Sorry, Wrong Number

03//I know you're not

Joey

It's only been two days since I last talked to stranger dude. It was a breath of fresh air talking to him. I didn't have to hold back on what I wanted to say he never judged me like everyone has. It's hard enough being one of the only black girl in my school, it's even tougher when I get judged everyday for it.

It was silent as I walked through the secluded hallway, I ditched second period, I simply didn't want to go. So here I am walking around the school trying to pass time. I turned left at one of the hallways corners and that's where I started to hear the mutual footsteps start to follow me. When got to the end of the hall Conner Davis was waiting for me, a blue bucket in his hand. Conner Davis, star football player and the person at the top of my 'hate' list. "Oh Conner what a delight to see you I was just avoiding you." I walked past him and I glanced at what was in the bucket, white paint. "Why the f*ck do you have white paint?" I ask him and he grabs my arm and pushes me back to were I once stood. "You'll see." What the f*ck? "Now!" Then I felt it, the white paint drenching my ever side as they laughed. I looked down at myself to see my clothes ruined by the white substance. Surprising them all I laughed. "Oh look at that, paint." I honestly had no idea what I was saying.

Conner stepped towards me his hand cover in white paint as his crew scattered. He grabbed my face in his hand and pointed his face towards mine. He was holding on tightly to my face not letting go. "Maybe that paint will help you fit in more." He let go of my face and walked away leaving me in the middle of the hallway soaked in paint. Can this day get any worse.

As I make my way towards the girl's restroom I will myself not to cry. I'm okay. I'm okay. I always am. As I enter I take a quick look in the mirror. I had paint covering me from my chest down, I had acouple spaltters of paint in my hair, and I had a white paint on the bottom part of my face from were he gripped my face. The white paint stood out on my dark skin. I place my hand under the faucet and started scrubbing and after my hands were clean I started to wash the paint off my face. The bottom part of ny face was slight red by the time the paint was off. It dried quickly making the task harder. I pulled out my phone and started texting.

Hey do you have any tips on getting paint out of clothing

Why

Well as you see I'm drenched in paint

Again why

Some people take things a bit far

Who the f*ck is messing with you

why do you need to know it's not like you can do anything

I can't do anything but still what happend

These guys from the football team drenched me in white paint and told me maybe the paint will help me fit in better

Why would they say that

You don't get it
I'm black

That still doesn't make it right

Arnt you supposed to be in class right now

Yes but I can't go I'm covered on paint

What school do you got to

Ridgewood High

Okay just wait about twenty minutes

Why

hello

Whatever. I go over to one of the empty stalls and slide down to the floor. I don't need anyone to see me like this. About a proximity twenty minutes later my phone rings signaling a text message in the middle of me playing temple run.

Check the front entrance

Why

Just do it

I walk to the front entrance of the school making sure no one has seen me and see a bag of clothes by the door. What? I pick up the plastic bag and shift through it seeing a grey hoodie and a pair of black joggers all for men. I hold the bag as I wonder around the front entrance of the school trying to catch a glimpse of him but I'm unsuccessful. I make my way back to the restroom still making sure no one saw me and lock myself in the same stall bag in hand.

You brought me clothes

I did

Why

Thats what people who care do

Thank you so much I appreciate it a lot

It's no problem really

Now answer a question for me

Sure

Are you okay

Yep

I know your not

And in that moment I realize that I'm not okay, as much as I try to convince myself, I'm not okay.