So am I okay, knowing I could have prevented everything? Am I okay letting Asher take the blame for what should have been self-defense? No. No, I am not. “I just want to get through today.”
Maggie squeezes my arm and she smiles. “If we hurry, we can get a table in the back of Ms. Honey’s class.”
I close my locker without taking anything out of it. I don’t feel like being here, and I doubt anything anyone will try and teach me this week will stick. Why bother with my books or anything like that? I’m merely here, going through the motions.
Ms. Honey smiles as we approach her door, but her eyes are sad. She, and most everyone in the school, probably feels bad for Asher and me and I hate it. I don’t want anyone’s pity. I want to be left alone. “Welcome back, Miss Walker.”
I stretch my lips into a grin, so fake it hurts.
“You’re wanted first thing in the guidance counselor’s office.” Ms Honey switches her attention to Maggie. “Miss Mills. Would you mind escorting Miss. Walker there?”
“Of course.” Maggie links her arm with mine.
I’ve sat in this office a total of two times over the past four years and it hasn’t changed. Brightly colored posters adorn the white walls, telling teens not to bully one another, or that sexual assault is not your fault. There’s even one that preaches how smoking is bad for you. These kinds of rooms, they don’t change.
Mr. Fitzpatrick, our school's pathetic excuse for a guidance counselor, takes a seat on the other side of his desk. The side that says, This is my office, but you’re safe here. Tell me your problems.
I don’t have any problems to tell, so he’s going to be disappointed.
“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you this year, Miss Walker. How are you holding up?”
I shrug. One thing I learned over the years, I’m not required to answer anything because he doesn’t have any power.
I came to Mr. Fitzpatrick freshman year when a few jealous girls set their sights on me. They viewed me as a threat when I wouldn’t be their wingman and sing their praises to Liam. And so the bullying started. It was simple enough, at first. A few snickers behind my back. Poorly worded notes dropped on my desk or in my locker calling me a slut.
All of which I could handle, until Hunter Braun. The first boy to ask me on a date. Not just any date, homecoming.
Liam hated the idea of Hunter and I going together, but he had a date of his own, so I ignored him. Hunter showed up at my door in a limo. He introduced himself like a gentleman. He took me to a restaurant where we were to eat with his friends.
And then his real date showed up.
The one he abandoned me for to screw in the bathrooms. The one everyone knew existed but me. I was humiliated but I kept a smile on my face until Nola purposely spilled her drink down the back of my dress. My night ended there. Hunter and his date left in the limo he rented for her. His friends and bitch of a sister left a few moments later, probably to the dance. As for me, I hid in the bathroom.
Too embarrassed to call Mom.
Unable to get a hold of Liam or Maggie.
So who came to my rescue?
Asher.
I swallowed my pride as I climbed into what was probably a stolen car. We weren’t old enough to drive and yet there he was, picking me up after I begged him and insisted there was no one else. He took me to Maggie’s house, where I crawled through her window until she got home some hours later, and we never talked about that night again.
When I brought my problem to Mr. Fitzpatrick, requesting to be switched out of the English class I shared with Nola, he handed me a pamphlet on bullying and, in more or less words, told me to suck it up.
“I’m glad to see you’re back, Miss Walker,” he says, with faux excitement. We both know he could care less if I was in school or not. James Fitzpatrick is a fifty-something-year-old man who actively counts down until his retirement.
How do I know?
He has DUR and the number two hundred and thirty-seven written in the bottom left-hand corner of his white board. “I’ve talked to all of your teachers. Given the unfortunate circumstances around your absences, they were all more than willing to let you make up any missed work.”
“Thank you.” I wasn't worried. My grades are high enough that even if my teachers were to give me a zero, I’d be fine. Even if my grades dropped, we still have two weeks until final exams and those tests have more weight than the rest.
Mr. Fitzpatrick clicks the end of his pen and flips a notebook open. “We should probably talk about what happened between you and Mr. Anderson.”
I suck in a breath, holding the air in my lungs until the pressure is nearly unbearable. I’ve known all morning that Asher would be a hot topic. That people would poke and prod about how he is and our current relationship status. Or lack thereof. I was prepared to ignore all requests and have Maggie shoo away anybody who couldn’t take the hint. I was not prepared for this.
“I’d rather not.”