Carrie Wells parked her navy blue F-150 outside of Brandbury High. She pulled her wavy red hair into its usual messy ponytail, and faced the start of her sophomore year. She silently hoped that she could be anonymous this year, but that hope was crushed when Tara Starr stood in front of her, blocking her locker.
Tara Starr was the queen of Brandbury High. She was a cheerleader with perfect blonde hair, perfect clothes, and above-average grades. Before Carrie had transferred here as a freshman, Tara Starr had been considered the best, taking AP classes in everything. But then Carrie had taken the entrance exam, and had scored so high that she was put in sophomore AP classes for the first semester. After excelling there, she was bumped up to junior AP for the rest of the year. Tara was furious, and had started to bully Carrie every chance she got. Carrie's only refuge was her higher-level classes, where the older students pretty much ignored her.
Tara stood before Carrie, hands on hips. "The loser's trying to get to her locker. Should I let her?" After various cheerleaders laugh, Tara steps out of the way and shoves Carrie into the lockers. Carrie's cheek hit the metal hard; she was going to have a bruise tomorrow. Tara and her posse cackled as Carrie slowly rose and entered her combination. As soon as the door was open, Tara slammed it shut, forcing Carrie to open it again. On it went until the first bell rang, and Tara flounced off to class. Carrie hurriedly opened her locker, grabbed the essentials, and headed to her first class.
Carrie slid into a seat in the back just as the second bell rang. The teacher stood and introduced himself. "Hello, I'm Mr. Elner, and welcome to senior AP Chemistry. Today, you are going to receive your lab partners. Yes, these are assigned by me. Yes, they are year-long." Some seniors groaned. Mr. Elner clapped his hands twice. "Now, please retrieve the note card taped to the bottom of your chair. It contains a number, one through sixteen. The lab tables are numbered," he gestured to the numbers. "Go to the table whose number you received." Carrie's card contained the number nine, so she headed to table nine.
After making his speech, Mr. Elner went to copy some papers. Just before Carrie reached her table, she tripped over a stilettoed foot. Tara's older sister Carissa sneered at her. "Watch where you're going, stupid sophomore." Carrie got up, rubbing her stinging hands on her jeans. She sat at table nine quietly, hoping Carissa would lose interest in her soon. She glanced up as Mr. Elner re-entered the room, and a dark-haired boy sat beside her. The teacher clapped his hands once more, and told them that they were to get to know their lab partner for the rest of the class. The boy beside her turned to her. "Hi. I'm Al Burns. And you are?..." he questioned. Carrie held out her hand. "Carrie Wells." They shook. "So...you're a sophomore?" She nodded. "Wow. You must be really smart to be in a senior AP class." Carrie shrugged. "Well, you're not very talkative. So, about me. My real name's Albert, but I go by Al. I'll eat anything edible. I have a dog and two cats. My favorite color's blue and I have three older brothers. Now it's your turn." Carrie smiled a little. "My favorite food is chicken alfredo. No pets, only child, and my favorite color is purple." They bantered back and forth for the rest of class. As Carrie left, she wondered if she'd just made a friend.
Her next three classes passed uneventfully. Then lunch came. Carrie nervously grabbed a tray in the lunch line, not sure where she was going to sit. She got her serving of spaghetti and slowly walked down the middle of the cafeteria. Partway down, Al waved her over. She smiled, relieved. As she neared the table, she noticed Tara walking towards her...and the next thing she knew, she was full of spaghetti. Tara looked at her innocently. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Carrie! I didn't mean to. I tripped." Carrie's eyes filled with tears as she fled.
After ten minutes, Carrie figured she had cleaned off all she could. She threw away the paper towels, drew in a deep breath, and went to class.
So that's pretty much how Carrie's next seventy-three days of school went. Her one bright spot was AP Chem, where she and Al were becoming friends. As Carrie readied herself for her seventy-fifth day of school, she felt that something would change today. As she stepped out of her truck at school, Tara was waiting for her, along with the rest of the cheerleaders. Tara immediately shoved Carrie into her truck. Luckily, she caught the edge of the box to prevent herself from falling. But then Tara pushed her to the ground. Carrie hissed in pain as her palms struck the pavement. She tried to get up, but Tara wouldn't let her. She kept her down, taunting her all the while. "You think you're so much better than everyone else. But news flash! You. Are. Not!" Tara said to Carrie Carrie worked up the courage to say, "You're not talking about me, you're talking about yourself," earning her a hard slap.
Just then, Al arrived at school. He saw the group by Carrie's truck, and hurried towards them. As he got closer, he heard Tara yell at Carrie and Carrie sass back. He smiled, but then started running as Tara slapped her hard. He pushed through the circle and helped Carrie get up. Tara gave him a sneer. "And who are you?" He snapped back, "Carrie's lab partner in Chem. A class that's above you, sophomore." Tara's eyes narrowed.
Al got Carrie safely inside the school, and led her in the direction of the principal's office. Carrie refused to go in. "I'll be fine!" she exclaimed. "It's no big deal!" "No big deal?!" Al shot back. "They hurt you!" he gestured to her bleeding hands. "No," Carrie said. "And that's final." Al sighed. "At least let me help you clean up." Carrie nodded. They headed down to the nurse's office. Since it was only 7:30, them had a half-hour to clean her up. They started with her hands. Carrie bit her lip hard as Al poured peroxide over them and bandaged them up. "You can still use them, but be careful," he told her. Fifteen minutes later, Carrie's hands and knees were bandaged and ready to go. "Thanks," Carrie told Al. Al, in turn, insisted she give him a copy of her schedule. Confused, Carrie did so.
By the end of her second class, she knew why. Al wanted to walk her to her classes. She smiled a little, but told him she could handle herself. He still persisted, sitting by her at lunch and walking her to her truck.
The next morning, Carrie decided she'd had enough. She let down her hair from its usual ponytail, and donned skinny jeans, her favorite AC/DC shirt, and a leather jacket. Today, she'd fight back. She got to school early, so Al wasn't there yet. But Tara was. Tara stalked over to Carrie and slapped her. Carrie punched her in the face and walked away. Judging by the look of utter shock on Tara's face, she wasn't going to follow her.
When Al arrived, he was surprised to see Carrie sitting on her tailgate, waving him over. His eyebrows rose at her shirt/jacket combo. "Are you the same Carrie from before?" he joked, making her laugh. "Guess what? I punched Tara in the face, and she hasn't even approached me for fifteen minutes. I don't think she's going to." Al's face broke into a grin. "You did?! I don't think she's gonna bother you anymore." Carrie hopped off the tailgate and gave him a hug. "Thank you for giving me the courage to stand up to her. I couldn't have done it without you."
