The Snitch

(i)

"You are Tyra Pauline Morgan. You can do this." I whispered to myself for the 99th time and pushed open the doors to St. Adrian High. My school, my home, my kingdom and now my place of penance. I looked around and was disappointed to see no one was looking. Man, did no one see the Beyonce entrance?! I mean, if I'm gonna suffer, I might as well look great while doing it.

A few people smiled at me as I walked by. Good. Word hadn't gotten around everywhere. That's gotta give me some time to get some people on my side. "Ayo, Morgan!" I didn't stop or turn around when I flipped Habib off. Why? Well, he was born.

Habib caught up to me and asked "You okay?" "Okay is for peasants. I'm gorgeous, baby" I said without missing a beat. He smiled and tried again "You sure? You know, after.." he lowered his voice and looked around "...everything that happened?" I looked him straight in the eye and said, "Mama didn't raise no little bitch." "Morgan, you cried for 17 hours yesterday."

Caught me there. I took a huge breath and nodded, "I'm not okay. It's a lot to take in. But, I will be." He was kinda relieved. Of course, he didn't care if I was sad. It's just he has to buy the ice-cream and listen to me blow my nose when I cry. Sigh. What would we be without best friends? A whole lot more productive, that's what.

Habib had been the clear choice when I decided to slum it up a bit and make friends other than The Girls. He didn't give a rat's ass about how many trophies I had won or how many instagram followers I had, had mad braiding skills and not to forget, could rap the second verse of Super Bass.   He didn't particularly like The Girls, that had been a problem earlier but, now it'll probably be my saving grace.

He was also the first to know. Outside of my family, of course. He had been sympathetic and in a major shocker had managed to not tell anyone. He didn't judge me like The Girls did. Of course, he didn't have much of an option. Man wears pink velvet pants to Algebra. And after The Girls threw me out, he was the only shoulder to cry on. And that's what I had been doing the past weekend. Crying on his shoulder, his other shoulder, his couch, his cat, everywhere.

We stood at the entrance talking for the next five minutes and decided to get to class as wishful thinking wasn't getting us to Coachella. I got the first signs of hostility when that bleach blonde smiled at me. "Habib!" I tugged at his shirt."That blonde hoe just smiled at me!" "What a bitch.", he said without looking up from his phone."No,you don't get it!" I tugged the phone away"She's scared to be in my line of sight, normally. She CANNOT have the bits to smile at me in that 'oh, you poor thing' way!"  "Well, she technically cannot have have the bits either way.", he reasoned. I smacked the top of his head and continued, "you know what this means right? They know! Everybody knows!" He sighed and said "Tyra, you're overthinking it. Word doesn't spread around this quick. Well, unless The Girls have a ha...-" He stopped after catching sight of something behind me. "Is it them?" I asked. He gulped and nodded.

And there they were, walking in their full Regina George glory.  5 girls in the diamond formation. How could they?! I brought the diamond formation to St. Adrian's! Mildew and Irene took the sides. Mildew was blonde perfection with a genetic boob surgery. Irene; the result of God getting high and putting beauty and smarts in the same person. Irene made a model of a working drone in 7th grade but, was mean as a snake. Mildew was nice. She spoke her mind, participated in all kinds of causes and was generally the bold one. She didn't say a word in my favor though.

Habib gripped my shoulders and whispered,"You're gonna be okay." I nodded. I had to be. They walked towards me.(Without breaking formation, of course) I was prepared for anything. I had my clapbacks ready if they went for a verbal showdown. I was pretty sure it wouldn't get physical but if it did, I was wearing nothing expensive so,joke was on them.  They were getting closer. I looked for a cup of slushie in any of their hands. Closer. Closer. Aaand they passed me by.

They didn't say a word or even spare a glance in my direction. I went numb inside, Now THAT I wasn't prepared for. "Come on, " Habib pushed me "let's get your stuff and get the hell outta here." He pushed me almost all the way to my locker. And that's when feels slapped me in the face.

"Sweet baby Jesus.." He whispered behind me. There was a crowd in front of my locker, taking pictures, talking in excited whispers. And the said locker was glazed in black spray paint. On the sickly yellow locker, angry black letters spelt 'TRAITOR'.

I took a deep breath to steady myself. "You are Tyra Pauline Morgan. You can do this." I said for the 100th time.

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A/N

Yo, didja like it? Didja like it?! I'm kinda insecure about this so any and all suggestions are appreciated! Comment, vote do your thing. Why? It's free and it'll make a tiny brown girl really happy! I also have cookies..

Next update sometime tomorrow, sho.... Tell me what you think!!

-Love Tannaz