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“I didn’t get into a fight,” she muttered to herself. “I was attacked. And what I did was self-defense.”
She’d been defending her younger sister, actually. Because at this school, bullying was a problem. Chanel had been able to keep her head down, but Briony, her younger sister, was taking the brunt of it.
Chanel was not a popular girl. She didn’t have many friends, but that was a choice she made.
She’d once been popular. At the end of primary school she’d been part of the group that ruled the school, and could have continued to occupy a place of respect in middle school. But Chanel had made a decision to cut her ties with that group, and with the girl who led it.
The way Chanel saw it, she’d made a clean break. She’d never felt the need to hang out with them again.
But she’d felt the need to stop that group from harassing and hurting Briony. Chanel had moved on; Briony hadn’t. The bully was now picking on Briony.
Like a lioness protecting a cub, Chanel had muscled in to stop one of the girls in the clique from bullying her baby sis.
And she’d suffered for it. The girls had ganged up on her. She had the bruise and scratch marks on her neck, and she’d taken a few punches to the head and arms also.
She ached, not only from the assault, but from the fact she’d been sent home while they got off free and clear.
“And they’re going to be talking about this all day, getting more and more popular because they beat me up.”
She had to go home and deal with the shame, and she was sure it wasn’t going to be a pretty picture. Chanel hated this school. She hated these girls. She hated her parents for making her come here. How was it fair that she was getting punished for being a good sister?
She trudged along the street, her head down, concentrating on her shoes and her feet, putting one foot in front of the other, not thinking about much else.
Her father would be in the middle of a work day, so he wouldn’t be around to calm Mom down and keep her from blaming Chanel for the whole thing. Her mother would probably believe whatever the other girls told her. She was a real cheerleader for whatever the popular girls did.
And home was a long way off. Five miles. A long walk in the summer heat. Usually, she took the school bus or her mom fetched her. But having been kicked out, she had no choice but to walk. The alternative would have been to call her mom, but Chanel hadn’t wanted to make her mad.
But things had to get better. She was through taking this crap. She had decided to make a stand, to stop things once and for all. To stop being a victim. She needed to take a stand and call out the bullies. The fact that they were basically running the school was unacceptable. And picking on innocent people like her baby sister was just mean. It must be stopped.
Now she just needed to work out how to get it done.
Her legs ached as she set off up the hill, conscious of her torn sleeve and her bruise and her messy hair.
And then she heard a car slow down behind her. She glanced around.
“Hey there,” a man said, leaning out the window and calling in her direction. “You okay? You need help? Or a ride?”
She stared, a little suspicious. “I’m fine,” she said.
He looked like a normal guy, though, she realized. Not some weirdo. Just a plain, normal guy in a biggish pickup.
“You sure? I could take you home if you need me to.”
She paused. She hadn’t expected him to offer her a ride, and it seemed so reasonable, she hated to refuse.
“No, it’s okay, thanks.”
“You look like you’re having some problems.”
“I just have to get home.” She turned away, staring at the hill, which felt as insurmountable as her problems.
After this, the bullies were going to home in on her more than ever.
“You been fighting?” he asked sympathetically.
Chanel shrugged. “Guess so,” she said.
She wasn’t going to tell him she’d been beaten up. And yet she felt an urge to talk to him. It was probably because he was a stranger, and he seemed to understand the way she felt.
