A Wilting Rose

A Harsh Wind

The cold seemed to pierce my skin as I bent my head against the wind, clutching the straps of my school bag. Fortunately, I lived in the peaceful area of the village, and my journey to school was uneventful; I passed only a few Year Seven girls who were giggling unnecessarily, and a lone Year Nine boy who was speaking incessantly on his phone.

As I proceeded towards the heavy, black painted gates guarding the school entrance, I saw Michelle Murphy and a couple of her cackling cronies, sitting astride a short, brick wall. They were applying lipstick, their eyes fixated upon their pocket mirrors.

Michelle Murphy was a fellow Year Eleven, and my main female bully. What was worse, was that though she hardly tried at all in anything other being vile, she was clever under her many layers of foundation. The teachers recognised this, and therefore placed her in many of my sets.

I inwardly groaned as one of her sidekicks averted her eyes from her mirror for a split second, and saw me. She subtly nudged Michelle, who glanced up, annoyed at being distracted from her makeup-applying. Then her eyes fell on me.

An amused smile tugged on the corners of her mouth for a second, and she looked at me like a feline may lay eyes upon a rabbit. I continued battling against the forceful breeze, ignoring her completely. But the only way to get into school was past her.

'Hey, Ginger-Nut!' she called to me.

I felt a familiar blush creep over my cheeks, and I cursed myself. The next taunt was predictable...

'Aww, look, ickle Rosy Posy's gone red!' she exclaimed to a chorus of snickers, proving my foreseeing right.

I felt a stinging stab push persistently behind my eyes, but I blinked repeatedly, not letting the tears cascade. That would have deadly consequences. I tried to zone her out, as I had been trying to do for the past five years. But her voice penetrated my mind anyway, as it always did.

'Hey Rose,' she jeered snidely, 'are you just popping off to library? Could you get me a book? It's called Get all the Spofs out of my Life.'

Her friends beside her snickered. I could have just walked away. I could have completely ignored her. But I just couldn't help myself.

'I don't think the word you're looking for is 'spof',' I babbled, realising that it would probably sound much cooler if my words didn't tumble out in a such a shaky waterfall. 'That stands for Single Point of Failure, and is used in terms of machinery.'

The words were out before I could stop them. It was only when they had been spilled that I realised how geeky I must have sounded.

Why do I even know that? I thought frustratedly at myself.

Because you're a geek! A sneering voice in my head scoffed. You're a geek and you know it. That's why you have no friends. Face the facts, Rosy Posy.

I tensed, as I watched Michelle process my words. Then, after a split second, she and the others burst out into peals of mocking laughter. I felt my cheeks redden further, and then the world became a blur. I ran, ignoring the laughs, ignoring everything. I could barely see where I was going through the salty water pooling in my eyes, but somehow I navigated myself to my form room.

Once outside the door, I violently rubbed my eyes, forcing them to dry. I knew they must look red, so I fake sneezed as I came into the room. Mrs Thomas, my form tutor, was sitting at the front desk, marking.

'Got a cold, Rose, dear?' questioned Mrs Thomas in a concerned tone as I stowed my bag under my desk and sat.

'Yep, I always get them near winter,' I said in response.