The Coldest Winter.

7.

Monday. Finally a good day. I sprang up, ready for school like I've never been ready before. A chance to get the hell out of this place if only for a few hours was more than fine with me. The hardest part about getting ready was my clothes. I didn't have many shirts and pants. I only owned 2 pairs of shoes, and when the time came to buy us more, I was always told there wasn't enough in the budget for me. So I had no choice but to mix and match the 5 pair of jeans with the 4 different shirts I had so no one would notice that much. But to no prevail, the kids at that school still often teased me. I was called dirty, poor, and everything under the sun you could possibly imagine. After while, the teasing died down and it just became the norm to walk past me in the hallway and take a quick glance. I made it a point to not let what the stares and the students said get to me, nobody knew my real situation but my Bestfriend, who offered to lend me some of his clothes but was later thrown away when the wicked witch found out. "You don't need to be accepting no handouts from nobody. Who in they right mind would want to help you?" Her words echoed in my mind as I put on my shoes. I took a quick glance in the mirror and was pleased with my final appearance.
My morning bus ride was smooth as it always was. I often admired the scenery of the run down neighborhood, though it wasn't the prettiest thing to look at, it beat looking at four corners of white concreted paint.
I got off the bus, and met up with Devonté.
"Hey bestfriend." He said as he one armed me all the way to the cafeteria.
Before I could respond back, I took a glimpse of his facial expression and immediately knew what was coming next.
"Where did that nasty scar come from?" He asked worry stretched tightly across his face. He knew I couldn't lie to him, and I was more nervous about what he'd say than telling him a truth he already knew.
He sensed my hesitation to answer.
"Did she hit you, Isaiah?" He stopped, making me face him.
Face shriveled up with the anxiety of wanting to cry since that incident occurred, I broke down in my best friend's arms.
"I'm so sorry, Isaiah. This isn't right."
"Tell me about it." I managed to say in between sobs.
"You oughta tell somebody!" He exclaimed, holding me tighter as he sat me down in a nearby chair.
"Whose gonna believe me? My own cousin didn't even believe me." I said holding my head down further.
"Go to the principal, the guidance counselor. Somebody, I'm worried about you when your not here."
The sincerity in his voice made me want to cry harder, but I knew he was right. What Beatrice was objecting me to wasn't right, when my daddy was around he never treated me like this.
"What do I say?"
"You tell them everything. Don't leave anything out."
I watched as Devonté went to grab his breakfast and mine. Maybe if I talk to somebody, maybe it'll help.