Chapter Five WEDNESDAY - TUESDAY

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One thing is clear: Everyone heard about the fight yesterday.

All of the kids are glaring at me like I'm some kind of threat. Sixth graders, freshmen, I even see a few sophomores looking at me funny. I try my best to ignore them.

A lot of people are staring at Ella and me, as if expecting us to hold hands or do some other thing that girlfriends do. A few people make kissy faces at us when we walk through the halls. I've heard that rumors spread fast, but this is faster than I imagined.

The worst part of this is my teachers. I used to be their favorite student, but now they pretend that I'm not even there. Even Mrs. Wells stopped calling on me. I wish I had never gotten caught up in that fight. Everyone, besides Ella and Lance, either ignores me or hates me

The best part of this is Ella. I rarely ever talked to her before, but now we catch up between every class and sit together during lunch. I really like spending time with her, even though she is probably just hanging out with me because she has no choice. Before this whole fiasco, Ella was one of the most popular kids in school. She would sit with all of her friends at lunch, barely even noticing me. Once they learned about her being lesbian, however, they started avoiding her. I'm glad she stopped hanging out with those stuck-up idiots. All they care about is maintaining their perfect reputation.

I've never been 'popular', but I still had more than two friends. Now, all I've got is Lance and Ella, which isn't too bad. I can still enjoy school. Barely. But sometimes a little loneliness is nice. It helps me think. And lately, I've had a lot to think about.

The main thing I have been thinking about is why I care so much. Why did I punch that kid after he said that stuff to Ella? She was never one of my close friends, until now. Why did the things he said affect me so much? It's like a switch flipped inside of me as soon as I heard them. They were teasing her because she's gay. I know that saying those things is wrong, but I never would have punched someone about it before. I've never really thought about all of that stuff before. But now it's pretty much all I think about.

I still think about what my mom said to me in the office. Since when did you care about all this 'homosexual rights' stuff? Since when has it even mattered? Why am I still thinking about this, a week after the whole fiasco? I thought we had cleared this stuff up.

A few days later, I sit in the cafeteria, staring at the wall. I'm thinking hard, and I'm completely zoned out. Ella waves her hand in front of my eyes, and I shake my head, coming back to reality.

"What's going on over there?" Ella asks me with a smile.

"Oh! Nothing," I quickly respond, trying to cover up my embarrassment. I can't let her know about all of the things that I have been thinking about. She can't know that I have been pondering my mother's words for weeks now, even though everything was better between us. At least, I thought it was better. But now that I think about it, my mom is more hesitant when I talk to her, and much more distant. She seems to be avoiding me. When I walk in a room, she'll immediately stop talking and make it look like she's busy. She hasn't been taking me to school that much anymore. She never sits next to me at dinner. Something is definitely wrong.

I look over at Lance, expecting him to be staring at me like Ella is, but he's completely engulfed in his meal. I'm glad he wasn't affected by the whole 'incident'. I would hate to have dragged Lance into this as well.

Ella gives me a puzzled look, clearly not believing me, and then continues to poke at her food. "Are tacos always this bad?" she asks with a slight smile.

Lance gasps and pretends to be completely taken aback by her comment. I try not to laugh.

"What did you say?" Lance asks Ella with an overly dramatic voice. "Taco Tuesdays are the best thing that ever happened to this school!" Ella and I burst out laughing. When I stop, I look over at Ella and realize how much I love her smile. It's like seeing a window into the deepest parts of Ella, just for a moment. Before I can think further on the subject, I push the thought from my head.

***

When I get to the history classroom that day, I notice the lesson written on the board. In Mrs. Wells' messy handwriting, "The Ozone Layer" is written at the top of the board. I smile, knowing that it will once again be an interesting lesson.

"Good afternoon class," Mrs. Wells says in a bored voice. There are a few mumbles of
"Good afternoon Mrs. Wells," but most people are silent, including me. I stare at the board, actually excited for a lesson for once. After last Tuesday's lesson, I've been eager to learn more about our new society. I find learning about how much we've advanced very interesting. It makes me feel like I'm living in some sort of futuristic society.

Mrs. Wells points to the board with a black marker. "As you can see, we are going to be continuing the topic from last Tuesday. This time, we will be learning more about the ozone layer." I'm slightly confused, since we have rarely learned about this topic. The only reason that Lance knows so much about it is because his parents work on the bubbles that surround our city. They have to know a lot about the ozone layer, since that's what the bubbles are based off of.

I feel pretty excited about the lesson until I remember that there is an extremely small chance that Mrs. Wells will call on me, or even give me any notice. Every single teacher in this school has been avoiding me ever since last Tuesday. It's funny how one experience can change your whole life. My friends, my teachers, and even my mom ignores me. I try to forget this as I listen in to the lesson.

"Now," she begins, "Can anyone tell me what year the bubbles began their construction?"

Lance and I both raise our hands, as well as one other girl who's name I keep forgetting. Just as I expected, Mrs. Wells looks around the room and completely avoids my eyes. She doesn't even acknowledge my presence. I'm lucky I don't take role in this class, or else she would probably skip over my name.

"Lancelot?" Once again, Mrs. Wells uses his full name. He's less embarrassed this time, as he's almost gotten used to her calling him that.

"Uh..." I can tell that he wasn't entirely prepared. "3014?" he says with a questioning tone.

"Very close." Mrs. Wells says. She looks around, and the other girl puts down her hand. She probably had the same answer as Lance. Now, I am the only one raising my hand.

Mrs. Wells sighs as if this is an extremely annoying and hard task. She bites hard on her lip, and then speaks. "Samantha?" she says with an exasperated tone. I can almost see her clenching her teeth.

"3017" I say, with confidence in my voice. I know that I am correct, but I can tell Mrs. Wells doesn't want to admit it.

"Good-" she begins, but before she can finish, I hear a rather loud whisper next to me.

"Fag," the jerky kid sitting next to me says. Although she ignores it, I can tell that Mrs. Wells heard her.

"What did you call me?" I ask, a little loudly. I can feel the anger bubbling in my stomach.

"I called you what you are, a homo and a fag." I clench my fists, and I can hear whispers around me. I can't get into another fight. I could get expelled. I'm surprised I only got away with a few detentions last time.

"Shut up," I mumble. She's smiling smugly, like calling me those things were her greatest achievement. I want to retaliate so badly. But I can't. I can hear Lance whispering things, but they seem sort of distant. I wish Ella was here, but she sits all the way across the room. She would be brave enough to stop this girl. I have to resist. I can't get in another fight.

Mrs. Wells keeps talking, and I use that as a distraction. I take deep breaths, but it doesn't help that the girl is looking at me and giggling.

"C'mon, punch me," she whispers. Her friends behind her laugh quietly, and I clench my teeth and look over at her. I try to think of something to say, but there are so many thoughts in my head, that I can barely focus on one thing. I have to look away. The bell rings, and I grab my bag and run out of the room, tears forming in my eyes.   

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