Jared has been at the school for years. Can he take it anymore?
I woke suddenly from my little nap at the back of class. Miss Brown stood infront of the blackboard looking rather pissed off. She glared at me.
"Not getting enough sleep, are we? I apologise for boring you, Jared."
I shrugged, and sat there quietly as the lesson resumed. I wasn't particularly bothered about the Civil War. I decided to scribble in the back of my book. At least then she'd think I was doing work. I scribbled spiky little hearts... An eye... A cross... a skull... and then the bell went, and we ran for freedom.
And as soon as I went out of the door, it happened again. Various items from the cafeteria were thrown at me. Every day for the past two weeks. And the insult to the injury came when Jackson Jones tipped a full cup of cola over my head. Shouts from various teachers as they ran away. Shouts from other students telling them how hilarious they were. I stood there, feeling the cola and ice soak through my t-shirt, making my teeth chatter.
I just needed to hide. I couldn't let them see me cry. It would let them know they'd won. I knew where to go. There were some large lockers around by the football field. Big enough for me to sit in there unnoticed. I headed there quickly, shaking pieces of food out of my hair.
I should be used to this now, I thought, sitting in the locker. They'd bullied me for years. Since I was a little kid. I had no friends, I never had.
I just wanted out, out of this hell hole of a school, this boring little smudge of a town. I kicked the metal side of the locker in annoyance, shivering in my soaked clothes. I gave up trying to fight there and then, putting my headphones up real loud, and just shutting off from the world.