Secret Self

[1] - She is Samantha Hartwells

Sam's POV

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"MOVE NERD!" I heard someone shout as I try to leisurely walk to third period.

Suddenly, I fall to the ground with a large crash. Meanwhile, the contents of my bag scatter through the hall just to get pummeled, kicked and squished by all the legs passing by. The legs are most likely attached to big mouths because I can hear their cackling from my place on the ground.

Can they at least try to insult me discreetly?

As I begin to pick up my stuff, the tardy bell rings. I already know that I would have been doomed if my third period teacher wasn't so caring towards me.

I finish picking up my stuff and organizing it. The perfectionist in me seems to desperately want detention.

Sprinting to my full ability and rushing into the room just caused everyone to stare at me. I already expected it but it's still annoying.

"Well, if it isn't my lovely student! Sam! Please try to make it on time tomorrow. Meet me after class. I have a few things to discuss with you," Mrs. Peters says quite loudly and a little too happily for my taste.

As she finishes the last part I could already hear all the whispered rumors spread throughout the class. They all know that I am constantly fighting against the entire student body just to get through the hall. I have no idea why they would even bother to spread something completely unbelievable.

Such as:

"She was probably sucking face with a desperate boy!"

"She probably killed another student and went to hide the body!"

"She was totally with a teacher! It's probably how she keeps her grades up!"

That last one nearly got a reaction out of me. I work so much more on one subject than they will in their entire life.

I simply ignore them as always and nod politely to Mrs. Peters. She undoubtedly heard those remarks.

I sat at the back of the class; in the corner; near a window. Like I always do.

This class went by way too slowly.

-=+=-

The bell rang to dismiss us. Just before all the students bolted out of the room, Mrs. Peters managed to yell, "Finish those essays by Friday!"

Many of them groaned at the reminder and continued to rush out of the classroom.

Unlike them, I took my time. One, because I know that I shouldn't get caught in that herd of pimpled, savage beasts. Two, because I know Mrs. Peters wants to talk to me.

"What was it this time Sammy?" Mrs. Peters says very sweetly.

Mrs. Peters was about as intimidating as a mouse. Not a rat, a mouse. She has brown hair that has every shade of the color. It's a lighter shade toward her ends and a darker shade starting from her roots; it kind of looked like a chocolate waterfall. She had a few grays popping up, but it didn't take away from her beauty at all. She also had slightly tanned skin and a rounded nose. She emitted a motherly aura, even if you have never met or talked to her before.

I sigh and respond, "Just the usual, you know. Someone tripped me in the hall and I had to clean up the mess made by them."

She sighs like I did and nods knowingly. "I'm sorry that I can't help you at all with this. I would, but you know that all these kids' parents won't believe that their 'precious' and 'innocent' children are bullying another student. Especially when I don't have solid proof and haven't seen it happen for myself."