A little love goes a long way

3

School, in general, was a bore for Sophie, especially after that day. She found that walls brought her more joy than the teacher's ramblings of fractions, or the gossiping whispers about bands, or boys - whispers she was never really a part of.

It was safe to say that in her year, people didn't dislike her, but they didn't like her either, they seemed to have the impression she was snobby, that Sophie thought herself above the pupils she shared her lessons with - she didn't - but they didn't know why she ignored them so often, why she wouldn't laugh at their jokes, or ask to be in their group, and why she rejected them when they reached out to her. They didn't dislike her, they were just hurt, it never stopped them from speculating either way.

Maybe she was a spy, trained like Black Widow, or a new Bond. Some disagreed wholeheartedly and claimed she had no heart and was a robot manufactured by bored adults, those who knew Sophie before just shook their heads sadly and walked on, away and away from the words, each with their own speculations; all ending in Sophie just realising how boring they were. None of it was true, though they would never know that.

It all changed when Olive transferred to their school, she seemed nice. Curly brown hair, round cherub face and chocolate eyes framed by the thickest lashes, designer backpack and a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, she gave the impression of a badger, harmless to look at, but bubbling under the surface lay white-hot fury and a temper easily raised.

Her first day, and who does she choose to sit next to for dinner - Sophie. The collective gasp, can you imagine it. She waved and talked, and talked, and talked even more. If Sophie did talk to people, she wouldn't have gotten a word in edge-ways against Olive - a weird name she thought, but held her tongue. Olive seemed to both enjoy and hate Sophie's silence. She didn't compliment her, but she listened to her rambling - at least she thought she was listening - in reality, she was in another world, Neverland, as in her English class they had recently read Peter Pan. She envisioned the towering mountains with their gentle green slopes, crystal clear oceans with consistent waves lapping against silky golden shores, and emerald green forests taking up the remainder of the island. Envisioning herself flying by Pan's side was easy until reality learned to fly too.

Apparently Olive was very upset about Sophie's lack of a response to something she had said - a question maybe? Either way, the harsh stabbing motions into her mashed potato gave Sophie a very unsettling feeling as she scurried away, telling Olive not to get involved with her. It wouldn't do either of them any good.

Every day passed like this, without fail dinner would arrive, Sophie would take the table in the back right corner, next to the meeting of the windows, then Olive would take a seat next to her, chat endlessly and wouldn't expect, nor would she receive a response from Sophie, and honestly...

It was nice.

The knot of unease in Sophie's stomach started to unfurl, she started to smile a bit more, albeit only a minuscule twitch at the corners of her lips, but it was a start.

In classes, teachers never really chose Sophie to speak, whether asking her a question or asking her to read the extract, and in return, Sophie didn't raise her hand to answer a question or ask one, or volunteer. There was only the mutual, unspoken, agreement to not interact, and yet with the arrival of Olive, came the arrival of hope, and a spark of courage.

French. That was the first lesson she raised her hand for. Their teacher, Mr Thule, was shocked and dropped his chalk as you would see in a movie, he was a very dramatic man, who didn't hold his views back even when he probably should have, but this wasn't about Mr Thule.

Changes were slow but consistent. If Sophie knew an answer in class, she would half raise her arm, having it bent at the elbow, hand by her face and eyes downcast, this still didn't mean the people in her class wanted to initiate friendly relations with her or interact with her as of yet, but they felt it too. The hope.

Sophie and Olive's friendship grew little by little every day. They would talk at dinner, morning break and afternoon break; Olive would write her 'yes or no' notes in class, so Sophie could nod or shake her head dependant on the answer.

On many occasions, Olive offered to host a sleepover, Sophie always declined, she was breaking more than enough rules just talking to Olive, if her Mother caught wind of their friendship, the punishments would be more severe, more wicked and hopelessly cruel than before. Olive persisted though, and when Sophie kept saying no, she started asking if she could sleep over at her house, it was a no once more, she regurgitated her old lies to push people away, Olive was getting too close, too comfortable, too fast. Sophie tried putting distance between them again but it just wouldn't work.

Olive had dropped the subject and didn't bring it up again until Sophie's twelfth birthday - when she practically forced her birthday information out of her - when she insisted that she host a birthday sleepover. The idea of Sophie's birthday still haunted her, how could it not, and yet she hadn't told a soul.

Over the course of three years, especially during the transition of Primary school to High school, Sophie had changed, yet she hadn't. She spoke more, yet there was hardly any emotion, she read more and stored all the information she could. She had started making new friends, or rebuilding bridges that were once burned between old ones. A newfound confidence grew in her, and even with all the good that confidence could bring, there were the repercussions. Namely, her Mother.

Sophie's mother picked up on the change in her daughter. How she slowed considerably when she was called for - it apparently deserved a punishment - how she started asking questions or disobeying orders - that called for worse punishment. Even worse, she had found out about Sophie's friends. It seemed that Olive had gotten her parents to contact Sophie's parents to organise a sleepover, against all of Sophie's protests and against her pleas.

Olive was, unknowingly, the cause of Sophie's three-week absence, and when she returned, well... it was as if she had reverted to who she was before Olive arrived, and Olive did nothing to make it better.

Olive was pissed at Sophie for the longest time because Sophie didn't contact her during her absence - bear in mind she has never contacted Olive outside of school - and continued to remain stubbornly pissed, never once asking Sophie what happened. One day, it stopped. Mark Carlton had asked Olive to date him, of course - he was the most popular person in the year - she said yes, it was a very public relationship, from the asking to hanging around, lots of safe, public displays of affection. Sophie didn't like it, as he and his friends, and with them, their girlfriends, had invaded her table for lunch, so Sophie started skipping. Olive, with the popularity getting to her head, took this as a sign that Sophie was just an arrogant bitch who hates everyone. What made it worse though, was that when she stormed out on the first day, before skipping lunch in general, Mark followed her.

Olive. Was. Pissed.

She instantly thought that Sophie was trying to take Mark away from her, being selfish. Sophie didn't want him following her, she didn't want the consequences of mingling with others again, no matter how kind they could be. Sophie had heard more about Mark than he probably had heard, with her low presence, she could just be ignored or forgotten without doing anything, meaning, she heard almost everything.

Mark had a reputation for dating, using, dumping. Though Olive was a bit uptight - the nicest way to phrase it - she was still one of the closest things she had to a friend that wasn't Jake. Well... she was...

The next week, Monday, the air was icy, though it was summer and the weather was warm, it was the attitudes of those that surrounded Sophie that made the air cold. A group of people not yet bullies; but soon to be, surrounding her, pushing her, laughing and taunting her, Olive and Mark being the ringleaders. All Olive could say - with a sneer - was that Sophie kept trying to take Mark away from her, which wasn't true but she didn't care. She'd changed.

Thanks to Olive and her group of 'friends', Sophie's life was horrible at home, and her reputation at school had fallen from neutral to less than the average.