In Love with my high school bully

I hate Mondays. You know what? I hate school. Mostly, I hate him. “Nice shirt, Atkinson.” I hear laughter erupt behind me as I clutch my book bag tighter, silently hoping the ground would open up and swallow me whole. I could recognize that voice from anywhere. Jimmy Harding. Six-foot-three, star quarterback, annoyingly perfect smile…and unfortunately for me, the reason high school had felt like four straight years of torture. I turn slowly. “Did you get that shirt from the donation bin?” he laughs, pointing toward the shirt I had been so excited to wear up until fiv in e seconds ago. “Because if you did, then the people donating have absolutely zero style.” I glare at him. “Funny,” I mutter. “Didn’t know brain damage could speak.” A few people nearby snicker. Ignoring whatever stupid response he probably has lined up, I turn and continue toward first period. I had bigger problems. There were exactly seventy-three days until senior prom. Not that I was counting. Okay… I was definitely counting. Because unlike every other girl at Westbridge High, I had a serious problem. I had absolutely no prom date. And judging by the way boys at this school looked straight through me like I was some random NPC, my chances of getting one were basically nonexistent. I hadn’t even made it to first period when the one announcement I had dreaded crackled over the announcement system: “Students are reminded that the midterm grades would be released on Friday..” I tuned it out immediately because even though I hated the anxiety that came with checking my grades, midterms were the least of my problems.. I slip into my seat at the back of the classroom, dropping my bag beside me like it was a thousand pound dumbbell. I could still hear soft sniggers around me and it was pretty obvious that people were still laughing at what Jimmy said to me in the hallway. Of course they are. He always had an audience. “Zara.” I look up to see my friend Mia sliding into the seat beside me, chewing gum like she doesn’t have a care in the world. “You good?” she asks, even though we both already know the answer. I shrug. “Define good.” She follows my gaze toward the front of the room where Jimmy is now standing with two of his teammates. Even from here, I can feel it.. the confidence, the attention, the annoying aura of someone who has never had to wonder if people like him. “Don’t let him get to you today,” Mia says. I let out a dry laugh. “That implies I get a break from him.” Before she can respond, the classroom door swings open. And you could FEEL the change in the room’s atmosphere. Chloe Cartman walks into the room and owns it like she’s the queen or something. Head cheerleader. Perfect hair. Perfect Posture. Perfect Boyfriend. Or.. at least she DID. She doesn’t even cast as little as a glance at Jimmy as she walks straight past him. OUCH.. that must have stung Jimmy as I smile inwardly. That alone is enough to make the entire room go quiet. Jimmy notices. Of course he does. “Chloe?” he calls, a small laugh in his voice like this is some kind of joke I’m not in on. She stops. Slowly turns. And then says it. “I’m done, Jimmy.” The room freezes. Even the teacher stops mid-sentence. Jimmy blinks. “What?” Chloe crosses her arms. “This. Us. Whatever it was. I’m done.” For the first time since I’ve known him, Jimmy Harding doesn’t look like Jimmy Harding. He looks confused. Then annoyed. Then something closer to angry. “You’re joking,” he says, forcing a laugh. “Not in front of everyone.” But Chloe doesn’t move. Doesn’t soften. Doesn’t hesitate. “I’m not your girlfriend anymore,” she says. “Get over it.” Silence drops so hard it feels like it hits the floor. A few people shift uncomfortably in their seats. Someone whispers, “oh my God…” Jimmy takes a step forward. “We’re talking about this later.” Chloe finally looks at him now. Really looks at him. “No,” she says simply. “We’re not.” And just like that, she turns and walks out. The door closes behind her with a soft click. But the damage is already done. The classroom slowly comes back to life, but it’s different now. Like something cracked in the air and no one knows how to fix it. I glance at Jimmy. He’s still standing there. Still staring at the door. And for the first time ever… He looks like he’s lost control of something. Something tells me this year just got a lot more complicated.