Two months later
Only three days longer. Just three days, I think to myself as I shove my books in my trashed locker.
Someone—or I guess multiple someones—decided to stick about a dozen bubble gums all over it. I am careful to avoid the sticky parts as I shut the door and lock it. At least all my stuff survived undamaged this time.
I walk down the hall toward the school exit, my head hung low to avoid attention.
I should have known it wouldn't be that easy.
A group of sniggering students passes me by, and I listen to them whisper loud enough for me to hear, "Slut!"
My usual nickname these days. Along with "ugly b***h" and "reject."
I hear the sound too late to avoid the wet, sticky spit splattering across my cheek.
Well, this is a new low.
I duck my head and wipe it with my
