Unsung

Chapter Twenty-Two

I turned my head and began to scan the rest of the hallway, watching people pass in front of me in groups and alone. When I was younger, I used to love hanging around public places and observing people's comings and goings. I'd imagine who they might be and make up backgrounds and personalities for each. One might be a spy on a holiday with his wife, who knew nothing of his secret life. Another, a compulsive gambler who was on the run from the guys he owed money to. Teenage girls became high schoolers who were lusting after their barely older hot teachers. And certain guys would clearly be in love with me, because it was my imagination after all.

But looking around the hallway now didn't give me as much pleasure. People-watching wasn't as much fun when you actually knew the objects of your focus.

But old habits die hard, and I allowed my attention to turn to the Glam Squad, who was currently taking up their regular spot in the corner where a pseudo lounge had been set up for Reginald students. Only, since the group had immediately commandeered the section for themselves, none of the rest of the student body got to enjoy it.

I watched them primp and preen and whisper and giggle to each other, and then tried to imagine who they really were deep down, what they might actually be thinking when they were in the safety of their own minds.

Genevieve, the self-appointed Queen of the Damned, stood in the middle, pulling at a strand of hair and chomping on her gum voraciously. Her face was calm, a slightly blank look decorating it, and though she appeared to be listening to her friends' chatter, she also seemed distracted.

I tried to imagine what was going on in her head.

I wonder if the GOP will ever realize that their advisors actually hate the republican party?

Uh, not likely.

If raspberries are red, then where do blue raspberry Slurpees come from?

More likely.

When I get old and gravity starts to sink in, will I actually have to contribute to society in some way other than just looking good and being awesome? Nah. I'll just marry a rich, old dude when I'm still young and call it a day.

Most likely.

Do you think anyone knows how self-conscious, depressed and disconnected I feel? Do any of my friends actually like me or are they just waiting patiently until my luck runs out and I mess this whole thing up? Can they tell I'm really just a big, fat phony?

I wish.

Just when I was about to come up with another scenario for good, old Genevieve, a girl walked by with a stack of books in her hands. She was small for her age; just barely five feet. She wore glasses and was fidgeting with her skirt, which kept sticking to her brown tights. I'd seen her around, though admittedly, didn't know her name.

Genevieve's attention went from scattered to scarily focused and I watched as she zeroed in on the girl with the books, examining her as she walked closer and closer to where she and her friends were standing. Almost imperceptibly, Genevieve took one step, and then another, until she was standing on the outside of her circle, just barely in the path of book girl.

It was like witnessing a predator stalking its prey, and it made me sick to my stomach to watch. Still, I couldn't get myself to look away.

Book girl was just passing the group when Genevieve reached out and tipped the stack out of her hands. They landed with a loud thud on the floor, a few fluttering open and landing page down at her feet.

"Ex-cuse me!" Genevieve screeched at book girl as if she'd done it on purpose or had offended her in some way.

Book girl looked up at Genevieve in shock, and then blanched. She started to open her mouth to say something but nothing came out.

"What?" Genevieve taunted her. "Do you want something?"

The girl shook her head quickly and then scrambled to pick up the texts she'd "dropped." She almost had them all, but just as she was reaching for the last one, Genevieve kicked it out of her way and laughed as it slid across the linoleum. Book girl closed her eyes briefly and then chased after it.

I thought it was over then, that book girl would leave embarrassed yet relatively unscathed and everything would go back to normal, but Genevieve wasn't finished.

"Stupid slut. You should do us all a favor and just go kill yourself."

Genevieve said it quietly, but there was no mistaking the words or their intended target. And she did it with a cruel smile on her face.

The girl froze in place as she heard Genevieve's suggestion and I gasped. But I wasn't the only one who'd witnessed the interaction.

Everyone had. Except for maybe Fergus, but that was only because he was fully transfixed with his game and pretty much nothing could break his concentration when he was in that mode.

But the rest of us had heard it loud and clear.

And soon enough, the giggles began. They started within Genevieve's entourage, but then a few guys around the hall chuckled too. Then came the whispers and the pointing, and it was all just so...bad. Like a nightmare you can't wake up from.

Why didn't anyone seem upset by what they were seeing? My own nerves were on edge and I could feel the anxiety building in me just from having watched the confrontation. Why wasn't anyone saying anything to Genevieve? Sticking up for the girl? Where were book girl's friends?

I saw book girl's cheeks start to burn red with embarrassment before she snatched up the last book and ran in the other direction.

Then everything faded back into normal hallway chatter, and before long, it was as if nothing had happened.

But it had.

I jerked my head in Genevieve's direction angrily, and was surprised to see her staring back at me. She raised an eyebrow as if to say, "Go ahead, say something. I dare you to," but after a second, I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and turned away.

It was not a good idea to have Genevieve as an enemy.

Case in point.

Frustrated, and with my heart still pounding, I turned my attention back to Charles, who was sifting through the junk in his locker absently.

"You sure hero training is a good idea?" Charles asked, bringing us back to our previous conversation. "Do you really think you'll learn anything there?"

I glanced over in the direction of where book girl had disappeared, and then at Genevieve who'd gone back to staring off into the air listlessly.

"I hope so," I said and willed myself to head toclass.