Of Blackgaurds and Mercenaries

Hypothesis 1.1

March 31 2011

The last class of the day had finished five minutes ago and all I could think was I need to get home.

My shoe made a wet squeak as I stopped in the middle of the hallway. Up ahead, through the mass of students opening their lockers and talking in little groups, I spotted a flash of red hair. One of the students walking by hit my shoulder and spun me around, not caring that I was in his way. I mumbled an apology that he ignored then slipped into the nearby bathroom.

I stared around the bathroom like a ganger that just heard a siren, my reflection in the cracked mirror looking back with wide, nervous eyes. A girl I vaguely recognized from my Mr. Gladly's class was applying makeup above one sink when she looked up and saw me. Our eyes met, and for a second my nerves grew taut, then she went back to smearing another layer of purple lipstick on.

I scurried to the farthest stall and closed the door, trying to keep my eyes to the ground and disappear in the background. If I waited long enough, the trio would go on their way and I could get home hassle free.

Emma was looking for me. Ever since the incident with the locker a few weeks ago, she'd toned down her campaign of constant harassment. Not a cessation, but a calm spell. I knew it would start over again. Last time, before Christmas break, the terrible trio had slowed down too. They left me alone for a while. I thought I was safe. I was so wrong. Now I couldn't afford to let my guard down.

In my mind my new passengers moved about. Some demanded that I fight back. Others growled about the injustice of it. Yet others didn't care. The worse, were those that hinted at all the vile things I could do to my bullies, which nerves to pinch and where to apply pressure to break fingers and bones.

I placed both hands over my ears and tried to keep the voices out. I need to get home. I thought again.

I can help you, some of the voices said, eager to please, or eager to get out. But I didn't know what out meant.

"Oh yeah, she's in there," I heard someone say from outside my stall. I recognized the voice, the girl that had been preening herself at the mirror. Had she betrayed me? I couldn't blame her, I might've done the same in her place. Anything to not be the target of Emma and her cronies.

I pulled my backpack around, hugging it to my chest as I sat on the lowered toilet seat. Please don't notice me. I begged. The voices roared in indignation. MY heart dropped when I heard the door to the bathroom open.

"That little bitch? Please, this shithole is above her. Winslow's way too classy for a bitch like that." It was Emma. She was here.

I clenched my eyes shut as someone else joined in. "But, where would they send her?" Madison's 'cute' voice called out. She wasn't as subtle as Emma, playing up the role of the innocent, sweet girl who could do no harm. I could tell she wanted me to hear, wanted anyone else in the bathroom to hear. "I guess they could just leave her in a dumpster or something."

"Hrmm," a third voice grunted in amused agreement. Sophia Hess. The trio was all here. I lifted myself up a little, trying to peek above the stall's wall. I saw Sophia's dark hair moving as she walked along the stalls. Being the tallest of the trio, she was the easiest to see from my vantage so it came as a surprise when something banged on the door to my stall while she was still half a dozen feet away.

I looked down in time to see a pair of stocking-covered legs over pink sneakers, one foot pulled back before the door shook with Madison's feeble kick. "Is anyone there?" she asked sweetly.