Deliquescent

1. Marise

I was always as far to the back of the classroom as possible, preferably next to a window or wall. Nobody ever sat beside me. After years of bullying in primary school for no apparent reason, I'd (almost) succeeded in being invisible in middle school.

I dropped my hair in front of my face again after checking the blackboard and continued my work. Latin, a subject I wasn't very good at, nor very bad. Like all subjects, really. If you get average grades, you stand out less. In primary school I was at the top of the class, only getting A's. My classmates paid me a lot of attention because of that, and no pleasant attention at that. I didn't even have to try. Then, I wore colorful clothes, more childish than that of the other children. That didn't help either.

I could hear them whispering about me again, the girls on the other side of the classroom. They got my attention because I heard my name. My hearing got sharper whenever I heard my name, like a radio being adjusted. I listened better, without lifting my head. The usual.

'What could she be hiding beneath those hideous clothes?' one said, followed by options of the others.

Humph. Hideous clothes? I was wearing a dark gray T-shirt with a black hoodie, black jeans and black sneakers! What in heaven's name was wrong with that?

I stopped listening. It wasn't worth it.

I wrote down the last sentence of my translation and quietly zipped open my backpack, retracting my book. I always had a book with me. In books I could escape reality, be someone else with other, unreal, problems.

I opened my book beneath my table and started reading, shutting the world out. It seemed as though no time had passed until the bell rang and everyone started packing my bags. I let my book slip into my bag again, which almost didn't fit. I thought about the fact that I would be able to buy an e-reader soon.

When I looked up again, I was alone in the classroom, save for the teacher standing at the door, looking at me expectantly. I hastily squeezed my stuff into my bag and walked towards the door.

'Good day, sir.'

'Good day to you too, Marise.' He was one of the few teachers that cared to remember my name, and this small interaction dented the loneliness that was eating me up from the inside.

I walked towards my locker. When I turned the corner, I saw a few girls standing to one side, giggling and glancing in my direction. I immediately knew that they'd done something and were just waiting for my reaction. I didn't pay them any attention and turned around towards my locker.

There you'll have it. They'd written all kinds of unoriginal cuss words on my locker door. The usual.

I tried to keep a straight face when I opened my locker and started to sort out my books, but I was already choked up with tears of anger. They kept doing this kind of stuff.  Last week they'd spread the contents of my gym bag through the changing room.  They were just waiting for me to explode.

Up until now I'd managed not to react, but I had no idea how long I could keep it up. I saw one of the girls looking at my arm and realized that my sleeve had revealed a bruise. I quickly pulled my sleeve down again. The bruise already was a few days old, but it was still clearly visible.

Ignore them. Ignore them.

I closed my locker and sighed quietly. Seemed that I would have to beat myself through this day again.

Dad, don't panic. I undergo none of the things mentioned in the description or in the book, nor have I endured them. I just wanted to try a different kind of story.