The pen scratched across the margin of the lined page, forming the shape of a heart with the initials B.K. and S.H. in the center. The pen lifted from the paper, leaving yet another doodle on in the notebook. The owner of the notebook flipped to the next page and opened it to last night's homework.

"Okay, class, settle down," said the teacher. "Let's go over the lesson review. First question: How did the discovery of Mobian fossils and tools at Downunda affect existing theories of Mobian migration? Barbara?"

"Uh . . . It showed early Mobians moved to look for tool making materials?"

"Not quite. Ash?"

"I think I got it. It provided additional support for the theory that Mobios sapientus first appeared in the Overland."

"Nope. Anyone have it?"

No one raised their hands.

"Okay, it looks like I'll have to pick someone random. Now, let's see . . . who's not paying attention? Ah! Miss Katba. Can you tell the class the answer?"

Blaze Katba looked up from her notebook. Ugh, I hate when he does that, she thought. Luckily, she had done the reading and notes carefully last night. Advanced World History was no problem for her.

"It potentially placed the first Mobios sapientus in a different location, and much earlier in time, than previously thought."

"Excellent! You have been paying attention. Well done!" the teacher said.

Blaze returned a small smile and bent over her notebook again. She tipped her head to one side and saw Shadow the Hedgehog looking at her. He gave her a thumbs up and mouthed, "Good job."

Blaze returned a smile and mouthed, "Thanks." She turned away and grinned into her notebook.

The rest of world history passed by fairly quickly. The bell rang, and Blaze gathered up her things. She started to head out of the classroom but stopped when she saw Shadow walking over to her.

"Hey Blaze," said Shadow. How're you doing?"

"Uh . . . " Blaze started, rapidly glancing around. Luckily, the room was empty except for the teacher. "I'm . . . pretty good. How're you?" she said cautiously.

"I'm doing good," replied Shadow, smiling at her. "Hey, I just wanted to ask, I hope you don't mind. Has anyone been giving you a hard time as of late?"

Blaze was mildly surprised. She figured it showed in her demeanor. Yeah, thought Blaze. Literally everyone. Despite wishing to tell Shadow this, she wanted to look as good as possible in front of him. "Nah, not really."

Shadow blinked, surprised by the passive nature of her response. "But Blaze, the rumors . . . They're still out, aren't they? I've tried tuning them out, but it's becoming increasingly harder to do so."

Blaze winced. Shit, he knows, she thought. They won't stop! I hope he doesn't believe them . . .

"Eh well, I suppose they are, but there isn't really anything you can do about it," she replied.

Shadow's eyebrows knit together. "There must be something I can do," he suggested.

Blaze shook her head. "You can't control what people think or say," she told him simply.

"But Blaze, people are calling you nasty things. Don't you want them to stop?"

"Yes, but like I said: Truly stopping anyone from thinking or saying anything is impossible. It hurts, but there's nothing you or I or anyone can do."

Shadow slowly nodded, frowning. "Yeah," he agreed. "I don't want you to be right, but you are. I guess."

He slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Well, that's all I really had to say. Take care Blaze," he said, raising his right hand in departure.

"Yeah, you too," Blaze replied, giving him a small wave.

Once Shadow had left the room, Blaze's knees almost gave out, and her breathing became rapid. Oh my God, she thought. I can barely talk to him. I must have sounded idiotic. And the stuff I said about not being able to control others. He probably thinks I'm nuts. Oh God . . . Blaze took a deep breath and exited the history classroom.

Walking through the crowded hallways, Blaze braced herself for a slew of demeaning comments, insults, or whispers about her, but for a while, nothing happened. She almost made it to the stairwell, but stopped when she heard a boy call out, "Hey Katba!"

Blaze slowly turned around, and to her dismay saw a gaggle of junior boys.

"Heard you're a dancer, Katba!" said their ringleader. "Five bucks for a topless round on the flagpole?" The other boys whooped and laughed.

Blaze felt her face flush with embarrassment and anger. "I'm not that kind of dancer!" she shouted angrily.

One of the other boys put on a mask of mock apology and kindness. "Yeah you bastards, she isn't a pole dancer, so don't call her that!" The other boys looked at him with mild confusion. "She's obviously a tabletop go-go dancer! How 'bout ten to shake that thang?"

The other boys laughed, and Blaze turned and stormed off down the stairwell. She heard their voices behind her mocking her.

"What a prude!" "She thinks she's so pure!" "Bet she's actually danced at all the clubs!" "Still couldn't pay me to get with her though, she's not that hot!"

Blaze hurriedly turned the corner out of the stairwell and collided with a girl, sending the two of them sprawling to the ground.

"Sorry!" Blaze cried, scrambling to pick the other girl's books up off the floor. She froze when she saw who the other girl was.

"Claire!" she yelped, in response to Claire's icy stare. "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I—"

"Ugh, get away from me whore!" she shouted in anger

Blaze's mouth fell open, but Claire cut her off. "Save it. I don't associate with unfaithful sluts like you."

A small crowd had formed around Blaze and Claire, and they erupted into laughter and "oohs" when they heard that remark. Blaze pushed her way through the crowd, keeping her head down to avoid being captured further on photo and video.

Blaze violently twisted a lock of hair around her index finger, her standard stress response when she was being harassed. As Blaze passed another group of guys, she heard one yell out, "Hey Blaze, what's your OnlyFans? I've got disposable income!"

"I don't have an OnlyFans!" Blaze shot back. "I don't do sex work!" Why do they always assume I do that sort of thing? she thought bitterly

"Suuuuuurrrrre!" another one jeered. "Betcha her parents are sponsoring it, their broke asses really need the cash you make!"

"Send nudes for me babe?" jeered another.

Blaze ignored them, fighting back tears, and made her way to her last class of the day: 10th grade English. Blaze entered the class reluctantly. Selena Brenig, one of the most popular girls in school (and one of her primary tormentors), was in this class. Blaze sat down in her seat, pulled out her textbook, and out of the corner of her eye saw Selena pull out a model of the most recent iPhone and aim it at her.

Oh, joy. Another appearance on Snapchat. That is surely the cherry on top of the shit sundae today has been, Blaze said to herself.

English passed by quickly, mainly because Blaze couldn't focus on the lesson. As soon as the bell rang, Blaze stuffed her books into her bag and stood up. The next thing she knew, she felt herself racing towards the linoleum floor, and made contact with it. She looked up; standing over her was Selena and her phone.

"Oops," giggled Selena, smirking. She stepped over Blaze, making sure to grind her Prada flip-flops into Blaze's fingers.

Blaze pulled herself up and hurried out of the classroom to head to her afternoon homeroom class. She willed herself to ignore any comments thrown her way, as she was just done with everyone and everything today. She did see people pointing, whispering, and laughing, however, and it still stung. She could never escape it.

It really fucking sucks so much! I hate this so much!

She arrived in room C200, her classroom where homeroom was held. She slumped into a desk and tuned out the announcements her teacher was talking about. It probably wasn't that important anyway and she was trying not to cry.

Finally, after a long 10 minutes, the final bell rang, and Blaze jumped out and raced out of Station Square High School to the carpool entrance. She sat in front of one of the pillars and tried to tune out the surrounding people with State of Fear, her most recent foray into the world of science fiction novels. Surprisingly, it worked. Finally, after ten minutes, her Aunt Monica pulled up in her tan Chevy Impala.

"Hello Blaze," greeted her aunt. "How was school?"

Blaze inhaled deeply. "Fine. Nothing interesting to report," she replied.

Her aunt nodded. "Ready for dance practice? Your bag is in the back."

"Yup."

Blaze stared out the window, watching the trees and other cars pass by. She hadn't told either her aunt or her uncle about what was happening at school, even though it had been happening since the last quarter of her freshman year. Had it not been for summer, she reflected, I probably would be borderline suicidal. Blaze was normally pretty tough, but when the bashing started up again after summer vacation, her tough demeanor quickly crumbled.

After about 15 minutes, Blaze and her aunt pulled up to the Swanson Dance Studio. Blaze grabbed her dance bag out of the car and hurried inside to the dressing rooms, which were luckily empty. She quickly slipped out of her street clothes and into her leotard, tights, and jazz slippers. She also threw on her warm-up sweater and jazz pants before anyone came into the dressing room.

Blaze danced the jazz method of dance, and today she was practicing with her jazz troupe for their upcoming fall recital. She never really liked dancing with the girls at her studio, since she barely knew any of them, and wasn't friends with anyone there. She also had a suspicion that her fellow jazz dancers thought she was weird. However, Blaze didn't dance for the social atmosphere. Blaze loved to dance, and had been dancing jazz method since she was eight.

Blaze hurried into the studio, rolled out her warm-up mat, and began to stretch, ready to take on her instructor's routine.

"Lift . . . 7, 8, 1, 2 . . . hold . . . and pose! Excellent girls, that'll be all tonight. Due to an upcoming family event of mine, Thursday's practice is canceled. See you next week!" Mrs. Gladden's cheerful voice piped up over the ending bars of the upbeat music.

Blaze noisily exhaled and stepped out of the dance's final pose. The ten other girls also broke pose and began to exit the studio, chatting excitedly. Blaze remained silent as she always did, and slipped into her jeans. She threw her warm-up sweater over her leotard, grabbed her dance bag, and hurried out into the lobby to wait for her aunt to pick her up. She didn't like remaining in her leotard after dance practice but hated changing in the dressing rooms, which had zero privacy.

She met up with her aunt, threw her bag into the back of her aunt's car, and hopped into the passenger seat. Except for asking her aunt what was for dinner (broiled chicken and roasted potatoes), she remained silent. She checked Instagram, Facebook, and Snapchat for any updates. There wasn't anything interesting or important. She saw two stories on Snapchat that featured her in it, one just after she collided with Claire Voyance and another in English at the hands of Selena. She sighed.

"Something eating you?," asked Aunt Monica.

"No, I'm just tired is all," Blaze replied, not wishing to divulge her true grievances.

After about 10 minutes, Aunt Monica pulled up at their house. It was a decently sized suburban home, with little to report as interesting. Yet, it was a cozy home, with plenty of space for Blaze and her aunt and uncle. Blaze entered her house by the garage and hurried up to her room. She shut the door, threw her bag on the ground, changed out of her dance apparel and into her sweats, and flopped onto her double bed. She let out a frustrated sigh.

"Ughhhhhh . . . Why is my life falling apart again?" she asked out loud to no one in particular.

She lay on her bed for a few minutes, stewing in her negative emotions. Even though her brain told her not to, she pulled out her phone and opened Twitter while simultaneously getting out her Advanced World History textbook and notebook to do her daily reading. She scrolled through her feed, liking a few of her friends' tweets. She then checked her notifications, and saw she was mentioned in a tweet . . . by Selena Brenig.

Oh no, she thought. She hesitated for a moment before tapping on the notification. The tweet from Selena Brenig read:

oh my god guys, you HAVE to check out my snap story. there's some HILARIOUS shit on there N_Midnight_

Blaze sighed. This was the eighth time she had been tagged by Selena in one of her tweets that showcased her in a negative light. It was humiliating and only fueled the fire for her schoolwide mockery. She was sick of it. Suddenly angry, she tapped on Selena's profile, and tapped "Send Private Message."

Inhaling, she typed out a message for Selena.

Hi Selena, can you stop calling me out in your stupid harassment posts?

Without a second thought, she tapped send. She closed Twitter and started taking notes. Five minutes later, she heard her phone ping. She checked it and saw that Selena had responded to her message. She quickly unlocked her phone and tapped on the notification.

haha

no :)

Blaze felt her face flush in frustration. She tapped out a reply.

Why not? Haven't you gotten enough out of you posting about me on sc?

She stared at her screen as she watched Selena open her message and start replying.

its too funny lollllll

besides, i think all of my followers deserve to know how much of a stupid bitch you are

Blaze felt a knot form in her stomach. She put her phone down and tried to go back to her notes, but couldn't focus with Selena's last message unanswered. She picked up her phone once again and typed out an angry message.

The only bitch here is you Selena

She went back to her notes, feeling even more upset than before. A few minutes fairly unproductive minutes later, she heard her phone chime once more. Robotically picking up her phone, she saw Selena's reply.

and you're a whore

what're you gonna do about it?

Hot tears stung Blaze's eyes. She let her tears of embarrassment and sadness fall silently.

Great. I've embarrassed myself again. I bet she's gonna post this chat on Twitter or Snapchat. Probably Snapchat.

She took a few silent minutes of crying before getting up what little nerve she had left and typing out her reply.

I should report you to the principal

Wiping her eyes, she groaned as she saw Selena swiftly open her message and typing out a reply.

you can't hahaha

everyone will tear you to shreds

and that's a promise

now leave me alone

Feeling sufficiently defeated, Blaze closed Twitter, set her phone to "Do Not Disturb," locked it, and plugged it into to charge.

She's right. Even if I get her, Alysha, and Fiona to stop, no one else will. I can't report the entire student body for harassment.

Blaze sighed and went back to note-taking, trying and failing to erase the memory of the conversation she had just had. Despite this, Blaze pushed through and managed to read eight pages of her textbook before she heard her aunt come upstairs and knock on her door.

"Blaze? It's time to eat."

"I'll be down Auntie," she replied.

After a pleasant dinner with her aunt and uncle, some brief help with dishes, and the completion of her World History notes and other homework, Blaze felt much better. She glanced at her alarm clock, which read 7:47.

I'm gonna see if Silver wants to play Zombies on Black Ops III, she thought.

She hopped onto her gaming PC: her pride and joy. She saved money up from holidays, birthdays, and doing odd chores to buy the PC, and was lucky to have help from her uncle with buying the monitor and other peripherals.

She opened up Discord and checked his status. He happened to be online, so she went to her chat with Silver (or "YeetusMyFeetus") and quickly sent him a message.

hey

wanna play COD?

Black Ops III to be exact

After a moment, she saw Silver enter the chat and respond.

sure

custom zombies, or something else?

Blaze replied with "zombies, " grabbed her headset, and opened up voice chat with Silver.

"Yo Blaze, what's up?" Silver's chill but perky voice asked.

"Uh, well, I haven't exactly had the best day," Blaze admitted. "The usual: bothered for existing, rumors, a run-in with Selena."

"Oh, I'm sorry Blaze," Silver said sympathetically. "Want me to shoot you a bunch of times to ease the pain?"

Blaze felt her eyebrows raise. "I'd rather shoot a bunch of zombies to ease my pain."

"You know what? I respect that."

"Yeah, you better respect me and my feelings, you asshole," Blaze chirped in a joking manner.

"Think you'll actually do alright this time? Last time we played you didn't exactly do great," He laughed. "Might as well have been a zombie."

"Well, you know what they say," Blaze said, opening up Call of Duty: Black Ops III. "Hell hath no fury when a woman is upset." She opened up a private Zombies room and waited for Silver to join.

Silver laughed. "You ready to go? I submitted a pretty good map for us to use."

"Yup," Blaze chimed, entering the round with Silver.

The world then dissolved away as Blaze became engrossed in the bloody cooperative play, mowing down hordes of zombies, laughing, and groaning at losses alongside Silver. In the virtual carnage, Blaze let off steam, laughed alongside Silver, and did some ranting.

"It's just . . . I dunno man. I'm getting sick of the bashing. I can't so much as poke my head into the school or onto my social media without being assaulted with a slew of remarks about how I'm such a slut," Blaze heard herself say as she upgraded her pistol to a far superior shotgun and shot down a zombie that was too close for comfort.

"I'm sick of it too. I can see it really affects you," he replied genuinely. "There's got to be something I or you or anyone else can do."

"Well, I honestly just want the rumors to stop. But that's, like, virtually impossible."

"Even if you tell the staff of the school?"

"Yeah, man. They'd punish Alysha and her posse of bitches, but they can't stop everybody. Besides, I'm sure Alysha and Company would find some way to get back at me if I told on them."

There was a brief moment of silence as Silver focused on trying to stop a massive horde of zombies (he failed), and ran for cover. "So, you think this'll ever end? Or will this just last forever?"

Blaze paused and sighed. "I honestly don't know at this point. It might. I might end up graduating as 'the cat that fucked the football team' or something fucking stupid like that." She could feel her throat begin to tighten ever so slightly and took a deep breath to steady herself.

Silver sighed into his mike, crackling through Blaze's headset. "Blaze . . . " he began.

"Yeah Silver?"

She heard Silver trail off suddenly. "Nevermind," he replied.

The two of them played in silence for a few moments before Blaze's avatar on-screen collapsed in a virtual pool of blood, eliciting a loud "FUCK" from Blaze.

"Aah, hold on Blaze, I'm coming to revive you, I'll be there in a sec—"

There was a brief pause on Silver's end, followed by loud swearing. The screen went dark and said, "Round Over."

"Shit! Sorry, Blaze! I just got jumped by a crowd of 'em. I promise I was coming to revive you."

"Nooooooo, we were doing so good!" whined Blaze. "Goddamnit."

The screen flashed to show the game's stats. Under the "Kills" column, the stats screen stated that Blaze had received 78 kills, and Silver had received 80.

"Dammit, you beat me again in number of kills," Blaze lamented.

"Haha! Beat that, bitch!" Silver shouted triumphantly. "I told you you couldn't beat my stats!"

"Oh shut the hell up you dick. The only reason you beat me, by only two kills might I add, is cause you got lucky! I'm gonna kick your ass next round!" Blaze retorted.

The two of them shared a brief moment of laughter and trash-talking, and Blaze felt a rush of warm happiness come over her at that moment.

"Silver?"

"Yeah, Blaze?"

"Thanks for being such a good friend Silver. I'm sorry I always manage to make our conversations about me ranting about my problems and—"

"Stop right there Blaze," Silver replied. "It's . . . it's okay. It really is. And, uh, no problem at all. Y'know, in regards to the good friend thing."

Blaze smiled to herself. "Thanks again you doof."

The two of them played a few more rounds with varying successes before Blaze glanced at the clock on her computer, which read 10:51.

"I gotta get to bed," Blaze stated after their last round ended.

"Alright," replied Silver. "See you soon?"

"Yeah, lunch tomorrow."

"Okay cool. Take care Blaze," Silver said.

"You too!" Blaze said cheerily, before disconnecting from the voice chat.

Blaze yawned and stretched, put her computer into hibernate mode, and stepped away from it. She glanced at her alarm clock on her end table.

Damn, it's almost eleven. I should get to bed.

Blaze was already in her sleeping pair of sweats, so she headed to her bathroom to wash her face, brush her teeth, and comb her hair. On her way to her bed, she glanced at her reflection in her full-length mirror.

Ugh, she sighed. I wish I wasn't so goddamn . . . how do I describe it . . . oh yeah, curvy. I should be a lot slimmer since I dance. Maybe if I was just a bit skinnier, people wouldn't call me a slut. I've tried dieting, but nothing really works. She sighed again. Maybe I'm just stuck this way . . .

Shaking her head in resignation, Blaze climbed into bed, picked up State of Fear, and read until she couldn't keep her eyes open (about 30 minutes) before curling up under her comforter and falling asleep.

⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤ END ⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤