Toxic Love

“Hey! Nerd!” Another scrunched up piece of paper comes flying in my direction, tapping the crown of my head harmlessly and bouncing off before dropping into the small space between my hunched back and the hard wood of the chair behind.

This is the hundredth time someone has called me ‘nerd’ today, the thousandth time this week and the one millionth time this year. Being a bookworm doesn’t make me a nerd but I guess people have a hard time understanding that fact in this godforsaken curse of a school.

Averting my gaze from the book sprawled open on my desk, I catch Erin Miller, the notorious ginger bully, standing a few feet from me, a smug grin slapped on his face as he closes in on me with his two most trusted henchmen following close behind. Being a ginger roughed him up because of the constant mockery he’d receive from the other students and now he’s an unbearable menace who’d pick on the “smaller people” like myself.

Sashaying through the gaps in between each of the desks, he halts before me and leans down to pick up the book I was reading with his forefinger and thumb as though it were a piece of rubbish. Sneering at the ordinary sight, he shares a look with his mates and cracks a disconcertingly unfunny joke that has them howling with uncontrolled cackles.

“So, the nerd is reading books? How… nerdy.” My anger flares up from the way he folds one of the delicate pages carelessly like I wouldn’t dare to do anything to stop him and I hold my breath, curling my fist to stop myself from hitting him and reach out for my book. As expected, he holds it high above my head and folds the cover after eyeing my fist carefully, giggling as I try to grab hold of my now bent book.

Patience holds me back from instant violence and I eventually manage to yank his heavy arm low enough to snatch the paperback from his stubby hand quickly. Blowing it as if it does much to help rid of his filthy touch, I retort lamely in retaliation, not expecting much of a reaction from the giddy trio.

“It’s better than stuffing your mouth with food, pork chop. You haven’t even got a neck.” The harmless clapback sends a cacophony of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ resonating from every corner and when I glance around, I find every set of eyes in the classroom fixated on the pair of us. When I dare a single glimpse back at the giant, his cheeks are flushed a deep, tomato red with his fists clenched tightly by his sides and he looks close to bursting. No, maybe he’s going to burst now.

“You little…” he hisses but doesn’t finish off as his arms shoot out to grasp me and within seconds, I’m stood in front of him with his hand entangled in my normally neat hair. My breath catches at the sudden attack and I inhale sharply before endeavouring to free myself from his suffocating grip, my eyes watering with every turn of his wrist that tugs harshly on my roots.

“Get your fucking hands off my hair, Bruce Bogtrotter,” I rasp through clenched teeth, scratching at his wrists futilely as I fight back tears. Instead, his fingers tighten around my locks and I bite my tongue hard enough to force down the scream about to slip out.

“Talk shit now, bitch,” he spits in my ear loathsomely and I recoil as the spittle sprays all over my cheek, doubling my efforts but to no avail. His free hand slithers down to my waist and he pinches me hard, making me gasp loudly as pain throbs in my side mercilessly and I can’t help but double over as the sting rushes through me.

Why is everyday always so terrible?

At that exact moment, the room erupts into chaos as guys cuss him out and dash towards us, some yelling at the top of their lungs whilst others giggle childishly and record the scene.

“Oye! FUCKIN’ SISSY!”

“Bro, stop hitting girls!”

“Gingey’s angry!”

As the class goes into uproar with some of the boys beginning to get physical, he releases me and starts to quarrel with those repeatedly shoving him back as they tower over him threateningly. Stumbling from the deliberate push he gave, I rake my fingers through my hair, trying to tame the mess he created and grab my book, wanting to leave.

His henchmen sink into the crowd forming as students from nearby classes join in with the drama, chanting provocatively and whipping out their phones to briskly record the impending fight before any teachers arrive. One particular student, a lean brunette, catches Erin’s attention and he lunges for him without forethought.

Alan- the guy who Erin happened to drag in- launches a series of blows in Erin’s chubby face without hesitation, his own face red with rage as he unleashes every last bit of fury into every coordinated punch. Expletives and obnoxious profanities spill from his mouth as he drives his foot into Erin’s stomach inexorably once he collapses and the sounds of teacher’s shrieking over the encouragement from students relieves me.

“Everyone get out of this classroom at once!” The resolute tone snaps everyone out of their momentary glee before groans of annoyance echoes throughout. Whilst the room begins to empty out, Alan wipes his bloodied fist on a tissue and approaches me cautiously before cupping my face and pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of the mouth. It’s not a kiss to titillate but one of solace.

“You okay?” he asks, the concern in his voice evident as he gives me a meticulous once over. Answering with a simple bob of my head and a convincing smile, he kisses me again before the teacher yells at him and he follows her out.

Once the class unloads to just the students that are supposed to be present, our Geography teacher storms in looking as exasperated as usual. Everyone stifles a giggle as she slams the hefty pile of mock tests onto the table with more force than necessary and glares at every one of us individually, taking her sweet time to sear holes through us with her cerulean eyes staring deep into our souls.

When her eyes land on me, I notice- or perhaps I imagined it- how her eyes soften only by a notch before hardening and moving on to the next person but looking more unimpressed than before.

Ms Hughes, the well-known, strict-as-fuck, child-detesting, mentally tormenting deputy serving the school for forty years or something, proceeds her nonverbal interrogation that drags on for what could be hours but is a solid three minutes before drawling a single word.

“No.”

Mutinous students roar with frustration as they dispute over the one word though now she appears unfazed in comparison to the anger she displayed only seconds ago, instead, checking her watch and yawning deliberately whilst everyone protests.

In lieu of telling everyone to quieten down, she checks her watch a second time before drawing a line on the large whiteboard at the front. The havoc wreaking individuals begrudgingly stop their mutiny as the teacher threatens us all with the loss of our lunch break with the single action, appeased by our eventual complaisance.

“All of you failed the mock test except for two people. Two people,” she barks, adding emphasis on the ‘two’ as she berates us incessantly. Staring over her thin glasses perched on the brink of her nose, she gestures vaguely at the test papers lying on the table. “If you want a nice trip planned, you better study for it. I’m not wasting my time on something you don’t deserve.”

We all remain quiet, waiting with bated breath, anticipating another scolding that we know will never come as she sifts the classroom once more with her disappointed gaze.

Eventually, she strides up to her desk and slopes down into the plush chair, burying her head in her hands as she mumbles distinctly, most likely insulting every chucklehead in this classroom for ten minutes straight.

Straightening up as if nothing happened, she jumps back into bossy mode, making today’s lesson as boring as ever as part of our punishment for the bad results.

The bell rings at long last and Ms Hughes shuts her book, addressing us rudely without shame.

“Get out, you lot. Whoever doesn’t bring their homework in next week gets an immediate detention.” Her grumble is barely audible over the blaring natter coming from the hallway as a mixture of first years up till year elevens fill the enclosed space.

Everyone jumps out of their seats, crowding around the exit impatiently for recess. My mind wanders off to the dress I’ve chosen for prom as I wait at the back of the crowd, creating silly little scenarios in my head and wondering how the big day will go.

The choice was extremely difficult due to the miscellaneous vivid hues and the gorgeous styles of each piece that I had spent a goddamn week admiring the gowns through the shop’s website. It’s a shame I only picked up one dress.

The sea of people gradually dissipates and I rush out of the stuffy corridors to the playground to meet up with my friend group. It’s certainly the most eccentric group anyone could ever be a part of yet sometimes I wonder if I even fit in with the others.

Stella, the golden retriever who loves nothing more than the colour pink, practically pounces onto me as soon as I’m within reach, talking so fast to the point I don’t understand a word she says. Abigail (the antithesis of Stella) rolls her eyes and yanks her off of me without strain, grumbling about something to do with another group project for her music lesson.

Verda and Nicole are nowhere to be seen so I’m assuming they’re either being held back for a few minutes or are stuck in the typical corridor rush on the third floor.

Eagerness emanates off of Stella in lengthy waves so my guess is her and Abigail both know about mine and Erin’s most recent squabble. Together, they haul me towards our favourite spot in the playground so we can wait for the other two and gossip about today’s events.

“Girl, you NEED to spill the tea. They got a freaking video of mac-n-cheese getting knocked nearly unconscious by your boyfriend,” Stella giggles as she shows me the video sent in one of the Snapchat group chats. Mac-n-cheese is the code name we use for Erin.

“They should’ve knocked him unconscious. Too bad all these motherfuckers are weak as fuck,” Abigail scoffs haughtily, her obvious contempt for Erin showing in her facial expression. Me and Stella share a knowing look before bursting into fits of ugly laughter, fully aware that she’s still not over the fact that she’d been in a relationship with Erin.

“Fuck off, you two.” Her pissed off tone paired with the irritated scowl carved into her face makes us cackle harder. Stella tumbles off the bench and we both double over into silent laughter, unable to make a sound and wheezing after a few moments of pained breathing.

“Just give the details, fuckin’ hell,” she grumbles and mutters her complaints under her breath before her eyes widen and she whispers a hushed “finally”.

Verda and Nicole come running and giggling like goons, dropping onto either side of myself and yapping on about something I can’t quite catch on.

“The video,” they both scream in unison before resuming their unfiltered sounds of amusement, nudging me roughly as they continue chattering inaudibly.

Releasing a dragging breath that leaves me empty, I tell them right from the beginning of what happened, or what I remember.

The moment I mention how I got my hair pulled by Erin, they’re all cursing with such hatred, I temporarily forget who these girls are and how sweet they normally are.

It takes around twenty minutes to story-tell with all the necessary details, enough to sate them and by the end of it, I’m slumped over the table, my body set alight in the burning furnace whilst the heat messes with my head.

Being on my period does not help either.

“Fuck, guys. I’m gonna go to the bathroom for a sec. It’s way too hot.” The four of them wave me off dismissively so I head straight into the building, going up to the third floor since it’s nearly always empty for lunch break and drag my feet along each step.

The third level looks vacant so there’s not much noise and I’m hoping there’s actually no one in the bathroom. My phone bleeps as I head for the door and when I check the notifications blowing up my phone, I can’t hold back the smile from growing instantly.

Alan: are you ok?

Alan: they told me that little shit hit you before

Alan: I also got suspension for two weeks and instant detention for the week when I return

Alan: please answer my calls. Is it break yet?

Vibrating in my hands as he calls again, I pickup the call, waiting outside the bathroom as I listen to the speaker crackling before his voice comes out smoothly.

“Fuck, Jas. I just found out what that bitch did. Are you okay? How badly did he hurt you, baby? I swear to god-” I cut him off before he can start throwing out threats that’ll end with me being dragged into something I wasn’t part of.

“It’s fine, Alan. Seriously, he didn’t do anything.” Hearing him exhale, I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding and enter the bathroom.

“After school, I was thinking we should go out,” he starts but I don’t hear the rest as my eyes find a half naked girl lying on the counter with a shirtless dude on top and I clamp my hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming at the top of my lungs.

Panic grips me as I realise who I’ve just witnessed and the dreadful realisation that I’m going to be hauled into someone else’s business without a doubt hits me like a tonne of bricks.

Great! Just what I fucking need.