Wincing, she pushes open the doors to school. She braces herself for the expected, already plastering a smile to her face. As always, her friends rush towards her, babbling on about their weekend and things that were going to happen. She nods her head, already agreeing to things she’d never heard of before.
“Hey Analise! Don’t forget to leave class at 2:30 for the game today,” Tracy says, walking by her.
Nodding her head again, Analise gets to her locker and starts to pack up her back pack for the next few classes. Before looking up, Analise checks her Band-Aid; it seems to be holding up well.
“Let’s go,” Analise tells her friend Grace before walking down to the media center to hang out before classes start.
*~*~*
“Hey, do you guys smell something? Ew, it’s horse crap again,” Marisa, the school popular wannabe calls out in a loud voice to her posse. A loud roar of laughter pulls Analise’s eyes to the floor as she quickens her steps to move past the jerks.
“Excuse me, but I think you’ve got a bit of a problem,” Rebecca says as she grabs Analise’s arm. Rebecca, with her bleach blond hair and body that shows that she’s never worked in her whole life, swirls her finger in a circle around Analise’s face.
“You have heard of this thing called a shower or, I don’t know, deodorant?” Marisa laughs, pulling Rebecca’s hand away from Analise’s arm. “Don’t touch her, Becca. She could spread the smell onto you.”
Finally free, she shuffles away from the group, keeping her eyes glued to the floor. Pushing open the door, Analise slips behind a trailer out in the frigid air. Huddling in a ball, she clenches her fists in frustration. Tears pound at her eyelids, begging for release. Denying their release, Analise squeezes her eyes closed.
YOU ARE READING
Bully, the Murderer
Short StoryThis is a short story on bullying and what could happen. This is for a friend who's been having troubles lately.
