“Mom, I know that, but nothing you do will change anything. It is what it is. I just have to deal with it.”
“What if I talk to Carter and her parents?”
“Oh God, Mom, please don’t. You’ll make it all worse.”
“But, Malia, it might help.”
“No, no, no. I’ll deal with it.”
“Well, if you think so.” She goes back to the stove and stirs the pot she has there and then turns back toward me. “You know, this will only make you a stronger adult. Friends are overrated, sweetheart. You are learning to be more independent by doing things on your own.”
“Yeah, Mom, I guess you are right.” Why is every adult in my life so clueless? Don’t they understand I want nothing more than those girls to be my friends? Don’t they know I would give anything if they invited me to hang out with them or have lunch with them? Just because I am not from their inner social circle or their town even, I’m marked as different. But other than the bullying, we are not so different. We all want the same things. Every girl my age wants to be liked, to have friends to do things with, and to be part of the “in” crowd. Oh well, it will never change.
I grab my backpack and turn to leave the kitchen. “I’ll be down in ten to help with dinner,” I call back to my mom.
***
The next day at school, I do my best to stay out of The Mean Girls’ way. Surprisingly enough, they haven’t surfaced yet. I find it odd because normally by lunchtime, I’ve run in to at least one of them, and I always get some form of a snide remark. But lunch goes without an event, and instead of being happy, I’m nervous. They are up to something. I’m sure of it. I only wish I knew what. I feel like I constantly have to look over my shoulder for the ball to drop.
After lunch, I go back to my locker to get my books for my afternoon classes. Inside, there is a note pinned to my backpack from the headmistress.That’s odd. Why would she be writing me a note?It is on her letterhead. I pull the note down and read it.
Ms. Centura,
You have been at Wilton Academy for almost four months now, and I can’t tell you how pleased we are to have you. Our school puts on an annual Christmas pageant each year, and I am writing to ask you to head the planning committee. I believe it will help you get to know your fellow students better and give you an opportunity to participate more in a school event.
The first thing you will need to do is go through all the decorations kept in the third-floor storage room. Meet me there during your study hall today, and I will give you the key so you can get started. I’ve already made arrangements with your study hall monitor. I’ve also contacted your mother to inform her you would not be coming home on the bus and asked her to pick you up around five. That should give you plenty of time to go through everything.
With warm regards,
Headmistress Polly Grafton
So my plan to remain invisible just backfired on me. I figured if I kept my nose out of trouble and steered clear of school activities, I could get through this school year with only minor scars. Then perhaps I could talk my mom into letting me go back to my old school. But now, Headmistress Grafton has noticed I am not a joiner and is making a point to tell me I need to be.Aaggh.
I get through the rest of the afternoon without any encounters with The Mean Girls, and I’ve become more worried. I haven’t seen any of them. There is no way all four of them are sick at the same time, but in a way, it wouldn’t surprise me. They do everything together, so I’m sure they wouldn’t think twice about being out of school together. I brush off the uneasy feeling and proceed upstairs.
The school is housed in an old, three-story Victorian house, or what was a Victorian house. The original structure still remains, but there have been several additions added over the years to accommodate the dormitories and the classrooms. The main portion of the house is where the headmistress’s office, teacher offices, and break rooms are, as well as other administrative offices used for purposes I don’t know. The storage room is on the third floor of the main house.
When I enter, I check Headmistress Grafton’s office to see if she is there, but it is empty. She must already be upstairs waiting for me. I make my way up the spiral staircase to the third floor. To my surprise, the headmistress is not here, but the storage room is open.Perhaps she is inside.I walk inside and look around, but she is nowhere to be found. Just then, the door to the room slams behind me. I turn around and hear laughter, and I know by the sound of their cackling that it is Carter, Shanna, Cady, and Kristen outside the door. I run to open it, but it is locked. They locked me inside.
I realize now that Headmistress Grafton never wrote the note, and this was a prank by The Mean Girls. Now, I am stuck here. I’ve missed my bus home, and my mother has no idea where I am. I pull my cell phone out of my bag to call her. She can come get me out of here. After unlocking the screen, my heart sinks.No service.Of course not.Why would I expect anything to go in my favor?
I sit on the old-fashioned school desk by the window and gaze around the room. It’s musty and dirty in here, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there were spiders and other critters living among all this junk.
I shouldn’t be here too long. When I don’t come home, my mom will call the school, and they will begin looking for me. I pull out one of my books and decided to utilize the time to get some homework done. We have two chapters to read in my social studies class, and now is as good of a time as any to get it done.
I get through the two chapters in about an hour, taking notes in my notebook. There is always a pop quiz when we have reading assignments, and I’ve learned early on to take notes and study them when we get them. I look out the window and realize it is starting to get dark. I’m still not worried. The sun is only just setting, and Mom must have called the school by now. They just haven’t found me yet.
What if they don’t find me?
I shake my head. That’s foolish thinking. Of course they will find me. I take out my algebra book and decide to knock that homework out too. I freaking hate algebra, but every school requires it. I swear they think every student is going to be an engineer or something. I want to be an English teacher. Besides knowing basic math, what on earth will I need algebra for? But like a good student, I pay attention in class and do my homework. Like I really have a choice.
It’s getting darker. I look at my watch. 6:00 p.m. The storage room is dark too, and it’s hard to see. Looking around the room, I spot a light switch. I get up from the chair and walk to it. I flip it and nothing. I flip it again, still nothing. Like that was really going to make a difference. I look up at the ceiling and see the bulbs in the overhead light have been removed.Carter!
Come on, Mom…
It is now 8:00 p.m. It’s getting colder in this room. It’s dark, and I’m starting to get scared. Why hasn’t anyone come for me? Was it their plan all along to leave me here? I look at my phone for the hundredth time to see if I have signal.Still nothing.I start looking through the last things I have done on my phone. I pull up my text messages and see I sent a message at 11:00 a.m. to my mom saying I would be staying with a friend tonight and that I would see her after school tomorrow.What the hell? I didn’t send that message.
Someone had to get a hold of my phone, but when? I think back through my day. I started my morning in algebra. I know I had my phone with me then and my next class. But then, the class before lunch was social studies. That’s when I put my phone back in my locker because my teacher doesn’t allow phones in her class.
