Beauty and the Geek Boy

Chapter 57-Ellie

*Beauty*

I shoved Justin off of me. "What the f—"

And then, Gemma punched him in the face. It happened so fast that for a moment I couldn't comprehend what happened. Justin on the floor, dazed and half-unconscious, and Gemma scowling above him, and everyone around us frozen in shock.

And then, chaos.

*

This, was how we all ended up, sat outside the principal's office. The corridor was deadly silent; my gaze shifted from the wall, to my friends.

Who were all very much avoiding my gaze.

"Okay," Layla said, "can we all admit we hate Justin now?"

There was a beat—and then they burst out laughing.

The principal's door slammed open. Justin stormed out, glaring at us. The side of his face was swollen (damn, Gemma had a good right hook).

He turned and hurried down the hallway without a word.

"On a scale of one to ten hundred," Madison whispered, "how much trouble do you think Gemma's in?"

"None."

We flinched. The principal leant against the doorframe, looking mildly exasperated, "You would think that in the 21st century boys would know what sexual harassment is." She sighed, cleaned her glasses against the fabric of her shirt, "Justin has been suspended for two weeks. But if you want to make a formal complaint—"

"No, that's okay," I said quickly, "I think he got the message."

Madison tugged on my arm, "Hey, are you sure?" Her brows crumpled, "What he did wasn't okay, you know?"

I blinked, surprised by how serious they'd all gotten. "Really," I finally said, "I'm fine. I just want to go home."

Principal Holmes nodded, donned her glasses. "In that case, you guys should head out. Ellie—I'll have the guidance counsellor see you next week."

Before I could process what she'd said, she'd disappeared back into her office, and the girls were dragging me down the corridor.

I could barely hear what they were saying as we stepped outside. A breeze whisked my hair back; on it was a scent I couldn't quite place. Before I could puzzle it out, I spotted Chelsea.

She stood by her car, texting—with her 'injured' arm. She caught my gaze and raised her brows, as if to say what? And then turned back towards the locker rooms.

It was only as our car pulled away that I finally identified the scent—citrus.

*

I should have known something was wrong the moment I entered the house. It was way too quiet.

"I'm home!" I paused in the living room entry, "what's going on?"

The air was sombre, everyone sat together. Mom was waving a fan over her flushed face. Dad was pale, fluttering around her.

"Sit down, Elizabeth."

It was as if the floor fell out from beneath my feet. Oh no. I obeyed.

There was a long pulse of quiet.

"Amelia," she said slowly, "hasn't been attending her cheer meetings."

It was like a spark that lit a fuse.

Amelia lurched to standing, "I don't want to be a cheerleader!" Amelia screamed. "I can barely manage the routines—I hate missing my clubs, and I fucking hate the mysoginistic shit we have to put up with." She whipped her head to us, "Aren't you tired of this? Aren't you tired of being cookie cutter perfect all the time? I just want to be happy, to be me. But it's like you don't even hear me when I'm speaking to you—"

Dad stared at her as if staring at a stranger, "Look, Amelia, please, don't yell—"

Amelia threw her arms out, "You're not even listening to me now!" She shook her head, "Fine. I'm done with all of you."

The room was deadly silent, as she stormed out.

Mom made an exasperated gasp, "That girl! Honestly, what is wrong with her?"

And that, friends, was the final straw.

"What's wrong with not wanting to be a cheerleader?" I muttered.

They all stared at me as if I was mad.

But it was too late, my voice rose, though my hands were shaking, "You're all—so—so—controlling. It's like you won't let us be who we want. Like, what if I wanted to do soccer? Why do I have to be exactly the same as you were?" by now my voice was high and reedy, and all the blood had rushed to my head, "Do you even have any idea what its like to not even have an identity? To feel like you're pretending your entire life? I'm too terrified to do anything because I'm scared I'll—" I ran out of air. The room lurched around me.

They were all staring at me as if I was mad.

Take it back.

I blinked the tears out of my eyes and said nothing.

Mom's face was pale, almost blue. "What--?" It happened so, so slowly. A dark, wet stain spread over her skirt. She looked down, as if confused.

And then she collapsed.