Timeless

Chapter Three

     A bruise. A monumental, ugly, menacing, purple bruise. It just rests on my upper leg. Mocking me. Intimidating me. Reminding me of the weaknesses I have not yet overcome.

It appeared on my thigh this afternoon at school. I was in math class, intently working on the textbook problems we had just been assigned by Mrs. Gallagher. I was speeding through the classwork so I would be able to read my science book, The Theory of Everything, before we went over the answers. It's a really interesting one that I checked out from the school library. The book explains concepts of life, the space-time continuum, and other fundamental ideas of the universe. I received a rush of adrenaline each time I completed a page, and I longed for that feeling to return.

As I was combining like terms in the final expression on the page, I heard Emma Perkins' heels clicking as she walked down the aisle. High heels! I don't know who that girl's trying to impress, but you never know with her. She dramatically grabbed a tissue from the box up front and flipped her wavy, strawberry-blonde hair as she blew. As she sashayed back to her seat, I felt a nudge at the corner of my desk, where my copy of The Theory of Everything was sitting. After a bit of wobbling, it tumbled to the floor, the weight of its hardcover pounding against the tan-colored tile. When I looked up, the last I was able to see of Emma was a smirk forming on her sparkly, pink lips.

I almost shrugged it off. I was obviously aware that Emma had done that on purpose, but I've experienced worse. I slowly stood up from my chair and walked up to Mrs. Gallagher's old, wooden desk, where my book had landed. As I crouched down to pick it up, to the point where I could feel the crisp, new pages between my fingertips, I abruptly felt a shove from behind me. I completely lost my balance and went flying into the teachers' desk. My leg hit the solid, impenetrable wood with inexplicable force. I imagined the strands of my skin tearing apart from one another, revealing a gash and streams of ominous blood.

Instead, a shriek escaped from my mouth and a crimson swelling became apparent on the spot of the impact. The pain was almost unbearable. I instantly spun around to see who caused this mess. It was one of Emma's little minions, as I call them. She has three of them, and all they do is follow her around, trying so desperately to reach her prestigious standards. Whenever Emma wears a new top, the minions immediately have to get one just like it for themselves. Pretty monotonous, if you ask me.

The minion pretended that she had to use the bathroom, but no one could possibly be stupid enough to fall for her traps. Except, maybe, Mrs. Gallagher. She had heard my yelp of agony and barely glanced up from her phone, on which she was scrolling through unimportant text messages. Hello! A girl literally just shoved me into your desk! Unbelievable!

"Mrs. Gallagher, may I please use the restroom?" the minion crooned, batting her mascara-covered eyelashes.

The teacher gave a nod of approval and received an unauthentic thank you. As for me, I was still on the floor at this point, examining the area of skin where the torture was present, which was beginning to throb. Mrs. Gallagher didn't even blink an eye! That's when I gradually, although reluctant, stood up, clutching my book against my chest, and sat back down in my chair. And then, the cacophony of laughter emanated throughout the room.

Every single student was laughing at the torment I was going through, just like yesterday in the cafeteria. I intuitively brought my eyes to Justin, where he was stifling a chuckle. When my eyes met mine, elephants squashed any butterflies lingering in my stomach. Even though I probably never even flickered across his mind once, his eyes were incredibly soothing and had a tint of fresh honey dripping from a spoon. They were a true work of art, paint spilled all over a canvas, yet creating a true masterpiece. He quickly looked away and focused on this algebraic equations, like nothing had ever happened between us. Little did he know, it was the little things in life that I cherished the most. However, y bliss quickly diminished, as if it never existed in the first place, once a dose of reality struck me. The laughter was endless. Acidic tears formed in my eyes, and it took excruciating effort to blink them back. My heart felt as if it were made of glass and had just shattered into billions of microscopic pieces. How insecure and depressed must they be to have to make someone else experience embarrassment and misery? How terribly horrific must their own lives be to feel the need to share it with an innocent girl who is just making it by?