Bia

Gym class marked my last period for the day, which meant I was left sweaty and flushed for the least amount of time possible in school. For this, I was thankful.

Our class filtered into the change rooms and I turned me back on the rest of the room, concentrating on getting changed as fast as possible so I could go home. I switched my overly large gym shirt for a tight grey tank top and I slipped out of my shorts and struggled into a pair of black skinny jeans. With a sigh, I released my hair from the ponytail and removed the bobby pins. I covered my arms in bracelets and the black cuffs, nearly ready to leave.

I was heading for the mirrors to re-apply my eye makeup when Elycia, Grace, and Carmindy caught up with me.

Dam’n. Thwarted.

“Bia, can we talk to you for a moment?” Carmindy asked softly.
I stared at her and continued walking towards the mirrors.
“Come on, we just want to talk,” Grace added.
I stared into the mirror at my light grey eyes and brushed my lashes with black mascara.
“We know why you cut yourself,” Elycia blurted suddenly.
I eyed her through the mirror. “No, you definitely don’t.”

The three girls exchanged glances and then turned back to me with determined looks.

“It’s because of Dawson, isn’t it?” Grace mumbled.
“No,” I retorted.

A few weeks prior, a rumor had spouted up about Dawson Ingall and I hooking up at a party. For one, I had never gone to a high school party. For two, Dawson and I had never exchanged a singe word. It was pure speculation.

I ran a tinted lip gloss over my already-pink lips and tried to shake the gaggle of girls that were following me.

“I’ve got to go,” I said just as the bell rang.
“But...” Carmindy sputtered.

I pushed past the girls and stormed out of the change room. I didn’t even stop when the gym teacher yelled something at me or when some kid in the hall made obscene gestures in my general direction.

I didn’t cut for pain. I cut for personal pleasure, for the blood. It was a game to me. My scars were merely squares on the board, places I’d passed long ago. I could honestly tell them I wasn’t into self-mutilation, because for me it was something completely different. *I* was different.

“Watch it, freak!” Marcy Brown sneered at me as she left the newsroom.
I smiled politely and said nothing. Social interaction could be my suicide if I wasn’t careful.

I glanced inside the classroom dedicated to the yearbook/newspaper team to see Calyx Baker, the BIGGEST overachiever and also my annoying neighbor, stuck cleaning up after their last planning meeting of the year.

“Serves her right,” I muttered under my breath, only I knew it wasn’t fair.
I couldn’t hate Calyx, there was nothing wrong with her. And that only made me hate her more.

At one point I’d wanted to be her friend, to join her in her quest to conquer the schooling world. But her dad was a little too pushy and my mom couldn’t stand her family, so I retreated into a bubble and Calyx went ahead to rule the ranks of academic achievement.

Calyx waved at me and I could only avert my eyes. She was too perfect for this world.