Chapter 1
The bell rang five minutes early on Monday morning. It was the fifth week of school and I'm already walking into science class unprepared for a test. "Did you study? Can I see your study guide? What is the test about?" the students conversated around the room. I sat at my table quiet as usual. "Whats your name?" asked a boy at my table. I threw an evil glare at him just for talking to me. "I'm Maya." I mumbled. "Why are you so quiet?" he laughed. "I know right! And she looks like she wants to kill someone everyday!" Another boy joined in. I put my head down. "Maya here wasn't quiet last year." our teacher Ms. Exley smiled as she placed test papers infront of us. "I dont matter to anyone." I mumbled. "If you take up space, then you matter!" said Ms. Exley making a science joke. "Some people are a waste of space." I replied mimicking her voice.
Last year in ninth grade, I was talkitive and joyful. I was only pretending to be that way. Being quiet and awkward was causing me to get bullied everyday in the past. This year, I no longer feel like pretending to be someone I'm not. I'm natrually a sad person. My face sometimes keeps a sad or angry looking expression. Otherwise, my face is just expressionless. My mother and father said I lack enthusiasm and I'm emotionless. It's true....but I don't care. They signed me up for counseling as if it will help me.
It was painful to pretend to be happy. I remember having to jump up and down for things I don't even care about. There were things my friends would talk about and I pretended to listen. I pretended that I cared and understood what they were talking about, even though I didn't know what they're saying half the time. I would nod my head and try to laugh as real as I could. I would tell them some of the stupid things that happened to me in my life so it would look like i was listening. "Am I an evil bitch?" I always ask myself.
I turned in my test knowing that I failed. I kept my head down until everyone finished. After 20 minutes, we were told to work in our textbooks. I drew a picture instead. "Maya! Stop drawing and do your work!" shouted Ms. Exley from behind me. I slapped my pencil on my desk slammed the book open. "Don't get an attitude with me!" Ms. Exley snapped. I wanted to yell but, I held in my anger. "Thats a cool drawing." said a girl next to me. I thanked her because she was new to the school.The boy that annoyed me earlier commented on my picture. "Is that some kind of teddy bear with octopus legs or some shit like that?" he smiled. I stared at him annoyed just for speaking. "Ok...." he scratched his head and went back to work.
I went to my next class, home room, when the bell rang. I sat far away from everyone so no one would talk to me. I watched everyone happily talk to one another while I listened to music in a corner. Three guys approached me. Two are gangsters and the other was desperate to be one. "Hey little mama!" called one of them. I tried to ignore him. "Hey!...ummm...whats your name?....oh yea its Maya! Hey Maya!" the wanna be called. "Don't talk to me!" I snapped. The boys laughed. I dug into my bookbag and clutched a pair of scissors in case they touched me. "Mayaaaaaa!" they countinued to call my name. They started to pick on me about my size and body. I am very thin, 5'8 with long legs, tiny hips, small lips, small thighs, and not much of a chest. I've been scuicidal about it since second grade. I have always planned to kill myself on Janurary 17th at age 15. Im 15 now and its September. I have four months to live if I continue with this plan that I came up with since 3rd grade.
"Yall stop picking on her. Please?" said Mr. Ewing with his lazy-like voice. I held in my anger, packed up all my stuff, and walked into the hallway to sit down.
On the dirty floor, I listened to loud sad music and held in my tears. "I will show them who is boss one day!," I growled as i angrily twiddled with my scissors. Thoughts of harming and killing people and friends flashed through my mind. I twiddled the blades of the scissors faster when I imagined stabbing one of the guys to death in front of the class.
The students started emptying out into the hallway. The bell rung and I didn't hear it. As soon as I gripped onto my book bag, I let go of it. A bit of pain ran to my fingers. I didn't realized that couple of fingers had been cut. I drew a cross with a bloody finger on the back of my hand.
