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Run in with the School Officials 1 of 1

                I was crushed after I found out about Andrew. And I still had to go to school for a whole month after that. I still had to pretend everything was okay. So I did. The last week of school was very hot. Record temperatures actually. So everyone wore tank tops and shorts. And I was in line for lunch one day, when a couple guys who were behind me started teasing me. And touching me. I won’t tell you their names. What they did was something that most high school guys do to some girl at some point. They rubbed my shoulders and back and called me baby. I asked them to stop. They grabbed my hand and called me sweetheart. I told them to stop. They touched my butt. I moved away as much as I could without leaving the line and told them to stop. Then one of them put his hands under my shirt and grabbed me around the waist, pulling me against him. The other one touched my hair and pulled it away from my face. I was shocked for a moment. And then I started kicking and screaming. I caused quite a scene. It was probably overkill to get so upset. Everyone in the cafeteria started looking at us. The boys were horrified. I was angry and scared. Teachers came over. I explained what had happened. We went to the office. We each went in to the principle to tell our stories. I bet you’re wondering how the boys were punished. Detention? Suspension? Actually, they were told to go to class. They were not punished in the slightest. I, on the other hand, got told off for disregarding dress code and disrupting the peace. I was asked to leave school for the day and has to serve detention after school for the remainder of the year. Now, that was only four days, but still. I was told I had been asking for it by wearing provocative clothing. I’m wearing the same outfit right now actually. And it’s the outfit I’ll be wearing when my dead body is found. So you can judge for yourself if it’s provocative. But if you don’t get to see my body, I’ll tell you what I was wearing. White jean shorts and a baby blue scoop-neck t-shirt with neon pink flip flops. Provocative, right?

                So I went home. And looking back now I’m just really angry at the school. But at the time, I was just disappointed in myself. I had been made fun of everyday, all year, for being a slut. I had been played by Andrew and lost my innocence for him. And now, the school had confirmed what all my classmates had been telling me. I was a slut, and I dressed like one too.

                Now this is turning into a fairly depressing story, isn’t it? Probably because I’m depressed, but I’ve been faking it for years so I should fake it a little longer, I suppose. But I guess this a good time to say I’m not writing down all these sad stories so people feel bad for me. I’m doing it so people know that their actions affect people. This part of the story doesn’t mean a lot. But it’s important to the story non-the-less. It documents the exact moment I stopped fighting my image. And another sixth of me died. That was the day I stopped fighting and just gave up. Unless this is the day I’m giving up. Depends on your definition of giving up, I suppose.