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‘And then you looked in a mirror?’ I slide into my seat and pull the sleeves of my cardigan over my fingers.
She sets down her pencil and takes a deep breath. ‘Can you stop doing that?’
I just stare at her.
‘Can you stop trying to be funny? Can you not just let me be mad at you? Ugh!’ She throws up her hands, glances around, and leans across towards the table next to her. ‘Hey, Joseph. Wanna swap seats?’
God, no.
He’s nice enough, but he’s constantly eating these fibre bars that make him fart.
Thankfully, he seems hesitant. He glances at me. ‘Uh…’
Wonderful. Even Joseph Thunderpants has standards when it comes to me.
‘I’ll buy you your favourite bar?’ Cassie prompts.
‘Okay.’
I groan quietly as Joseph slides into the seat next to me.
I’d rather be a worm right now, in the ground where no one can see me.
Every class I have with Cassie, she’s swapped seats to get away from me. It doesn’t go unnoticed, either. Sometimes everyone stares at me and smiles at each other knowingly as I sit; one time a girl refused to move her bag from my chair, so I picked it up and dumped it on the floor. It would have been a bold move if something inside hadn’t shattered. Sometimes even the teacher questions why Cassie’s moved, to which she pleasantly replies, ‘Smells like betrayal and bad decisions over there.’
The notes flow seamlessly as well, but the feel of them smacking the back of my head is so frequent I barely even notice. I don’t read them; I know what they’ll say. I hope my lack of acknowledgement will deter them, but by the end of lesson students just start scrunching up pieces of paper and throwing them at me without writing anything in them.
It isn’t until I’m waiting in line in the cafeteria that everything changes.
A guy sidles up to me to whisper in my ear, ‘Hey, one-dip finger.’
I turn to him. ‘Thank you,’ I say, and his laughter dies.
He stares at me. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do. He scratches the back of his head and walks away.
Because bullying isn’t as fun when the person being bullied shows kindness instead of retaliation.
A girl with dreads and a septum piercing has joined Cassie at the table, so I eat my lunch outside.
For the rest of the day, whenever a comment is thrown my way, I simply smile and thank them. I take their power and grasp control of the situation.
But that night walking home from work, I’m texting Kai goodnight when I look up and freeze.
Archer leans against the side of the cinema building in the glow of a lamppost. And he isn’t smiling.
I’m not sure why, but I’m afraid to be alone with him. He still looks mad about the custard thing.
He must read the wariness in my expression, because he holds up his hands. ‘I won’t touch you,’ he says. ‘But if you want to turn one-dip finger into two-dip finger, I won’t object to it.’
‘Leave me alone, Archer.’ I step around him.
His hand lashes out and grabs my arm. ‘I’m sorry you’re angry.’
I give a short laugh. ‘That’syour apology? Unbelievable.’
His grip tightens, and his eyes flash. ‘I’m trying here. I’m reaching out to you. Isn’t that what you want? And you’re pushing me away.’ He snorts and releases me. ‘Forget it.’
He starts to walk away.
