(I Just) Died In Your Arms ~ Stanley Uris

021

Julia's POV

Do you know the sickening, unbearable feeling of uncertainty you feel when you realize you had made a mistake, unknowing what consequences you could face?

School started without a hitch, teenagers bustling in the hallways, the constant chatter filling my ears. I was already perceived as a peculiarity, rumors constantly buzzing around me like I was a walking time bomb, just waiting to detonate. Most of the talk was about my anomalous friendship with the other losers that lived amongst them, or how I finally started to speak in front of them, some of them haven't heard my voice in years. But today, more eyes were on me than usual, a whole group of girls stopping and giving me a side eye, whispering things amongst themselves. I was used to it, but it has never been this bad before.

I just assumed I was imagining things, walking up to my metal locker and dialing my number into my old metal lock. The gears grinding as I moved to each number, taking much longer than I expected.

Something slammed the locker next to me, making me jump in surprise and forgetting my place in my combination. I closed the door to see who it was, nearly expecting it to be the Trashmouth, but instead Greta Bowie's face was there, staring directly back at me. I could smell the mint gum on her breath, the lipgloss which was freshly applied to her naturally pink lips was smeared slightly. She looked furious, bright red with anger. This must be about the time I rammed the full weight of my body into her, slamming her into the floor. I felt no remorse.

"What do you want now?" I hissed, turning back to my locker and restarting the combination, not giving her as much attention as she wanted.

"You know what, you little bitch!" Greta screamed inches away from my face, salvia splattering onto me, even when I was minding my own business, grabbing notebooks from my locker. "You really expect to pull a stunt like that and get away with it?"

"Yeah, it's not like you did that to me for years and got away with it." I shot back, catching the ears of a few bystanders beside me, their bodies leaning in slightly to watch the scene unfold between us. "I'm not going to handle it anymore. Just leave me alone, Greta!"

"No!" She shrieked, her hands balled up into fists, itching to nail me in the face if there weren't teachers near by. "You're such a bitch, you flamer whore!"

I didn't know what I was thinking, but hearing her utter such a religiously aimed slur against Stan made my blood boil, all my common sense supposedly thrown out the window. I suddenly turned her direction, my right hand slapping her so hard that she stumbled backwards, leaving me in disbelief on what I just done.

"Oh, you're going to hell!" Greta shouted back, flustered as the whole hallway was looking at us, and couple kids poking their heads from behind their lockers. I was too far in to retreat, if I was going to anger the beast, I might as well fight it.

"I guess I'll see you there." I replied confidently, not batting an eye, preparing myself for her wrath.

It looked as if she was about to swing punches at me with no mercy, but as her fists raised up, my math teacher poked his head out of his classroom to see what was the commotion occurring in front of his classrooms. Her hands immediately dropped, her guilt painted all over her. I froze, staring back at my teacher, begging he would send her away. Mr. Warner only gave us a blind eye, completely unaware of what Greta was going to do.

Still, even with the teachers giving us merely a passing glance, Greta was on high alert, the only way she could contain her rage was slamming the notebooks out of my hands. Watching it clatter to the ground, I saw the notebook open and face down on the floor, papers scattered all around. I was going to be late after picking up all of this. I wanted to scream, but I shouldn't aggravate her anymore than I had to. She could destroy me.