Yeah, it's been a minute. But as a consolation, the next chapter is written. So look for that maybe sometime next week.
Thank you once again to my lovely reviewers.
Morrowsong - Reves is probably the most polarizing character of the whole story. (Next to Mark, I'd say.) People either love her or they hate her.
Idcam - Aww, I kind of like Dr. Delinky's character. Did she overstep a boundary by bringing up stuff that Heather clearly wasn't ready to talk about? Yes, but she does have good intentions here. We, as the reader understand Kevin's intentions and inner conflict. She doesn't. And realistically, she is not telling Heather anything that any sane and normal adult would not.
Today was Heather's first day returning to school. To say that she was apprehensive would have been an understatement. Regardless, she had come to this resolve, therefore she knew she must see it through.
Heather had awoken early in order to prepare for the day. After her shower, she arranged her hair into two braided pigtails and began to dress. It seemed her school had adopted a uniform policy over the summer. Heather opted for a black knee-length jumper dress with the school's logo embroidered on the left side, over a white polo-style shirt. Underneath the dress, she wore black leggings and her newer Converse.
She was aware that she would likely be the only one wearing a dress as opposed to the skirts that were sanctioned but she found that she was hardly concerned. She pondered only briefly whether it made her appear as an elementary student as opposed to a high school senior. She couldn't find it within her to care much about that either.
Seated on a barstool at the kitchen counter, Heather was counting down the seconds until she could depart. Her mother was hounding her about eating something, and Heather was refusing in the most amiable manner possible.
"That's why all your uniforms came from the little girl's section," Reves teased her.
"That is false," Heather retorted. She sent an indignant glare in her sister's direction, but her visage assumed its trademark crimson mantle.
"Reves, leave her alone," Sara scolded the older girl. "And you better hurry up. Remember the high school is in the opposite direction of the college."
Reves had gone back to taking in-person classes now that they were no longer traveling. It was part of some sort of bargain she had struck with their father, although they were in no way on more civil terms.
"My apologies, mother. Jeremiah is to be picking me up. We are to travel to school together," Heather corrected her mother.
"That's right. You did say that. Sorry, you and Jeremiah haven't been hanging out as much as you used to," Sara replied.
"Yes," Heather responded sheepishly, "I hope to remedy that."
"Well, that's wonderful, Honey," Sara smiled at her daughter.
"Alright then. If you don't need my services, dork. I'm out," Reves cut in as she slipped off the stool and put her mug in the sink. "Good luck in that hellhole. Seriously, why don't you just think about getting a GED or whatever?"
Heather sneered and scoffed at her as though it were the most lowbrow thing she could do. "As if I would ever entertain such a ridiculous conception."
"Whatever. Bye," the young blond shrugged and walked out in her usual flippant manner.
Heather suddenly felt awkward being left solely with her mother. Slowly sliding down from her own stool, Heather swiftly decided that she would rather wait outside for fear of giving her mother an invitation to make too many inquiries. "I believe I shall wait on the porch for Jeremiah so that he does not have to come inside. I would hate for us to be late on my first day," Heather uttered as she gathered her black backpack and began to head out of the kitchen.
"Heather," her mother called after her in a firm voice.
"Y-yes, Ma'am," Heather swiftly pivoted on her heels.
"Have a good day, Sweetie," Sara smiled at her, before depositing a kiss on her forehead. "This will be good for you. You deserve to have some fun. And don't worry if your dad wants to be a grump, okay?" Sara rubbed her shoulders as if she were trying just as hard to convince herself everything would be alright.
"Okay, Mom," Heather nodded, battling the urge to roll her eyes at the mere mention of Daddy Deadman, as Reves liked to call him. She turned away and bustled towards the front door, feeling only a twinge of guilt when she feigned not hearing her mother say, "I love you."
Heather stepped out of the front door and her shoulders sagged. Fortunately, she didn't have much time to ruminate on the exchange as she saw Jeremiah's car heading up the driveway. She bounced anxiously on her heels as the vehicle came to a halt in front of the steps.
"Hey, pretty stranger. Need a ride?" Jeremiah called to her through the open window.
"Don't worry! He totally doesn't say that to all the girls he picks up," a voice tilled as Jazzy's head of tight, springy curls popped out of the window of the backseat.
Heather flashed a quick grin at the pair; to her surprise a genuine grin, before scurrying off the porch and getting in. In truth, it had been so very long since she had interacted with the De Sanchez family.
"Good morning to you both," Heather addressed Jeremiah and Jazzy. "Are you excited for this year's academic endeavors?" Heather questioned shyly, attempting not to sound too eager as she buckled her seat belt.
Jazzy groaned and fell back in her seat.
Jeremiah chuckled at that as they were pulling away from the Calaway's ranch. "Not really. But you seem chipper enough for all of us. How have you been, Snow?"
Any bit of enthusiasm Heather had was deflated once the realization dawned on her of exactly how long it had been since she had spent any length of time with her dear friend; not since the family's Independence Day gathering. Yes, Jeremiah and Jazzy had called on her a few times, but she never entertained them at any great length and refused to go out.
Hands in her lap, Heather stared down at them as she battled her tears. She did not want to be crying before school.
Jeremiah picked up on her despondency. "Hey, what's wrong," he asked.
"I'm sorry, Miah," she whispered meekly.
Jeremiah was confused. "For what?"
"For the way, I've treated you for the past several months. I've neglected our friendship and I feel wretched about it," Heather confessed.
"It's okay." He reached over to grab her hand. "I can't lie and say I didn't feel a little put out, but I know you were going through some shit. We're good. Right?"
Heather smiled timidly as a blush crept into her cheeks and she nodded.
They hadn't talked a whole lot about Heather's mental state as of late. But Jeremiah knew it was a sensitive topic which is why he was floored when Heather called him last week and told him she was going to go back to school. He had always figured that was the last place she would want to go and he knew her parents had plenty of money to send her elsewhere if she wanted.
"Ooooh, look at you two holding hands!" the younger girl in the back sing-songed.
Jazzy's teasing broke both their thoughts, but neither of them let go.
Heather's mantle deepened even further.
"Hush you. Or I'll blast the Cats soundtrack as I drop you off," Jeremiah threatened his sister, playfully.
"You wouldn't dare," Jazzy moaned dramatically.
That made Heather giggle although she tried to suppress it.
"I would. And Heather is going to sing along with me, aren't you?" He grinned, looking over at his friend.
"I'm afraid I don't know all the words," Heather admitted.
"Well, that's a shame. Allow me to educate you," Jeremiah chirped as he released Heather's hand to reach for the radio.
"Nooo!" Jazzy cried.
Jeremiah dropped his hand. "Oh alright. I'll spare you, I suppose."
"Thank God," Jazzy said with relief.
They had now arrived at Jazzy's middle school and pulled into the drop-off lane.
"Alright, squirt. End of the line," Jeremiah told her.
"Hey! I'm not a squirt, darn it," Jazzy griped.
"Sure you aren't," Jeremiah said sarcastically. "Have a good day. Love ya."
"Yeah, yeah," Jazzy rolled her eyes before muttering, "Love ya."
"Have a wonderful day at school, Jazzy," Heather said to her with sincerity.
"Yeah. Have a good first day at the torture chamber, I guess," the younger girl grumbled. Jazzy got out of the car and then pivoted on her heels. "Will you come over after school?" Jazzy asked Heather.
"We shall see," Heather gave a faint smile before the car was ushered along by a staff member.
It was only a few minutes drive from the middle school to the high school. When Heather took this into account, the recognition that she may have made a grave mistake dawned on her. Too little, too late, she acknowledged as her stomach coiled into tight knots.
Before she knew it, they were pulling into the student parking lot of Waltrip High School. Heather attempted to save face despite her apprehension, but it seemed to be radiating off of her.
Her state certainly didn't go unnoticed by Jeremiah. "Nervous?" he asked. He had a smile on his face, attempting to put her at ease, but there was concern in his voice.
"Like marching to the gallows," Heather attempted sarcasm, but admittedly, she felt all too serious in her words.
Her stomach tangled further as she reached for the door handle, only vaguely aware of her trembling hand. At the present moment, Heather was calling into question every decision she had made within the past week while she watched her fellow classmates milling about in their clean and tidy uniforms.
As they exited the vehicle, Heather took in Jeremiah as he came around the car to her side. It was odd to say the least, witnessing him in slacks and a collared polo with dress shoes. Usually, she saw him in Dr. Martin's, dark jeans and a band tee shirt. His long dreadlocks were pulled back and secured behind his head. That was odd as well, but at least they hadn't forced him to cut them, unlike some establishments.
Heather wasn't allotted much more time to think on it. She blushed and dropped her gaze when she realized he must have been observing her in much the same manner.
"Jeremiah, can you tell me? Does my appearance suit?" she questioned apprehensively. Heather tugged down the hem of her dress, feeling too exposed although she was wearing leggings as well. She felt vain and shallow for inquiring, but somehow it seemed to be of greater importance than before.
"Are you asking if you look okay? I mean yeah if I wasn't..." his voice trailed off when he saw her face flare with the crimson glow. Jeremiah chuckled to himself. "You look great. Don't stress too much, okay?"
Heather nodded. She felt as if that were simple for him, but said nothing further as they began walking towards the open gates. Heather needed to visit the office to receive her schedule for this semester.
As they made their way towards the office, Heather bent her head attempting to pass undetected. A few of her fellow classmates did recognize her and gawked or even started whispering. The regret immediately sank into the pit of Heather's stomach.
"Hi, can I help you?" the woman asked as they entered.
Heather did not recognize the woman. Therefore she deduced that she must be a new faculty member.
"Hello. Good morning," Heather greeted her politely as she stepped to the desk. "I have an engagement to meet with the school counselor, Ms. Kern, regarding my forthcoming class schedule."
The woman gave Heather an odd sort of look before smiling and replying, "Have a seat. I'll ring her."
Heather would have turned to Jeremiah and inquired whether something was amiss, but she was all too familiar with the expression. It was that tight-lipped, yet too courteous to be impolite, expression that asked, "What is your malfunction exactly? Why don't you sound normal like the other kids?"
Heather ignored that meditation as the heat rose up in her cheeks and she took a seat in one of the gray chairs that lined the wall.
A few minutes later, the guidance counselor, Ms. Kern appeared from her office down the hall. "Miss Calaway," the woman greeted Heather, "it's lovely to see you back."
"It is quite lovely to have returned. I am quite eager for my academic journey this year," Heather replied, though only the latter half of her statement was true.
"I'm glad to hear it," the woman smiled briefly before turning her gaze to Jeremiah with a curious expression. "May I help you, Mr. De Sanchez?"
"I'm good. I'm just waiting for Heather," her friend spoke casually with a shrug of his shoulders.
"I'm sure she is plenty capable," the woman told him. "You may head on to class."
Jeremiah frowned, but mumbled a "Yes, Ma'am." He gave a small wave to Heather before sauntering out of the office. He knew better than to disrespect a faculty member, otherwise, his mama would have his ass.
"Let's go to my office, Miss Calaway and I'll get you your schedule," the woman ushered her along down the hall and Heather followed.
Entering the office, Heather took a seat in a chair placed in front of the desk, while Ms. Kern took her position behind it. The woman reached toward the printer and handed Heather the piece of paper that was resting in the output tray.
An unanticipated excitement coursed through Heather's veins as she read her schedule. However, it was an excitement that rapidly shifted to dread. A frown marred the girl's features as she reread the class slotted for her third period: Physical Education.
"Ms. Kern, my apologies, but I have already completed all of my required Physical Education credits," as Heather spoke she struggled to keep the alarm out of her voice. "I was only required to complete a single semester of Physical Education, with the other, being substituted for my assistance in the library. If you recall, it was you who had signed off on the necessary waiver."
Heather's mind began to race with flashbacks of last year. Being accosted in the locker room. The shame. The humiliation. She had indeed made a grave mistake. She knew that for certain now. Yet, it was far too late, and she had no one but herself to blame.
"Yes, I recall, and I'm sorry," the woman stated, only half sympathetic. "The state school board held a meeting over the summer and changed some of the credit requirements for graduation. If you don't attend, you don't graduate," she declared in a rather taciturn manner.
Heather bit her lip as the tears welled in her eyes. The woman may as well have ejected her right there. Of any torment she fooled herself into believing she could endure, it wasn't this one.
"Yes," Heather mumbled before forcing herself to say, "Yes, I understand." She didn't attempt to feign a smile. She knew the disappointment was evident in her voice. Perhaps there was yet a way to overturn such a ruling, but this was not the time. "If there is nothing else I'll be heading to class now." Heather stood and gathered her belongings, eager to quit the office.
To her relief the woman dismissed her. "That should be it for now. But let me know if you need anything else," Ms. Kern smiled, but it did not feel like a genuine invitation at all.
"Certainly. I thank you," Heather bent her head in acknowledgment before she turned to exit.
Jeremiah hadn't headed on to class but rather was loitering just outside the main office door. "So what do you have?" he asked with anticipation, causing Heather to jump before she realized it was him.
"It's horrendous," Heather replied despondently.
Jeremiah grimaced at the shift in her disposition from a few minutes ago. Yeah, she was nervous, but now she seemed downright bummed. "Can't be that bad, can it?" Jeremiah questioned as they began down the walkway.
Heather remained silent but surrendered the slip of paper.
Jeremiah read over her schedule. "Hey, we have AP Lit and Sociology together," he stated cheerily. "What's so bad about that?" He looked at her quizzically.
"Yes, that is wonderful. Truly it is. Yet, while I hate to put a damper on the excitement, it is my third period that is cause for concern.
"P.E." Jeremiah stated with indifference as well as confusion. He knew Heather was not the most athletic, but he was failing to see what was so horrible.
"This is something akin to my worst nightmare. So many wretched memories," the girl lamented.
It was then that her friend came to understand her conundrum, knowing of her plight from last year. "I see," Jeremiah acknowledged. "Couldn't you just ask Ms. Kern to change it?" he questioned.
"Of course I had, but she extrapolated about a new regulation set forth by the state school board," she informed him.
Jeremiah stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and she turned to face him. "Hey, don't stress. Everything's going to be fine. Don't worry about last year. That's done. Let's have an awesome Senior year together. You really deserve it."
"That goal may be quite effortless for you. Unlike myself, you are charming and affable and everyone is drawn to you," Heather grinned up at him despite her self-depreciation.
"Careful. If you keep telling me that, then I might start to believe you," Jeremiah playfully nudged her shoulder.
Just then the first bell rang, signaling students that they should begin heading to class. Jeremiah insisted on walking Heather to homeroom although she knew the location of the class. She argued that he may very well be late for his own class but he didn't seem to be concerned. Nevertheless, Heather was grateful and truth be told, she wished Jeremiah could share every lesson with her. It would certainly put her mind at ease to have the constant presence of a familiar face.
By mid-day, Heather was already feeling emotionally drained. Her first and second periods had mercifully passed rather uneventfully. Albeit a few whispers and stares, she actually quite enjoyed them. Third period, as she suspected was a nightmare.
By rather unfortunate circumstances she was placed in the same gym period as Brittany Bedson and the rest of her lackeys. Heather's saving grace - at least for today- was that her P.E. uniform had not been ordered yet. Unable to participate, Heather spent the period sidelined on the bleachers, which suited her just fine. She had only wished she had her trigonometry book so that she may get a leg up on her homework.
With nothing to occupy her time, Heather couldn't help but be acutely aware of the stabbing glower that was coming from Brittany as she stood in the court of the gymnasium. Heather endeavored not to allow it to bother her, but she could see the disdain etched onto the blonde's pinched expression. Heather could practically sense it permeating off of her. Heather wished to avoid her at all cost and now here they were, in the same gym class.
Heather heaved a despondent sigh. Perhaps she could go to Ms. Kern and beseech her to change her physical education period?
At lunch, Heather's appetite was still absent (an issue that she knew was probably cause for concern, but she willed the thoughts away for now). She had forgotten how atrocious school cafeteria food could be and she didn't bring anything else with her. She took one apple, only vaguely disappointed that it was a Macintosh as opposed to her favorite, Granny Smith. She did have some change on her person so she decided she would get a soda from the vending machine as well. She only took a moment to contemplate the fallacy of offering sugar-laden beverages at school while touting a healthy and balanced diet.
"Hey, Snow. How's it goin' so far?"
The voice caused Heather to jump as she was turning from the vending machine. "Oh," she whispered as her visage suffused with red. "Quite fine, I suppose," she murmured mirthlessly as she stared at her friend.
"C'mon. You can sit with us over here," Jeremiah said as they began walking towards a set of tables near the wall.
Heather nearly stopped in her tracks. Us? She thought. As in reference to other people? Heather blanched, feeling nauseated.
"Hey, Tay. What up, Cuz?" Jeremiah called out to his cousin, Tayvion Brown.
Tayvion stood and they performed the customary quasi-handshake, hug that many males do.
"Jeremiah," a girl said the boy's name in a scolding tone. Her name was Nadia if Heather remembered correctly. "What are you doing bringing Wednesday Addams over here?"
Heather flinched as the girl's remark caused her to assess her appearance. She was clad in a black dress, with a white collared shirt and leggings with her hair hanging in two long braids on either side of her head. She supposed she did look the part. However, Heather was wise enough to know that the statement wasn't a compliment.
"Chill, Dee. She's cool," Jeremiah said to the girl.
The girl openly rolled her eyes and snorted before turning back to her friends as though neither Jeremiah nor Heather were worth her time.
Jeremiah was seemingly unfazed as well and sat down beside his cousin.
"I'm sorry. I-I can go sit elsewhere," Heather murmured.
Jeremiah looked up with a puzzled expression on his face to see Heather was still standing, an apple in one hand, Coke in the other.
"No. You can sit anywhere you want in this cafeteria. Nadia doesn't own the damn thing," Jeremiah said, narrowing his eyes at the girl down the table.
Nadia openly glared back at him, "What the fuck did you say, De Sanchez?"
"I said you don't have say over who sits where," Jeremiah asserted, matter of fact.
Heather was mildly shocked by Jeremiah's tone. She had only ever known him to be an amiable and nonconfrontational person. "I don't wish to be the root of discourse," Heather told Jeremiah, uncertain if her meek voice could be heard over the din of the cafeteria.
"Shut up, Nadia. You're just jealous Miah rejected your bitch ass," Tayvion chimed in. "If he wants to date Hermione Granger over here, mind your own damn business."
Heather's cheeks flared in mortification. "Oh, w-we're not..." Heather tried to counter, but the entire table had erupted with hooting and hollering over Tayvion's remark.
"Alright ya, pack of hyenas. You're embarrassing the girl," Jeremiah attempted to quell the uproar. While he had too much melanin to appear flushed, the expression on his face indicated that he was just as mortified. She had it on good authority that Tayvion (along with the rest of the table) hadn't the slightest indication as to Jeremiah's orientation.
"Settle down!" a member of staff scolded the lot, before telling Heather, "Find a seat and park it, Miss Calaway."
Immediately obeying the instruction, Heather plopped down next to her best friend. Her action garnered a scowl from Nadia which she endeavored to ignore.
Heather glanced at Jeremiah as he was still attempting to reign in some of their peer's banter. She certainly would never wish that he were any other way, but she surmised, that perhaps they may have been some sort of item in another life.
Now mid-October, the first month of school for Heather seemed to pass abruptly. Although, not without incident. As she regrettably predicted, Heather was often the subject of torment from Brittany and her lemmings. This left her to question the sanity of her decision and the necessity to assess her mental health daily. Heather was continuing her weekly sessions with Dr. Delinsky, and to her relief, the woman hadn't broached the discussion of her entanglement with this older man, as she put it. Instead, they focused on her academic career and the social environment of high school.
Nadia and her friends hadn't quite warmed up to Heather either, but their treatment was not so egregious. It came in the form of snide statements and backhanded compliments. The kind Heather knew all too well, but would play ignorant in the face of, so as to not perpetuate unnecessary disputes.
Heather could only deduce that Nadia's hostility stemmed from envy over her presumed involvement with Jeremiah, a prospect that could not be farther from the truth.
However, neither Jeremiah nor Heather did much in the way of refuting it. Following his initial discomfort, Jeremiah seemed little perturbed by others' gossip.
Heather wished she could say the same, but others' opinions of her often carried a great deal of weight, especially when the gossip skewed towards slanderous, as Heather would soon come to endure.
It was nearly mid-day on a Wednesday and Heather was changing out of her gym attire back into her regular school uniform. Heather refused to shower afterward even if she was forced to be particularly physical that day and broke a sweat. She refused to subject herself to a potential onslaught of being targeted any further.
Although she opted to wait until most of the other students had dispersed from the locker room, Heather could not bring herself to enter the shower or undress openly. This was due to the fear of being the object of one's scrutinizing gaze. Despite this, Heather had in time discovered that would not by any means, prevent others from speaking of her body.
The approaching sound of chatter and laughter hit Heather's ears as it filled the once-silent room. However, it was the conversation that caused Heather to stiffen like a marble statue.
"So, what's up with that Calaway girl or whatever? I mean, the uniforms don't have much color options, but she always looks like she's going to a damn funeral," commented a voice Heather barely recognized. It must have belonged to Kelly, a new student who had the misfortune of attending her senior year at a completely unacquainted school. Yet even more unfortunate, it would seem she had thrown in her lot with Brittany Bedson and her acolytes.
"Yeah, her own," another voice snorted. Heather realized it was Jessica.
"What?" Kelly asked.
Then came a scoff from Brittany Bedson. "That girl is such a skank, attention whore. She's always cutting herself and shit if she doesn't get her way," Brittany told the other girl.
Heather bit down on her lip to prevent a gasp from inadvertently escaping her. That was a new low, even for someone the likes of Brittany Bedson. To refer to her as a whore; such a vulgar and demeaning term.
"I can't believe they let her come back. Last year she got suspended and almost expelled," Brittany continued.
"For what?" Kelly questioned sounding a little skeptical.
"Coach Shaw caught her in the boys' locker room. She was fucking three dudes at once! She's the biggest slut in the whole school," Brittany exclaimed. There was a sick joy in her voice as she spouted her fictitious story.
Inside the stall, Heather clasped a hand over her mouth to trap the cry that threatened to tear from her throat. Her eyes blurred with the tears that beaded in them. She would never so much as entertain the thought of engaging in such an act! It was utterly undignified and obscene.
"Eww!" Kelly exclaimed in disgust. "No way. Are you for real? She looks like she wouldn't know a dick if she tripped and landed on one."
"Oh, she's real good at landing on them!" Reagan Smith concurred and the gaggle of girls broke out into a riotous laughter resembling hyenas.
"She's so pathetic. She's always up Jeremiah De Sanchez's ass. I don't know how he can stand her," Jessica commented.
"Who's that?" Kelly asked trying to keep up.
"Tayvion Brown's cousin," Reagan replied.
"He's actually kind of cute. Makes me wonder if what they say is true about…well, you know what I mean!" Meagan Carter chimed in with a giggle.
"Ugh! Shut up, Meagan! Don't make me fucking throw up," Brittany practically shrieked. "I wouldn't touch that shit with a ten-foot pole. I mean yeah, he is kinda hot in a way, but not after his shit's been in Calaway's disease-ridden pussy."
"I just said I was curious. God," Meagan defended herself.
Heather couldn't believe her ears. It was one thing for them to speak ill of her, and fabricate untruths, but now they were hauling Jeremiah into this?
"How many guys has she fucked?" Kelly probed.
Brittany snorted. "Shit. Who knows? Probably half the male student body. My brother, Brandon, told me she was throwing herself at him when he was at her parent's Fourth of July party this past Summer."
Heather felt the mortification wash over her. That was the first true statement of the entire conversation. In a momentary lapse of judgment and overwhelming emotions, Heather had in fact thrown herself at Brandon.
"She was also prancing around in front of all her dad's old ass coworkers in a slutty bikini," Brittany added.
Heather felt her stomach lurch. She had done that as well. Albeit it was certainly not her intention to entice anyone.
"Gross! Who the hell would want to look at that? She has the body of a twelve-year-old boy," Reagan shuddered with disgust.
Inside her head, Heather replayed a part of her conversation with Kevin from that night. It was one she had relived a thousand times over.
You're perfect.
No one is perfect.
That may very well be. But you are perfect for me.
Heather glanced down at her body, clad in only her bra to cover her diminutive breasts and her panties. At times the modest undergarment felt more like a training bra than something a young woman would wear. Her figure was slimmer still than it had been months ago. She knew this was due to stress and poor diet and she couldn't help but wonder what Kevin may think of her.
Heather was well aware of just how delusional she had been. Still, holding fast to some naive sliver of hope, she had never wanted to relinquish the fantasy that he had found her as stunning and gorgeous as he had claimed her to be.
Brittany's cruel words yanked Heather back to reality, "I know, right? But nobody's paying attention to what that fugly hoe looks like when they're jamming their dicks in every one of her holes, using her like the desperate whore she is."
"Guess you could say she's like a doorknob then. Everybody gets a turn!" Kelly quipped, proud to be a part of the comradery.
The girls burst into another bout of mean-spirited laughter that diminished in volume as they retreated. However, the taunting sound echoed in Heather's ears as it haunted the crestfallen girl.
When she was certain she had been left in solitude, a keening noise ripped from Heather's throat as she sank to her knees on the tile floor. She had unequivocally made a grave mistake. Heather reprimanded herself for the foolish notion that her situation would be different; that she could withstand and weather whatever it was that they chose to hurl at her. She had been utterly mistaken. Time would change nothing because she had always been exactly what she was meant to be: a foolish and ignorant little girl.
Heather willed herself to finish dressing and exit the locker room. She was apprehensive, however, terrified that the collective of girls would be waiting outside to jeer and taunt her. Heather was almost certain that Brittany knew for a fact that she was eavesdropping (to no volition of her own) otherwise she would not have uttered such horrendous falsehoods, no matter what level of disdain she may harbor.
Rather than go to the cafeteria for lunch, Heather made her way to the library. She didn't want to risk a run-in with Brittany or any of her drones. It wasn't as if she had an appetite at any rate. On top of everything else, Heather wanted to get a jump-start on her trigonometry homework – at least that is the excuse she gave herself.
Heather shouldn't have been there at that time. There was a study period going on for a group of underclassmen. She slipped in regardless, taking a seat at a far-right table in the back and pulled out her materials. Heather found it a challenge to concentrate and wrap her brain around the equations as she periodically wiped away silent tears with the sleeve of her black cardigan.
When focusing on her work proved to be futile, Heather retrieved the gratitude journal that Dr. Delinsky had given her from her backpack. She wasn't certain why she had pulled it out - even more uncertain as to why she would cart it along with her to school in the first place. Yet it found its way to her bag every day whether she inked its pages, read from it, or simply did nothing.
Today however, she wanted to tear out its pages and rip them to shreds or burn it, or flush it down the toilet like Ginny Weasley attempted to do in Harry Potter. Opening to a random page she read one of the lists without paying any mind to the date. Scoffing to herself she slammed the journal closed with a tad more force than she had meant to, earning her a reprimanding glance from Ms. Harris, the librarian.
Blushing in mortification, Heather tucked the journal away and pulled out her book for literature, Crime and Punishment. She read (or at least feigned doing so) until it was time for her next class.
Heather packed up and slowly trudged to her literature class. While she took care not to be tardy she made no means of hastening her pace.
Once the day had commenced, Heather claimed that she was feeling rather ill and beseeched Jeremiah to promptly escort her home. Naturally, Jeremiah inquired about her condition, but Heather merely shrugged it off as her monthly menstrual cycle, and nothing more was said on the matter.
Showing a terse display of gratitude, Heather scurried inside once they arrived at her home. Heather was contrite over being incredibly short with Jeremiah as well as not being entirely truthful, but she needed to quit the situation. To add insult to injury she was riddled with guilt over the indecent way in which Brittany and her lemmings spoke about Jeremiah.
Cautiously entering the foyer, Heather listened for signs of her mother about. When it seemed she was absent, Heather sprinted to her bedroom. Locking the door behind her, Heather threw herself on the bed and buried her face in a pillow where she cried until sleep took her.
Yeah, this was a little meh and boring, but I'm setting something up, so please bear with me. I know it's a long road, but there is a method to my madness, I promise.