Journal #2

Millions of feet stampeded through the big brown doors, rusty swing sets that were once empty now upholding two children at a time. “I’m going to get you’s!” and “You’re it’s” echoed through the yard. Lunch boxes grips loosened in return for a space on the bright orange monkey bars. I scuffled around with a trash bag picking up an apple in my path and luckily stumbling upon a juice box. I could hear my heart beating in my ear drums, almost successfully drowning out the cries of my stomach. “Shut up, be strong now”, I whispered to it. Our conversation quickly came to a halt by a sharp pain in my neck, by my foot lay the rock that was thrown, and I immediately regretted entering the yard. “Smelly Rachel, Leave our school nobody likes you!” the red haired boy said. “Yeah leave Ugly!” others echoed. Tears began to stream down my cheeks every teardrop burning more than the other. I ran toward the red doors that read “Bathroom”, doors that never rejected me.

Girls Rule! was inscribed in the bathroom stalls a sign my eyes were too familiar with. These stalls were my shelter, before school and after, protecting me from the dangers that lurked outside them, the main one being hands. Hands that hit, punched and shove, hands that pointed and scorned, hands that blocked the sun, hands that clenched my dreams, hands that I were accustomed to. Pulled from my thoughts, I heard a knock on the door.

“Are you in there Rachel?” through the cracks of the stall stood a pigtail. It began to sway back and forth. “I know you're in there, do you need any help? Why aren’t you answering me? “

“Leave! I don’t need your help, have you came to make fun of me also?” I responded.

“Come out Rachel, or I’m going to get a teacher.” the pig tail was still visible.

I peeked out the door, and a brunette haired girl appeared before me. She wore overalls, ones that were decorated with food she had eaten during lunch. She had on pink sneakers that were covered in dirt that complimented the dirt that covered her palms.

“I heard what those kids said to you, Are they the reasons you have those scars?” she asked, peering down at my legs. “No” I replied,tugging at my dress trying to hide what I thought was well hidden.

“Well, my name is Megan, and nobody messes with any of my friends around here”, she put her arm around my shoulder, an action that was unfamiliar to me. She then smiled at me, revealing a mouth full of crooked teeth and gaps, teeth that would be looked down upon and recommended for change, but to me , Megan's smile was perfection.