You're My Sol

Chapter 2

Marisol grabbed my hand so we didn't get lost in the crowd. A blush creeped up to my cheeks, and I didn't know why. We wove through the crowd, dodging boys with giant stacks of fries and girls carefully balancing salad bowls.

She steered me toward a table and with one quick glance, my face fell. There was a group of girls staring back at me. I wasn't normally shy in front of new people, but these weren't just any new people.

They were my old best friends.

Marisol looked from them to me, back to them again. "So, are you gonna sit down?" She asked me.

The girls just stared at me. I could feel the judgement rippling through the air. There was Jessica, Ashlynn, Sarah, and Kate. They hated me. I knew it. They probably were going to tell Marisol how terrible I was and how much they hated me. 

Marisol raised an eyebrow at me. "Penny?"

"Penelope," I snapped.

One of the girls whistled. The rest just stared. I could tell what they were thinking. They thought I was a stuck up bitch. I couldn't do it. I couldn't sit with them!

I turned around and ran out of the cafeteria.

All I could hear was my knockoff sneakers pounding against the sticky cafeteria floor. My eyes swam, but I tried to keep it in. I knocked into a boy, sending his burger flying.

"Seriously?!" He shouted, but I couldn't stop to apologise. I ran out of the cafeteria, around the stragglers in the hallway, and into the girls bathroom.

I quickly glanced under the stalls to make sure I was alone, then hopped into one. I balanced on the toilet, my bag under my knees. It was okay, I didn't have to hide it anymore. I was alone. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Ever since I was ostracized from the group...

I wiped away my tears. No. There was no use thinking about that. It was in the past. All I could do was focus on the present.

It was silent but for the dripping of a broken faucet that never seemed to turn all the way off no matter how hard you tried.

I was so alone.

I stared down at the tiles until they blurred together. It was okay, I'd been skipping out on the lunch room for two years. I didn't need to go in the cafeteria, I could just eat in the bathroom, or in an empty classroom, like always. I was stupid to think today would be any different.

The door to the bathroom creaked open and two girls walked in. They were pretty--both blonde. I could see through the crack in the stall door as they fixed their makeup in the mirror.

Pretty blonde girl # 1 said, while putting on another layer of mascara, "Did you see that girl run out of the cafeteria? What was up with that?"

My heart dropped. People noticed. People were talking about me. That was never good.

"Oh, Penelope? Yeah, I went to middle school with her. There was some drama in eighth grade. I guess some of it came back to bite her in the ass today," pretty blonde girl # 2 said. She was staring intently into the mirror.

Pretty blonde girl # 1 started fixing her hair, pulling it up into a ponytail and arranging it just so. "I mean, wasn't that like... two years ago? Shouldn't everyone be over it by now?"

Pretty blonde girl # 2 just laughed. "I don't really pay attention to gossip, but I mean... everyone's noticed she doesn't have any friends anymore. That's not a secret. And I guess it's because of what happened back then."

"I heard she's a bitch. Not that I'd know her, I've never had any classes with her."

The other girl rolled her eyes. "Lucky."

They traded stories for a couple more minutes before deciding they were done fixing up their appearance and had to go.

I could barely hold in my tears the entire time they were talking. I was a crybaby--so what? It hurt. I always had to keep this unbothered image, but every rumor, every glance, every snide comment--it cut deep.

The door creaked open again. I really hoped it wasn't those girls coming back again because they realized I was listening.

A soft knock came from the opposite side of the stall door. "Penny?" It was Marisol.

"Penelope," I corrected.

She ignored me. "Can you open up?"

I slid the latch across the door and pushed it open. There I was, exposed to Marisol. She could see the bright red splotches on my face and my runny nose.

We stared at each other for a minute, neither of us really knowing what to say.

"So... what happened in there?" Marisol asked.

I didn't know how to respond. I opened my mouth, then closed it, at a loss for words.

Marisol gave me a tight-lipped smile. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine."

"No, no, it's just... they used to be my friends."

Marisol nodded, like she already knew. How close was she with my old friends? What had they told her about me? Or did they not think about me at all?

"And we... got into a fight, I guess? At the end of eighth grade. It was a pretty big deal, and I ended up leaving the group. General differences, I guess. I don't know how to explain it. But yeah, I haven't been friends with them since. It's kinda awkward." For some reason I just kept talking. It was like the words were spilling out of me like there was finally some place for them to go.

"So what about your other friends?" Marisol asked.

I paused. "Huh?"

"Your other friends?" Marisol said again, slowly this time.

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking down at my sleeves.

"You know, the friends you've been hanging out with after you split off from your old friends?" Marisol said. My eyes snapped up to her.

I didn't have any "other friends."

My face said it all, because she pulled me in for a hug. It was really nice. She smelled like lavender. She was so pretty and nice and perfect...

I pushed her away.

"I don't need your pity," I snarled. This suddent burst of anger came out of nowhere, but it was justified. Why did she think she was so perfect? Why did she get to look down on me? What, she was cool because she had friends? So what if I was lonely, so what?

"No, I didn't mean to pity you... I--"

"Save it. I won't sit with them. And I don't want to be friends with you."

I stood up, put on my backpack, and walked out of the bathroom, leaving her standing there with a stunned look on her face.

Serves her right.

Bitch.