by Emma Rose
"We gotta get going or we won't make it to the mission in time for food," Momma reminded me.
I nodded my head. I knew the routine. Wake-up feeling groggy, hurriedly pack your things, return the air mattress, wait in the line to sign out of the shelter, and then you were out on the streets again before it was even light outside.
Most mornings, Momma and I traveled six blocks away from the shelter to eat at the mission. I didn't mind though, as long as I got food. Whereas the shelter was a frightening place for me to be as a child, the mission was the opposite. Sure, there were some colorful characters eating at the mission every morning, but I felt warm and safe with my mother beside me and a bowl of cereal in front of me.
By the time Momma and I finished breakfast, it was around 7:30 a.m. School didn't start for me until 8:30, so we had to kill time before then. Usually, we would wander around the park until it was time for me to go to school, but some days Momma would take me to St. Patrick's Cathedral to pray. Today was one of those days.
"Come on, Jemma. Let's pray this morning," Momma said, grabbing onto my hand as we crossed a busy street.
"Ugh, but Momma I don't want to," I complained.
"Shh," Momma said scolding me, "It's good for us to pray."
I rolled my eyes. Momma had a strong faith. She was always telling me stories from the Bible and praying over me, and I let her, but I didn't like it.
This issue was I couldn't decide if I didn't believe in God or if I was angry at God. There was a part of me that innately seemed to believe in a higher power and even though I tried to deny this belief it never seemed to go away. "How could there be a God, if there is so much pain in the world?" I wondered. I thought it would be easier to live in disbelief than to acknowledge the fact that a so-called loving God was allowing me and my mother to live without a home. But no matter how hard I tried I couldn't stop believing in God. So, instead, I became angry at him. In my mind, I cursed his name and told him that I hated him for not helping Momma out. In church, I went through the motions to avoid getting in trouble, but in my heart, I harvested hatred towards God.
When we got inside the church, Momma made me kneel next to her at the altar. I folded my hands and closed my eyes while Momma prayed silently. After a few moments, I got bored and started to look around the cathedral. It was beautiful, truly. The stained glass, the statues, the flowers, the ceilings, were all amazing to me, but when I looked over to my mother suddenly everything else in the cathedral melted away and I only saw her. In my eyes, she was the most beautiful thing in the cathedral.
As she prayed, I stared at her and I admired her. Momma was young. When I was eleven, she was only twenty-nine, but she seemed older. Her dark green eyes always looked tired and she was so thin you could see every bone in her hands, but she was still pretty.
Her thick, dark brown hair rested on her right shoulder in a long braid. She wore an old pair of ripped, boot-cut blue jeans and a grey hoodie. I noticed her sneakers were so worn there were holes in the soles. I could see her white socks through the bottom. Momma had thick, dark eyebrows, and long, black eyelashes. Her lips were thin and pink and her teeth were perfectly straight. Her jawline was sharp and feminine. She had a small chin, high cheekbones, and a cute button nose. Momma was taller than I would ever be, she stood around 5'10" as an adult. I never grew above 5'6". Sometimes I envied her beauty.
I suppose I got most of my looks from my father. My hair was dirty blonde, my eyes were blue, and my face was much rounder than my mother's. While she freckled, I tanned. I wanted so badly to look like her because I never knew my father, and my mother didn't mention him until I was older. I tried to ask her questions about him as a child, but she refused to answer them. I guess you could say he was a sore spot for her. I was ashamed to think that when she looked at me I might remind her of him.
Finally, Momma finished praying. She looked over at me and smiled, "We're blessed today," she whispered.
I nodded my head. Momma stood up and grabbed our belongings from the floor. I followed her out of the church, turning my head every which way to look at all the beautiful architecture as we walked toward the exit.
At this point, it was time for me to head off to school. "Have a good day today, baby," Momma said kissing the top of my head as we stood outside in front of the cathedral in the bright morning light.
"I will Momma, you have a good day, too," I said, wrapping my arms around her waist in a soft hug.
"Are you going to Oliver's after school today?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. That was always my answer.
"Okay, then. You know where to meet me at night then alright.
Same place, same time. Make sure you don't get there too late," she reminded me.
"Alright, Momma!" I agreed, waving goodbye.
"Goodbye, Jemma. Be good," she said.
"I will!" I called not bothering to look back.
I was happy to be going to school that day as always, but things were looking a little extra bright for me that particular day. With my successful audition the day before and Oliver always by my side, I was feeling pretty optimistic about the sixth grade.
CHAPTER TWO: JEMMA
The whole week after my audition, I felt like I was holding my breath and sitting on the edge of my seat. I was very proud of myself, so it was hard for me to keep my acceptance into choir a secret. I couldn't wait to get started singing with the other kids. Oliver was a great friend and all, but something in me wanted to fit in more than ever that year. Throughout my elementary school years, I was mostly ignored by my classmates unless they were making fun of me. I understood why. I mean, who would want to be friends with the kid that smells and wears all the dorky clothes after all? But this year, I wanted things to change. I wanted to be accepted by my peers and I hoped choir would be the way to do that.
On the day the choir list was to be posted, I was getting my books out of my locker when a group of four girls came and surrounded me. They were all eighth-graders and a few inches taller than I was. Every single one of them had perfectly straight hair, painted nails, mascara on their eyelashes, and flawless skin. Their clothes were new and name-brand. As I slammed my locker shut and turned to face them I knew they weren't there to be my friends.
"So you're the girl who's trying to steal my spot in choir," a blonde with a pink streak in her hair said glaring right at me. I stared back at her and her short jean skirt and black crop top. To the rest of the world, she would have just looked like an average school girl, but to me she was a fearsome, lip-gloss wearing giant.
I gulped. I had no idea what she was talking about. I knew the choir list was supposed to be posted that day, but I hadn't seen it yet. However, one thing I did know was that I was not trying to steal anyone's spot and that I had never met this girl. I didn't even know her name. I felt like I was going to pee myself right there in front of everybody.
I shook my head nervously, "I'm not trying to steal your spot. I-I-I don't even know who you are," I answered clutching my books to my chest, nervously scanning the halls for someone who might notice my predicament and help me out. Unfortunately, I didn't have many peer allies and there were no teachers within eyesight of the situation.
"Well, let me tell you who I am, then, okay?" the girl said leaning into me until my back was against the locker. "I'm Abigail Benson and I am the first soprano of Select Singers. Got it? I will not be removed from my part by a sixth-grader who looks like a third-grader. I don't care if you can sing or not."
"I just auditioned," I pleaded with her, "I didn't know there were... spots. I just wanted to sing in choir."
"Well, listen up," the girl to Abigail's left said. "Abby has been the first soprano in the Select Singers since she was in sixth grade and now because of you she's not."
"I'm sorry. I don't even know what it means to be the first soprano," I blushed.
"Let me bring you up to speed, okay, hun?" Abigail said taking a step closer towards me. Her voice was sickeningly swe
et. I could feel my mouth drying up and a rush of dizziness ran through my body.
"The first soprano is the best soprano and it seems Ms. Katie has made a mistake and placed you as first soprano instead of me," she informed me in a low whisper. "Do you think you are a better singer than me? Do you think you are the best soprano?" she asked sarcastically now just inches away from my face.
I was too intimidated to say anything, but even if I was able to utter a word I wouldn't have had anything to say.
"What? Cat got your tongue?" Abigail mocked me. I could smell her Justin Bieber perfume well and the scent made my nostrils burn. I wanted to cry, but I bit hard onto my bottom lip to stop myself. Abigail looked at me like I was weak prey she was about to conquer. "Let me make things real clear for you, kid. I'm going to be the first soprano, so here's what you're going to do. After school today, you're going to go to the music room and you're going to tell Ms. Katie you can't be in choir anymore. I don't care what excuse you make it for it; I just need you to quit."
At this point, my vision was blurred from my tears and I could feel warm blood on my lip for biting it so hard. Still, I barely made a sound.
"Oh, and Jade over here," Abigail said, gesturing to her brunette friend. "She's going to wait outside the music room this afternoon to make sure you do what you need to do."
I nodded in agreement. I would have done anything to get out of that situation at that moment.
"Good. I'm glad we're in agreement, but I need you to know one more thing. If I find out you snitched on me, I will make your life miserable. Don't tell anyone we had this conversation or you'll wish you weren't even alive."
I'll never know if Abigail's threat was empty or not but she definitely frightened me with it.
"Fine, I won't," I said quietly between sniffles.
Suddenly, the look of hatred disappeared from Abigail's face and like magic it was replaced with a saccharine smile. "Ok, then, you have a great day, Jemma!" she said in a chipper voice as if we were best friends and she had not just ruined one of the things I was most excited for in my life.
I gave her a confused look as she and her posse gave me little waves and smirks before leaving me to bring havoc on other girls down the hall. I rested my head on my locker and let the tears stream down my face. I was embarrassed, but I needed to cry. I couldn't hold it in any longer.
A few seconds later, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I wiped my eyes with my sweatshirt sleeve and turned around reluctantly. Much to my relief, I saw Oliver standing in front of me with his arms wide open waiting to comfort me with a hug.
"Jemma, what happened? Why are you crying?" Oliver asked. His concern for me was apparent in his voice.
I considered for a split second telling him everything that had happened, but I quickly thought better than to do that. What if Abigail found out I had told somebody? She would ruin my life...whatever that meant.
I sniffled in and released Oliver from the firm hug. "Nothing," I answered looking down at my shoes, "Just a rough day that's all." I couldn't look Oliver in the eyes and not tell the truth so I kept my glance elsewhere.
"Are you sure?" Oliver asked, suspecting suspicion. He could see right through me without even trying.
I nodded, "Yeah, I'm sure."
"You're tough. You don't cry over nothing. Come on, you can tell me what's wrong. I'm your friend, Jemma. You can tell me anything," Oliver insisted.
I appreciated his persistence in trying to get the truth out of me. It showed me that Oliver truly cared about my feelings and wellbeing, but I still couldn't tell him no matter how much I wanted to. It wasn't worth the risk of Abigail finding out and on top of that, I knew that Oliver wouldn't let me quit choir if he knew I was bullied into it. He would stand up for me but that could backfire big time and I didn't want the situation to get aggravated by adding Oliver's stubbornness and impulsivity into the mix.
"I'm fine, Oliver, okay. I'm just- I'm just feeling emotional today, alright?" I answered defensively. Oliver was probably offended and thought that I was trying to push him away when in reality I was just afraid that if I didn't put an end to the conversation at that moment, I would end up spilling everything to Oliver and bawling even more than I already had.
I looked into Oliver's eyes and saw a twinge of hurt in them. He thought I had rejected him. "Alright, fine. I'm sorry for being pushy. I'll see you after school then, okay?"
"Okay," I agreed simply.
"Let's go, we're going to be late for class," Oliver said, turning to walk down the hallway to his classroom. I followed shortly behind him as I walked to my sixth-period math lesson, my least favorite.
As the afternoon wore on, more and more dread filled my body as the hour approached for me to tell Ms. Katie I couldn't sing in choir anymore. My stomach turned to knots as I tried to think of a viable excuse that I could give her. I needed it to sound legitimate so she wouldn't become suspicious that I was lying.
A deep sadness radiated from my heart out toward my limbs making me feel tired and achy. I didn't understand how this situation could make me feel so physically crappy, but it did. I kept my head down on my desk during the final three classes of the day and ignored the lectures the teachers gave. They didn't seem important at the moment and I lacked the brainpower to effectively pay attention to them.
I thought about my mom and how disappointed she would be. She had wanted this for me almost as badly as I had wanted it for me. I had no idea what I would tell her when I got home. Some sort of lie that was for sure.
I felt like such a fool for thinking that the choir kids would accept me and want to be my friends. Instead, they had annexed me and bullied me. I blamed myself for being stupid enough to think that I could be part of something and that people might actually like me for me. I began to tell myself that it wasn't Abigail's fault for bullying me, but that it was my fault for being ignorant of the situation and for going out for something I knew nothing about. I was stepping on her toes and that's why she acted against me, I reasoned to myself. Soon enough, I had myself believing that I deserved to be treated the way I was.
My stomach dropped as I heard the school secretary rattling off the afternoon announcements over the loudspeaker. As the dismissal bell rang, I got up bravely from my desk, swung my backpack over my shoulders, and walked out of the classroom. I had accepted my fate and knew what I was going to do, but I wanted to prolong it as long as possible. I took the long way around the building and walked extremely slowly to the music room. As I walked, I grew even more nervous and shaky.
After a couple of minutes of stalling, I arrived at the door to the music room, where Oliver and I had celebrated my acceptance into choir just one week ago. I wished I could go back and relive that moment. What false hope I had for being a part of a club vanished, but at least it was sweet while it lasted.
I noticed Jade standing casually by the lockers a few feet away from the music room. She leaned up against them with one leg extended and her knee up with her foot resting on the locker a few feet above the floor. She had her slide phone out and was texting someone at record speed. I know that she noticed me, but she avoided eye contact.
I gathered what courage I had in myself to twist the door handle and enter Ms. Katie's classroom. I peeked in timidly and saw her across the room seated with a guitar in her lap and a music stand in front of her. When she saw me standing there, she smiled and said, "Jemma, it's so nice to see you again. Come on in, please. Sit down with me."
I smiled slightly taking cautious steps toward her and slowly lowered myself onto a chair across from hers before gently placing my backpack on the ground.
"So what's up sweetheart? Did you want to chat about something with me?" Ms. Katie asked. I darted my eyes onto the guitar and away from Ms. Katie's because she had the type of eyes that looked right into your soul. When she looked at you, you knew she could feel everything that you were feeling.
"Umm... yeah, actually." I stuttered, "I uhh... I really wish I didn't have
to tell you this, but I... I can't be in choir anymore," I rushed the last words because I knew that if I didn't they might not come out at all. After I said them, I started biting my fingernails to distract myself from the feelings I was feeling. I did not want to cry in front of Ms. Katie, that was for sure.
Ms. Katie's face dropped and she looked confused. She reached over her guitar and rubbed my shoulder gently. "I'm very sorry to hear that Jemma. You have a wonderful voice and I'm really going to miss having you sing with us this year. If you don't mind me asking, could you tell me why you decided to quit? I'm not trying to be nosy, I just want to see if there are any issues we can resolve so that maybe you can stay in choir after all."
"I have to focus on my schoolwork, that's all," I lied. A bitter taste came to my mouth and a lump formed in my throat. It was as if swallowing my lie was poisoning me.
I could tell Ms. Katie didn't fully buy it, but there was nothing she could say to dispute my excuse. So instead she said, "Ok, Jemma. I understand but promise me one thing. Don't ever stop singing, and if you ever change your mind and feel like you want to sing in choir, stop by during any rehearsal and we'll make a spot for you."
Ms. Katie's kind words made me feel loved, but even more guilty for quitting. I felt like a bad person for letting down someone who had been so kind to me, but I knew I had no choice. Abigail had threatened me and I didn't have the strength in me to stand up for her. I was only eleven and I was insecure.
"Thanks, Ms. Katie. I'll let you know if- if anything changes," I mumbled before standing up and grabbing my backpack off the floor awkwardly.
"You're welcome, honey. You let me know," Ms. Katie said.