Permanent Scars

What They Said, What They Did (Scatterbrain 1.3)

October 21, Tuesday. 1:03 p.m.

My back has been aching so horribly from carrying my backpack to and from school, not to mention all the repairs I've made on the house recently. That horrible cough has started to subside, and overall I'm feeling so much better. Things that haven't changed are my lack of appetite, and the constant fatigue I've been experiencing since I first got sick. But it's not just a weary body I'm dealing with—it's a weary mind, too. Going to school has taken a lot out of me, and I never expected it to, especially since it was only my second day back.

   Today I can't stand the thought of eating anything, and as a result I've made an excuse to get away from the table and wait for the boys near our lockers. However, this has proven to be a bad idea, for a few of my enemies noticed and decided to follow me, insisting that it'd been awhile since we'd had a "chat."

Honestly, I could do without seeing them for the rest of my life.

   Smugly, the two girls sidle up to me.

   "Hello, Queen Hideous. Are those freckles new? I swear ten of them weren't there yesterday!"

   I push my back against my locker, hanging my head. Brii Holderson, Vickie's wingwoman, flips her wavy red hair around as she and Meryl—her bestie—pelt me with insults.

   Not sure when it became a thing, but lately they seem to think I'm trying to be pretty just because I have Adam for a best friend, and because I hang out with the guys a lot.

   "Face it, Amber," jeers snotty Meryl Vladenski, rapidly chewing gum and blowing a massive bubble. "You'll never be pretty. Stop hanging with Adam. He doesn't really care about you anyhow. Don't give us your crappy excuses, either. He just lets you hang on cuz he's a famous weirdo. He probably isn't aware you even exist for all we know."

   It's amazing how small you can make someone feel just by using words. If I wasn't so determined to keep my life out of people's hands, I would tell Adam about the bullying. I would ask him how people can stand to talk so horribly; how they can bear to belittle people like me who hardly have any family left.

   "Adam knows I exist. He doesn't care how ugly I am. He's my friend."

   "He's your caretaker," scoffed Brii, scornfully. "I've watched him and all he does is treat you like you're a special needs child. When he's here, that is. Is that why the teachers let you into our school? Because you're special? It can't be because of your daddy, can it?"

   I hate how they have taken my dad's profession and turned it into some massive problem. Sure, what he does is frowned upon by many, but it's not like I can help it and he's actually doing the right thing. Nobody needs to give me problems about that.

   They've also taken to calling me "orphan", since Daddy is has not been an active participant in the past few years of my life. They think it gives them an excuse to treat me like I'm not even a human being. Because they know I have nobody to go to, which keeps their malevolence safe.

   Part of me wants to bring the girls' crimes to light, but I don't trust anyone enough—not even Adam. He has enough on his plate without having to worry about me.

   "It has nothing to do with my dad," I whispered in protest, feeling so weak and small compared to them. "Adam is my friend."

   "Some friend," the girls snort in unison.

   I love Adam. He's my best friend in the whole world—like a brother, more than anything. He's been here for me when everyone else decided I was worthy of being an outcast. He took me under his wing when I was new and scared and confused. Sure, he's kind of dysfunctional at times. Kind of has a colorful past. Despite all that, he's loyal and kind—the best type of friend anyone could ever ask for. But for some reason, people don't seem to respect that very much.