"Do you think my outfits are weird?"
Tim looked up from his lunch and came face to face with a dubious Violet. It had been a week since the incident with Joey Bertucci and, after apologies on both sides, their friendship had reformed, though it wasn't quite as happy as it had been. Violet was beginning to see the dark side of high school life.
"I don't know," he said honestly. He wasn't one for clothing and fashion and had no idea what the in styles were at the time. Paint-splattered overalls and plain white T-shirts probably weren't gracing the covers of magazines, though. "Why?"
She frowned as she jabbed at meatloaf on her lunch tray. "I don't know. Some of the girls keep commenting on my clothes, but they giggle about it like they aren't being serious. Like today, Stacey asked me where I got my crocheted poncho. When I told her that Mee-Maw, Emily's grandmother, made it for me, she and her friends just looked at each other and laughed. I think they're making fun of me."
It broke Tim's heart to see Violet's cheery exterior start to crack. He wanted to lie and assure her that no one was mocking her and her unusual wardrobe choices, tell her that Stacey was probably being sincere. But lying wasn't going to help; lies wouldn't make the teasing end. The last thing she needed was for her friend to start lying, even if to spare her feelings. "They probably are. Some girls have this idea that if your clothes aren't seen in fashion magazines, they aren't cool." He took a bite of his own lunch and caught sight of her downtrodden expression. "Don't worry," he assured her. "I mean, who cares what they think anyway?"
She shrugged and poked at her food. "I like my clothes. I just didn't think people would really tease someone for that."
"Around here they'll tease you for anything they can. I think it's a power thing. Like, if they can make you feel like crap, then they can feel better about themselves."
"Well, I think she does like the friendship bracelet Emily made for me," Violet added, a small bit of pride twinkling behind her eyes. "She asked where I got it and didn't laugh when I told her. Then I heard her and her friends talking about how friendship bracelets are really in right now."
Tim had noticed the budding trend around school. However, most of the bracelets the high school girls wore were cheap and amateurish; Violet's looked like it had been purchased from a skilled jewelry maker, the fabrics perfectly braided and the beads painstakingly woven into a beautiful pattern. No doubt such a bracelet would elicit envy from other girls, even if it was being worn by a girl as strange as Violet.
"How are classes going for you?" he asked in an effort to change subjects.
"Okay, I guess. It's just so different here. The teachers aren't very friendly."
"I'm sure it takes some adjusting," he agreed. "But you'll adapt."
"I hope so. I'm supposed to do a history project on the American Revolution with Lori Christensen. She insisted we go to my house to do the project."
Tim winced. No doubt the lackey was hoping to collect more ammunition with which to tease the poor girl.
Violet seemed to have the same idea. "I think she just wants to find more reasons to make fun of me. I guess I'm just being cynical."
"No," he said sadly. "You're probably right. When I had to do a science project with Lance Dreiser, he went around telling everyone about…" He stopped, not wanting to reveal some of his more embarrassing secrets to Violet. "Well, he told them really humiliating things about me."
She reached up and twisted one of her ever-present pigtail braids around her finger, tugging on it as she frowned. Tim had noticed it to be a nervous habit of hers. "I thought I knew everything about high school life. I mean, I knew that bullies were out there and that every school was bound to have bad apples. I just didn't realize how…how abundant they were!" She caught his eyes with a sympathetic look. "I don't know how you've lasted as long as you have without…I don't know…going crazy or something."
"I just learned to keep a low profile. Try not to get noticed."
"I guess."
The bell rang. Lunch had ended and it was time for them to separate. Since meeting Violet, this part of the day had become increasingly harder for Tim. Sitting in a classroom amid a group of his peers, all of whom who were chatting excitedly with their own friends, made each period that much more lonely.
"How is detention going?" she asked as they gathered their things.
Detention hadn't been as bad as he'd thought it would be. The football coach, not wanting to lose his star player for a week, had talked Miss Shaw and Principal Caine into letting Joey off with a warning. Shaw hadn't been pleased, but had been overruled by the Principal. Tim didn't care, though. With Joey at football practice, he didn't have to worry about being ambushed before, during or after the detention period. In fact, he hadn't had a run in with the bully since the previous week. It had been almost heavenly.
"Not too bad," he replied. "My dad isn't happy about the situation. He's really disappointed, but that's nothing new." He flung the bag over his shoulder. "Actually, I think he's more disappointed by the fact that I don't want to fight Joey than by the fact that I got detention. He keeps trying to teach me to fight, but I don't want to learn."
"Why not?"
Violet's question took him by surprise. He'd pegged her for a pacifist, a flower child who thought all problems could be solved through love and harmony. He'd expected her to agree with him that fighting was not the answer.
Catching his shock, Violet amended, "I'm not saying violence is the best way to handle a situation, but I think sometimes it's warranted. I mean, if someone is hitting you, shouldn't you be allowed to fight back and protect yourself?"
"I'm not a good fighter."
"How can you know if you've never tried?"
"I have tried. Maybe not fighting exactly, but two years in gym class and a failed attempt at the wrestling team have shown me that physical strength is not my thing."
She folded her arms. "There's more to fighting than physical strength. Some forms of martial arts teach you how to use your opponent's weight against him."
"You've taken martial arts classes?"
"Well, no, but I've read up on them. A girl can't be too careful, you know."
Her comments pulled a smile from him. She had a point, after all; many points, in fact. When a country is invaded, they don't sit back and allow the enemy troops to push them around; they fight back, even in the most hopeless of situations. Win or lose, their integrity and sense of self-worth depend on them not giving up.
He shook his head. That was all good and well, of course, but Tim was not a country. He was just one man; not even a man—a boy. What could he possibly hope to do?
"Yesterday was my last day of detention," he said, changing the subject. "I was wondering if you wanted to do something after school."
"What kinds of things do you do after school?"
Tim's after school schedule consisted of walking home and sitting in front of his computer until his mother called him down for supper. That didn't sound like the kind of thing you did with a friend, though. "I don't know. We could go catch a movie or just go hang out somewhere."
Her lips curled into a smile. "Okay, that sounds like fun."
He was about to return the smile when movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Joey Bertucci was approaching the duo with a sly smile on his face. No doubt he was looking for payback after his pummeling session had been cut short last week. Tim inhaled and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the punch or the wedgie or whatever was to come.
Nothing did. All he heard was a strangled cry from beside him. He peeked open his eyes and found Violet standing still in her place, her head cast downward. Her shirt, which had been snow white a moment earlier, was now stained with brown and green. A gravy covered slab of turkey lay on the floor below her along with mushy green beans. Joey stood before her, holding his empty lunch tray upside down.
"Oops," he said with a sneer as he and his friends pushed passed them. "My bad."
Tears sprung to her eyes as she looked up at Tim. "I…I need to go clean up," she said in a soft tone. "I'll see you later."
He watched her scurry off to the bathroom. Other students stepped to the side, making a hole for her to rush through. Each watched her pass with a look of amusement.
Tim met up with Violet after his last class. She was standing at her locker, mutely changing out her books. He noticed that her white shirt still bore the telltale brown and green stains. He had a feeling those stains would never come out.
"Ready to go?" he asked. He hoped his voice sounded cheery.
"Yeah," she said in a tone that was anything but cheery, "I just need to get my chemistry book." Her mood was somber, as though a dark rain cloud was hanging over her.
He gently placed a hand upon her shoulder. "Are you okay?"
She nodded unenthusiastically. "I'm fine. It was just a bad day." She hugged her book to her chest, covering the blotches which stained her clothing. "I'm glad today is done with."
"I know the feeling," he agreed. "So I was thinking we could go to the movie theater on Center Street. They only show movies that have been out for months already, but it's cheap and they've got some pretty good flicks there right now."
Violet was distracted, that much Tim could see. But she nodded, saying, "Yeah, that sounds like fun. My mom won't get home until late, so I'd love to have something to do. Fill the time, you know?"
"There's a burger place that has cheap food, so we could grab an early dinner if you--"
"Oink, oink, little piggy!"
The pair turned and saw Joey—surrounded by his usually group of friends—standing nearby, watching them with a smug smile. His thumb held the tip of his nose back, making it look more like a pig's snout. It was very befitting, Tim thought. He knew better than to say that, though.
Joey's hand snapped out and knocked Violet's book from her hand, revealing the ugly stain on the front of her shirt. "I see you got a little messy eating today, Miss Piggy."
"Be careful," one of his friends warned. "She may go off squealing at any minute."
Violet bit her bottom lip. She scooped up the dropped book and pushed past the group of taunting students. Tim followed behind.
"Off to roll in your filth, piggy?" was the question yelled in her direction. She ignored it.
"They've been saying that to me since lunch," she murmured to him. "Someone…someone carved the word 'pig' into my gym locker. I think they poured bacon grease or something into it too."
He winced. No doubt she was being targeted due to her participation in last week's scuffle. Tattling was the worst crime a student could commit against their fellow students; offenders were not let off with a warning. "I'm sorry," he whispered back.
"It's not your fault, Tim."
"They're singling you out because you were trying to help me."
"I should have listened to you when you told me not to get involved." She hugged the book to her chest once again as they exited the school building. "I mentioned the locker vandalism to Coach Peery, but she said they couldn't do anything about it."
To be fair, Tim thought, they probably couldn't without proof of who had done it.
"I've just never seen such…apathy toward other people. I guess I was silly to think this would be the same as the commune."
"It's not silly. You were just optimistic."
"Optimism is silly."
He hated seeing her so cynical, but he couldn't disagree with her. Instead, he slung an arm around her shoulder platonically and led her down the street. "Come on," he said, once again forcing the cheeriness into his voice. "Let's go see a really bad movie and talk all the way through it."
