The Hate List

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Chapter 3 – Millie (Three years earlier)

I was completing the history questions from the whiteboard when I felt a crumpled piece of paper hit my shoulder.

I heard giggling erupt from behind me, but I choose to ignore both the paper and the laughter as I attempted to continue my work.

“Where are you, Blake?” I mumbled to myself quietly. It was a stupid question. There was no proper reason for me to ask it as I already knew what the answer was.

My only friend in my year eight homeroom was Blake Williams. My other friends Kitty, Maya, Jonah, Jude, and Aiden, had all been placed into different homerooms then me. Jude and Maya were together in Eight Gold, and Kitty had been put in Eight Purple with Aiden and Jonah. The problem with year eight was that you had every class with your homeroom.

Sadly for me, Blake had been away for two weeks sick. I had gone to visit him yesterday to give him his homework, and I doubt he will be coming back to school anytime soon. This wasn’t even the first time this year that Blake had been ill. To add to this disappointment, Blake and I had been placed in Eight White, the same homeroom as Alesia and Renate. Two girls whose mission in life was to make my time at school as miserable as possible

The next ball of paper landed in the middle of my workbook. It bounced on impact and hit my right hand softly, before rolling to the edge of the table. The giggling continued and rose in volume. I sighed loudly in frustration as I picked up the paper and uncrumpled it. I already had a feeling that I knew what it wound say.

As I flatten out the piece of paper out, I realised it had been written by Renate. I would recognise her perfect cursive handwriting anywhere.

If you were to die no one would care. FREAK!

I almost laughed at the comment. It wasn’t that funny and wasn’t even original on their part. Grace had been the first person to say that to me not them. They couldn’t even come up with their own insults they had to steal them from other people.

Yet that didn’t stop it from hurting. I could make fun of their lack of originality all I wanted. No matter what I told myself, I can’t stop their words from hurting. It would always hurt.

I looked over my shoulder to see Alesia and Renate in a fit of giggles. When Alesia realised I was looking at the two of them, she made an L with her left hand and raised it to her forehead. ‘Loser,’ she mouthed out me. This only caused Renate to laugh harder.

“Is there something you would like to share girls?” Mrs Stevens asked as she looked up from the work she was marking at her desk at the front of the room. Both girls stopped laughing and looked innocently at Mrs Stevens.

“Nothing Ms,” Renate replied in her thick French accent and smile sweetly at Mrs Stevens. As mean as Renate was, she could still resemble a perfect little princess when she wanted to. Of course, every teacher fell for the cute blonde French girl’s act.

“Alesia?” Mrs Stevens asked as she turned her attention to the brunette.

“Nothing at all, Ms,” Alesia said. She mimicked Renate’s smile, but she lacked the innocence expression that Renate had mastered.

Noticing my discomfort, Mrs Stevens turned her attention to me. “Amelia?” She asked as she stared at me. “Is everything alright?” She showed concern as she looked at me.

I briefly looked down at the piece of paper on my desk before looking back at Mrs Stevens. “It is fine, Ms.”

I not sure if she entirely believed me but she did accept my answer.

“Then return to your work and do not make a sound,” Mrs Stevens said harshly to Renate and Alesia, as she lowered her eyes and continued marking the large stack of papers on her desk.

I looked back at the note on my desk. I crushed it up into a tiny ball again. I got up from my table and moved towards the recycling bin and threw the ball of paper into it before returning back to my desk.

I walked past Alesia and Renate confidently with my head held high and glared at both of them angrily before sitting down. On the inside, I didn’t feel as confident as I acted. Instead, I felted as if I was about to burst into tears.

Do not cry. I told myself. It was the same thing I did every time this happened.

You can cry when you get home.

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