieting them down immediately but not completely. Some boys at the back of the class taunt me by pretending to be scared by my glare while the girls cackle like old, dying witches.

I turn around and sink into my seat. Throughout the rest of the lesson, scrunched up balls of paper are thrown at me, some even with not-so-friendly notes inside insulting the me with almost every profanity and insulting my lack of athletic skills and what not.

The electric bell shrills, signalling us that it is lunchtime, putting an end to the world's most obnoxious subject, Maths. Just for the day, at least.

As I rise from my assigned seat and stretch my limbs, Mrs Brown calls me to the teacher's desk. With a grunt in annoyance, I drag my feet to the front of the class but not before tripping over legs that were put out especially for yours truly.

"Angel, I'd like you to finish up all these worksheets." Mrs Brown hands me a module that has the words 'intensive practice' in bold, block letters on the front cover. "Hand them in to me two days from now. Also, be prepared as I'll be giving you a short test on the same day on all the chapters that we have wrapped up." Mrs Brown packs all of her belongings up and leaves for the exit. I stand there like a waxed dummy until reality slaps me in the face once more.

"Wait!" I call out. "Mrs Brown, why am I the only one getting all of this?" I inquire.

"That is for not paying attention in my class and for drawing a moustache on my picture in the copy of the school magazine at the office. I know it was you," she says, getting up in my face. She is so close to me, I can see strands of grey peaking out from amongst her artificially auburn-coloured hair. She tries to intimidate me by narrowing her beady, little eyes at me but it does not waver me at all. If I chop off the heels of her stilettos, I would be an entire foot taller that her.

Our staring competition goes on for a few more seconds before she turns on her heels and stomps out of the class, leaving me alone in the room. I let out a cry of frustration and the echo bounces around the room.

A hand grabs my wrist as I tread angrily out of the classroom. I find Elliot leaning against the wall with his right leg propped up against it and his other hand buried in his pocket. He looks me in the eye through the luscious locks of his bangs. All my anger evaporates. No words are needed. He reads me like an open book.

Elliot takes my hand and begins to walk me down the hallway. Along the way, his group of friends parade over, grab him and haul him along with them. Sometimes I ponder as to why he is even friends with me.

I continue walking to my locker alone. When I get there, I see that my locker has been 'decorated' with words like 'Satan', 'devil's child' and some other 'friendly' names. Water drips off the sides. I brace myself for whatever is on the other side. When I open my locker, water pours out. The interior of my locker is wet, all my books are torn and ripped, all my homework is destroyed. Water drips down from the door of the locker onto my shoes. My socks will be soaked soon.

Mentally disoriented, I shut the door and make my way to the canteen. I can worry about my books later - there is not much that can be saved anymore anyways.

I trudge my way into the canteen. I am the only one in the corridor now, my heavy footsteps echo and bounce off the walls.

Behind the heavy double doors, I can hear muffled chatter and laughter. Envy. A desolate sigh escapes me, my heart and mind both longing to taste even the smallest pinch of euphoria.

As I push the door, my eyes run across the room searching for their favourite pair. Accompanied by his signature grin, the glistening of his eyes causes my cheek muscles to contract.

I take long, quick strides, trying to move as stealthily as I can. But my journey is interrupted. A blonde girl with too much make up and a potentially fake nose in her cheerleader uniform steps in front of me. I see her all around school all the time but I don't know her name. And I don't want to because I don't need too. With an artificial smile, she greets me.

"Oh my god, Angel, I tots love your sweater! It's soo cute!" Her high pitched voice rings in my ears and if it doesn't stop, I am guaranteed to have a headache. "Oh gosh, girl, what is that ugly stain!?" The blonde rests a hand in her hip and points her finger on the other to the fabric on my chest with a look of disgust plastered across her face. Foolishly, my gullible self looks down and I search for the said stain which I do not remember getting.

"Where?"

I feel a splat on my head, liquid sliding down the side of my face. Some of it runs to the corner of my lips and it tastes like tomatoes. Spaghetti runs down my face and as I remove the strings of pasta from my sight, four more plates are thrown my way. Why did I even bother? I think.

The table to my left howls with laughter, bringing everyone's attention to me. No one hesitates to join in and start pointing at the mess that I am.

Without second guessing, I rush out of the canteen, slipping from the slippery sauce twice, encouraging more ridicule. I know Elliot is watching. I can feel his eyes burning into my back.

I head straight for the lavatory. As I try to clean as much tomato sauce as I can from my hair and sweater, I accidentally eavesdrop on a conversation I wish hadn't.

They were talking about me.

"Like what is she even trying to do? Did you see what she was wearing today? She was totally wearing his sweater. I know it's his cause he used to wear it all the time when we were in the same Physics class."

"OMG, girl! Do you think they're dating? Cause like why would he even want her? I mean, we're way prettier than her."

"Maybe they're, like, fuck buddies and he's just using her for sex. She'd probably do anything he says cause she so has a thing for him."

I grip the side of the sink so hard, my knuckles start to turn white.

"Oh my god, totally. She's probably wearing it cause he gave it to her after they fucked but she thinks he actually likes her back."

"What a slut."

Something inside of me snaps. I feel a sharp stab in my stomach. It feels like someone slapped me in the face and ripped out my stomach before mincing it into a million little pieces. My vision starts to blur but I hurry out of the loo before they can hear me.

I have had much worst than this and I usually shake it off with a breeze. But that was the last stand.

I have had enough.

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