MILLICENT
One would think after all the fails, the soup, the slap, the public embarrassment. Sandra Patel's bullying would slow down, maybe even stop. But no. It doubled.
Like a fire that didn't burn out, it just spread, got meaner, louder, stickier. There was gum on my seat almost every morning, always the hard, extra-minty kind that stuck to my skirt like cement and took half the fabric with it when I pulled away.
Once, there was glue inside my locker handle. Another time, all my books were gone, replaced with old math tests scribbled with "fail" in red ink.
My shoes went missing before third period, and I had to walk to class in socks. They were waiting for me inside the janitor's mop bucket, soaked and smelling like bleach.
But each time, I found a way to win.
Sometimes it was
