Broken

Pieces.

It was then in the following weeks when we had to anonymously choose someone in the eighth grade to speak at our annual anti bullying assembly. The most popular people always get chosen, and they always talk about how bullying “isn’t very nice”. Those exact words are basically all they say. This year was different though. It was a Wednesday morning, during second period, when they announced who will be talking at the assembly the next Friday. The top three nominees were no surprise to anyone, yet the person who won was a surprise to us all. It was between Emma, Jessica, and myself.

“Please congratulate our nominee for this years anti bullying assembly…” The Principal's voice echoed through the classrooms and hallways.

“Emma Smith,” the boy in front of me whispered. Basically, he was correct in a way. The most popular person in the eighth grade always wins, and that just so happens to be Emma.

“Kylee Young!” The Principal finally said.

Clapping filled the classroom while I sat frozen. “I can’t do this! I won’t be able to tell them why you can’t stab people with your words without revealing my scars…” My thoughts stirred in my head.

 

“Congratulations Kylee!” Everyone said to me for the rest of the day in the hallways.

“Thanks,” I answered with a fake smile.

The bell finally rang and we all rushed to our lockers, grabbed our stuff, then headed home. I slung my backpack onto my back, and started walking home when I heard a voice yell my name.

“Good job Kylee,” his words were rushed. He was the boy who sat in front of me in second period. I have no idea what his name is.

“Thanks…” I tried to remember what his name was. Ben? No. Drake? No. Jacob? No.

“...Liam,” he read my mind.

“Liam,” I repeat.

“So, what are you gonna talk about during the assembly? Please don’t say ‘bullying is mean’ and have that be the deepest part of your speech,” Liam joked.

“I’m not sure yet, I thought Emma was going to win,” I explained.

“Yeah, well, good luck Kylee. This is my neighborhood. See ya tomorrow,” Liam smiled at me as he pointed to his right.

“See ya tomorrow,” I said, although he’s already gone.

For the rest of the mile walk home, this stupid assembly wouldn’t leave my thoughts alone. What am I supposed to talk about? How do I convince people the my words aren’t some sick joke? I only had a week and two days to figure it out and figuring it out, wasn’t going to be easy.

 

That Saturday was off my usual Saturday routine. First of all, I woke up way too early (10:00 is too early for anyone to wake up), and second of all, my every thought was on the silly speech I had to write. If I say the wrong words, people will laugh and mock me. Why didn’t Emma win? She’d know what to say. If she said something wrong, everyone would still love her words. People will laugh in my face if I say the wrong things and Emma and Jessica will leave me if they know what’s really going on inside my head. Everyone wants them. Everyone wishes they could be them. People call us “Barbies” because they say we’re “perfect”. By the time noon had arrived, I had found an unused journal and started writing down countless thoughts, even if they didn’t make any sense. If everyone hates my speech, then that sucks for me.

You know those hourglass  timers, and how when you watch them, it feels like time is taking forever, and due to the sand leaving the top so slowly, you just give up and assume that the sand will never, ever, be all the way out of the top half? Well, that was my week. Anxiously waiting for Friday to come was like waiting for the sand to be in the bottom half of the timer. Even though Monday went by as if it were 100,000 hours, I couldn’t give up. By the time Friday had come around, I was sure I had aged so much that I was already in my late 40’s. Every day the anxiety had built up, and today was just horrible. By the time the assembly started, I was sure I was going to puke.