I don't Mate with Jerks

Hunted becomes the Huntress

 

 

Five years ago

Ashington Middle School, Ashington, Connecticut

Seventh grade

"Hey Katie, I heard you ate dead people? Do you speak to 'em too?" Luke Dunn laughed in my face, the rest of the class laughing and gathering around. I was the last one playing Statues against my friend, Grace Brown, in theater class. The point of the game was one person was supposed to try to get the rest of the class to move; the last one that hasn't moved a muscle wins.

"Yeah, Katie, do you eat dead people?" Chase called out, making them all laugh harder. My fists clenched by my sides, they never give up. More than half way through the school year and they haven't given up, I'm still a freakin' game to them.

"Hey Katie, look at that dead squirrel over there! All its guts and brains spilling out onto the ground." I loved animals, so what? Chloe Newman didn't have any right to say that though. Her little group of witchy friends gathered around, practically repeating what Chloe said. In the past, they have made fun of me because of how I dressed, how I act, and how pudgy I was. I wasn't fat, but I wasn't skinny. I was just round and because of that; it gave those girls another reason on the very long list to ruin my life. I noticed out of the corner of my eye, Grace laughing with all of them, as if humiliating me was hilarious.

I felt the tears swell up in my eyes. It was just another game of, "Who can get Katie to cry first" and this time, the winner was Grace. As the class continued laughing and yelling things in my face, warm tears slid down my cheeks, but not from sadness, from anger. I was furious. I was Miss Perfect, or at least I tried. I did everything to get high grades, to keep on the teachers' good sides, I worked my freakin' ass off and one punch across the barstad's face would send me out of this school. No, I worked too hard to have all my hard work thrown away on a bunch of immature witches. So I had to settle with yelling.

"SHUT UP!" I screamed back in Luke's face. It was silent for only seconds before they erupted with laughter. 

"All right! Everyone back to your seats!" My theater teacher, Mrs. Guetti directed as she came back into the room. She quickly noticed me crying and as the others sat down, chatting among themselves now, she brought me back to her office behind the props. There I explained everything that just happened, all the nasty things my classmates said. This wasn't news to her though; she had heard the others in the past bullying me but hadn't done much to stop it, just tell me how bratty and immature they are.

Teachers usually shouldn't say mean things about students to other students but that's what I admired her for. She didn't do much to stop the harassing but she did give me better parts in plays if she thought I actually did well and gave me more responsibilities. Plus, she didn't get me in trouble when I dissed the group of girls once or twice. 

She calmed me down in the back room, getting me to laugh when she agreed with me that the only reason these kids were in theater was because they were too lazy and pathetic that they didn't want to sing in chorus or carry around instruments in orchestra or band.