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Chapter 5My Name Is...
It’s the end of November and that means it’s finally almost Christmas. It’s just a normal cold morning when I walk in, but something doesn’t seem right. It’s like the world is darker today. The world seems a lot larger today. I feel so small. I sit down in my normal spot on the bleachers and close my eyes. I’ve tried so hard to rebel against the group. They always, always win.
I wait for Drew. Ever since she’s apologized, I’ve forgiven her. She hasn’t called me Fay since. She hasn’t hurt me since then. Maybe she is as sensitive as me. Maybe she could feel my pain… That would involve opening up though. That would involve revealing everything. She walks in. Whatever thoughts I had of her before had quickly disappeared. She sits next to me. “Lydia,” she says hesitantly.
“Um,” she whispers. “My dad wants to sell the house.”
I can’t focus on anything
Chapter 3My Name Is...
The end of the school year eventually starts blending into the beginning of this one. There was no in between. It feels as though summer vacation never happened. Short spurts of memories come into my head when I think of the end of the year. Nicki would get aggressive and pull peoples’ hair for no reason. She never pulled my hair. Alyssa invited me to her birthday; she ended up crying because Nicki started a fight. I remember staying up late until everyone was asleep, and then someone moved. They sat near the steps, silent. I sat up slowly and whispered with a slight slur, “It’s like this at every place I go to.”
The girl turned to me. “It seems like someone cries every single time.”
Sudden exhaustion washed over me and I laid back down, closing my eyes and falling asleep. That was the final memory. Now, I guess the past has caught up to me. It’s blending into today.
6th grade: 11 and 12 years old
Today, we started playing floor h
Chapter 2My Name Is...
This is shocking to say the least. Drew, the only one who has never hurt me, has started calling me Fay. She’s done it for almost a week. I go numb when I hear that name come out of her mouth. Why don’t you just slap a sign on my back saying “Stab me?” “Stab me. C’mon, I am vulnerable.”
I laugh it off though, like I’ve done with Colleen, Leah and Lynzee for a year. I laugh at their “jokes.” I act like I don’t hear them behind my back. I act like it’s nothing, because to them it is nothing.
So why does my smile cut open my cheeks when I laugh it off for them? Why does my smile seem even more false? Why does my chest hurt when I laugh it off? Is it anger or sadness? My wrists are stinging. I glance at them, my pale skin making them seem so soft and bare. What was I thinking? I run a hand through my messy hair and blink away the cloudiness of my eyes. It’s just a joke. There’s nothing to be u
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