The Bully’s Blind Spot

Chapter 3

SOPHIE

I make it to the second-floor bathroom before the tears start.

Not the main one by the cafeteria—that's always packed with girls fixing their makeup and gossiping. I go to the one near the art room that nobody uses unless they're desperate. It smells faintly of paint thinner and the fluorescent light flickers, but it's quiet. It's safe.

I lock myself in the last stall and sit on the closed toilet lid, pulling my knees up to my chest. My backpack slides off my shoulder and hits the floor with a thud, but I don't care. I just need a minute. Just one minute where I don't have to pretend I'm okay.

*"If I had a daughter like you, I'd probably disappear too."*

Nathan's words echo in my head, over and over. I press my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the tears, but they come anyway. Hot and angry and humiliating.

He doesn't know. He doesn't know anything about my dad. About the ALS that slowly stole his ability to walk, to talk, to breathe on his own. About how we had to put him in a care facility because Mom couldn't handle it alone and we couldn't afford in-home nurses. About how I visited him every week and watched him fade until there was almost nothing left of the man who used to carry me on his shoulders and call me his "Sophie-girl."

About how he died three months ago and I still haven't told anyone except River and Avery because I don't know how to say it out loud without falling apart.

Nathan doesn't know any of that. And he never will.

Because to him, I'm just an easy target. A joke. Someone who exists to make him and his friends feel better about themselves.

I hear the bathroom door swing open and I freeze, holding my breath. Please don't be someone from Nathan's crowd. Please don't be Chloe. Please just let me have this one moment alone.

"Sophie?" River's voice echoes off the tile walls. "You in here?"

I exhale. Of course it's River. He always knows where to find me.

"Yeah," I call back, my voice cracking. "I'm here."

"We're coming in," Avery says, and I hear two sets of footsteps approaching my stall.

I unlock the door and push it open. River and Avery are standing there, both looking at me with identical expressions of concern. River's wearing his signature oversized flannel and ripped jeans, his dark hair falling into his eyes. Avery's got on a vintage band tee and combat boots, her curly hair pulled back in a messy bun.

They're my people. The only people who actually see me.

"Soph," River says softly, crouching down so we're at eye level. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I lie, wiping at my face. "I'm fine."

River stands up and puts his hands on his hips. "Girl, no. We are not doing this today. You are not fine, and I am *done* watching you pretend like you are."

"It's just Nathan being Nathan," I say, trying to sound casual. "Same as always."

"Okay, and?" River says, his voice sharp with frustration. "Sophie, I have been telling you FOREVER that you need to change your style. And I don't mean lose weight or become someone else—I mean actually wear clothes that fit your body and make you feel good about yourself instead of hiding in your dad's old t-shirts."

"Why even bother?" I snap back, and suddenly all the anger and hurt comes pouring out. "People are gonna make fun of me either way. That's just what happens when you're overweight. It doesn't matter if I dress like this or if I wear something that actually fits—someone's always gonna have something to say."

"That's not—" Avery starts, but I cut her off.

"No, it is true. When was the last time you saw an overweight woman on a magazine cover? Besides Oprah Winfrey? You don't. And don't even get me started on i********:. You know those outfit-of-the-day posts? Look at the comments on the ones from plus-size girls. People are *vicious*. They say the most disgusting things. So yeah, forgive me if I don't see the point in trying when the world has already decided I'm not worth looking at."

River's expression softens, but he doesn't back down. "Okay, first of all? Those people are trash. Literal garbage humans who hate themselves so much they have to tear down strangers on the internet. But Soph, baby, listen to me—this isn't about them. This isn't even about Nathan, as much as I would love to personally drag him through the hallway by his overpriced sneakers."

Despite everything, I almost smile at that.

"This is about *you*," River continues, sitting down on the floor and pulling me to sit next to him. "This is about you looking in the mirror and not hating what you see. This is about you taking up space in the world like you have every right to be here—because you *do*."

"He doesn't ignore you, Sophie," Avery says quietly, sitting on my other side. "Nathan targets you. And yeah, part of that is because you're plus-size and we live in a world that's cruel to people who don't fit into a tiny little box. But the other part? The part we can actually do something about? Is that you've made yourself an easy target by acting like you don't deserve to exist."

"I'm not—" I start, but River holds up a hand.

"You wear clothes three sizes too big. You keep your head down. You apologize for taking up space in a hallway. You've spent so much time trying to be invisible that you've forgotten you're allowed to be seen."

"And the thing is," Avery adds, "you're not invisible to assholes like Nathan. You're just invisible to everyone else. To all the people who might actually see you for who you are if you gave them the chance."

I want to argue. I want to tell them they don't understand what it's like. But the truth is, River knows exactly what it's like to be different, to be targeted, to want to disappear. And he's still here, still showing up every day with his flannel shirts and his sass and his refusal to apologize for existing.

"So what am I supposed to do?" I ask, and my voice cracks. "Just... what? Pretend like I'm confident? Fake it till I make it?"

"No," River says firmly. "You stop hiding. You stop wearing clothes that make you look like you're trying to disappear. You stop acting like you're sorry for being here. You don't have to change your body, Soph. You just have to stop treating it like something to be ashamed of."

"And yeah," Avery says, "people might still say s**t. Nathan might still be Nathan. But at least you'll be doing it for yourself. At least you'll know that you're not giving them the power to make you invisible."

I stare at her. "You think it's that easy?"

"I think it's that hard," River says. "But I also think you're strong enough to do it."

"I'm not strong," I say. "I'm the girl who cries in bathroom stalls."

"You're the girl who shows up every single day even though you know Nathan's going to be an asshole," River counters. "You're the girl who volunteers at the community center every week even though you could be doing literally anything else. You're the girl who held it together when your dad was sick and when he died and you didn't fall apart even though you had every right to."

My throat tightens. I don't talk about my dad. Not even with them, most of the time.

"You're stronger than you think," Avery says gently. "You just don't see it yet."

"I don't know how to be confident," I admit. "I don't know how to just... own it. Whatever 'it' is."

"Then we'll help you," River says. "That's what we're here for."

"How?" I ask, and I'm surprised to find that I actually want to know. That there's a tiny spark of something in my chest that might be hope.

Avery grins. "First, we're going shopping. And I don't mean the clearance rack at the thrift store. I mean actual shopping for clothes that fit your body. Not clothes that hide it."

"I can't afford—"

"I've been saving my birthday money," River interrupts. "And before you argue, this is what I want to spend it on. You're not allowed to say no."

"River—"

"Not. Allowed," he repeats, and there's a stubborn set to his jaw that I recognize. When River makes up his mind about something, there's no changing it.

"And second," Avery continues, "you're going to start showing up. Like, actually showing up. Not just physically being here, but being present. Making eye contact. Speaking up in class. Existing like you have a right to be here."

"Because you do," River adds. "You have just as much right to be here as Nathan or Chloe or anyone else."

I want to argue. I want to tell them it's not that simple, that they don't understand, that I can't just flip a switch and become confident. But the truth is, I'm tired. I'm so tired of being invisible. I'm tired of being afraid. I'm tired of letting Nathan and people like him make me feel like I'm less than human.

"Okay," I hear myself say.

River's eyes widen. "Okay?"

"Okay," I repeat, and this time I mean it. "Let's do it. Let's... let's try."

Avery lets out a whoop and throws her arms around me. River joins in, and for a moment we're just a tangle of arms and laughter in a dingy bathroom that smells like paint thinner.

"This Saturday," Avery says when we finally pull apart. "We're going to the mall. All day. And you're going to try on everything until we find stuff that makes you feel like yourself. Not smaller. Not hidden. Just... you."

"And we're going to hype you up so hard," River adds with a grin. "Like, aggressively. You're going to be so sick of us telling you how good you look."

I laugh, and it feels good. It feels real.

"What if it doesn't work?" I ask quietly. "What if I try and nothing changes?"

"Then we try again," River says simply. "But Soph? I don't think that's going to happen. I think once you stop hiding, people are going to see what we've always seen."

"And what's that?"

Avery smiles. "Someone worth knowing."

The bell rings, signaling the end of first period. We all groan and start gathering our stuff.

"You good?" River asks as we head toward the door.

I think about it. Really think about it. Am I good? No. Not yet. But maybe I could be.

"I'm getting there," I say.

And for the first time in a long time, I think I might actually mean it.