Bully Me: Class of 2020

by Shantel Tessier

  I grin over at him. “You are so not a Peeta. You’re a Gale if I ever met one.”

  “I’m a Hunter, actually.”

  “So is Gale,” I tell him with a big grin.

  Hunter rolls his eyes at me. “We’ve gotta get you out more. Your nerd bubble is out of control. Do you have a curfew?”

  His question about stops my heart. “A curfew?”

  Nodding, he teases, “You’ve heard of those, right? Parents typically give them so we don’t stay out all night with our friends. You do have friends, don’t you?”

  I slide him an unamused look. “Of course I have friends. Well, a friend, but quality over quantity, right?”

  Hunter blinks at me. “You seriously only have one friend?”

  I back up against the wall and slide down it until my butt’s on the ground. Hunter sits down on the floor beside me. “It’s sorta complicated. Sara’s cool and fun, but people are afraid to be friends with her. It’s stupid,” I inform him, looking over at him. “It’s so dumb. But one of the mean girls put a target on her years ago and now… I don’t know. Same kids, same habits. People still avoid her, and Valerie’s still mean to her for no reason—”

  “Wait, Valerie Johnson?” I nod my head. “I’m friends with her. What’d she do?”

  “She ostracized my friend Sara. She has these slumber parties…”

  He nods when I trail off. “Yeah, I know the slumber parties,” he says with a smirk.

  Ugh. I roll my eyes. “Of course you do.”

  “She barely invites anyone to those, though. If Sara doesn’t make the cut, I’m sure it’s not personal. Mostly only our friends go to her parties.”

  “I know that’s what it’s like now. This was in first grade.”

  Hunter’s eyes widen. “First grade? When we were little kids?”

  I nod my head. “The social stigma somehow lingered. Like I said, it’s stupid.”

  “That’s incredibly stupid,” he agrees. “So, let’s fix it. I was gonna invite you to come hang out with us this weekend. Why don’t you bring your friend, too?”

  “Hang out?” I question.

  He nods.

  “With your friends?”

  “A few of us are gonna go to the mall—shop a little, get some food, just hang out, you know?”

  Right. I know, because these are… normal things that normal teenagers do. “Yeah. Right. Totally. I do that all the time.”

  He stares over at me. “You don’t even go to the mall, do you? God, Bishop, what do you do?”

  “I go to the mall if I have to,” I say defensively. “But Sara and I aren’t really—we don’t go to the mall all the time, that’s all.”

  “Jeez,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re not just 80 levels below me on the food chain, you’re extinct.”

  “Hey!” I object.

  “It’s okay,” he assures me, reaching over and patting my thigh reassuringly. “I’m gonna put you back on the map.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t need you to put me anywhere. I’m just fine where I’m at.”

  “You’re really not,” he disagrees, now assessing the outfit I’m wearing. “We need to get you a couple new outfits, too. You dress like an alien who just arrived and found a box of clothes nobody wanted on the side of the road.”

  “All right, now, you listen to me—”

  He holds up a hand to silence me. “Don’t worry about it. My mom gives me her credit card when I go to the mall, I’ll have someone with more style sense help you out and I’ll buy you some stuff.”

  “I don’t need you to buy me things,” I inform him, wide-eyed. “I’m not your project, I’m just fine the way I am.” I look down at the Old Navy top that is admittedly an ugly, vegetable-like shade of green. And okay, yes, the graphic is a bit faded and it has seen better days, but it’s not like there are holes in the fabric. It’s still perfectly fine clothing. “I know I’m not the most stylish girl in the world, but why does that matter?”

  “Doesn’t matter to me,” Hunter says. “But it matters to my friends. They’re into that stuff. If you want them to accept you, you’ve gotta look the part.”

  “I don’t need your friends to accept me,” I tell him, frowning.

  “It would make my life easier if they did,” he tells me. “Just let me do this for you, okay?”

  “I didn’t even agree to go with you. And why would your friends accepting me make your life easier?” I ask, still scowling at him.

  He doesn’t say anything for a minute. He waits for me to give up, looking down the hall, scratching at the knee of his jeans. When he looks back at me and I lift my eyebrows expectantly, he finally says, “Because I like you, okay? I enjoy hanging out with you, but my friends… they think you’re a little weird. And I know you’re a little weird, but I think it’s cute. I think it’s part of your charm, but they don’t know you yet. I’ve had the chance to look past the surface layer and think you’re pretty cool underneath, but they haven’t. I know it’s shallow, but stupid shit like wearing the wrong thing…” He shakes his head, looking mildly irritated. “It’s enough to make them dismiss you. If you can just fit in with them long enough for them to get to know you, I’m sure they’ll like you, too.”

  Swallowing, I look down at the dingy linoleum floor. “I don’t think I should have to change in order for people to like me.”

  “You don’t,” he says. “You don’t have to change, just wear a new outfit. Is that such a big deal?”

  “I guess not,” I murmur, but I can’t imagine having a good time with people who demand I dress a certain way just to be seen with them.

  “If you don’t like it, then okay, but it can’t hurt to at least try, right?” he says, trying to put a more positive spin on things. “You never know, you might like the new clothes.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I didn’t want to read this book, and I did it for you, right? And I’m enjoying it.”

  I guess that’s true. Looking over at him and meeting his gaze, I say, “I guess I’ll give it a shot, just like you’re giving reading a shot, but if I hate it…”

  “Then I’ll just hang out with you, anyway. I’ll tell anyone who side eyes you for your bad fashion sense that you’re an alien who only recently arrived on our planet,” he promises.

  I crack a smile, looking away from him and down at my lap. I’m still not so sure about going to the mall with his friends, but I can’t help replaying that other part of what he said in my head, memorizing every note like it’s my favorite song.

  He said he likes me. Maybe he doesn’t mean he like likes me, but… maybe he does.

  _______________

  Deciding to go hang out with Hunter and his friends is one thing. Convincing my mom to let me go is a whole other thing. I don’t know why she’s so weird about him, but as soon as that backpack showed up she freaked out about him and he’s been a touchy subject ever since. She has tried to bring him up and ask me about him a couple times, but it was so tense and awkward, I didn’t want to talk.

  I’m not going to lie to my mom, but from the time Hunter invites me to the moment Mom grabs two dinner plates and hands one to me, I am brainstorming ways to soften it. I think I’ve finally got a solid angle, so as we sit down at the dinner table, I take my shot.

  “So, you know how Sara is crazy about Wally Kazinsky?”

  Mom smiles as she pushes some canned corn and mashed potatoes together with her fork. “Yeah.”

  I feel like I’m being sneaky, so my heart beats a little faster. “Today at recess she was convinced he was looking at us—I mean, at her, not us. He doesn’t care about me, obviously. I mean, not that he cares about her, either—at least, I don’t think he does.”

  Oh crap. As I lose control of my mouth, Mom begins to frown in mild confusion.

  I attempt to get myself back under control. It all sounded so perfect in my head, I just have to get back on track. “So, Wally’s friends with Hunter.”

&nb
sp; As soon as I say Hunter’s name, Mom tenses, but she attempts a smile and gives me an encouraging nod like just hearing his name doesn’t set her on edge. It clearly does, though, and that makes me even more nervous.

  “I told him how Sara would love the chance to actually hang out with Wally. I mean, I didn’t tell Hunter she has a crush on him. Not that he would tell Wally, either way. I just… Hunter invited me—us—he invited us to come to the mall with him and some of his friends this weekend. Wally will be there, and Hunter said I could bring Sara, and then she’ll finally get a chance to hang out with him. I wasn’t sure at first, but can you imagine how excited Sara will be?”

  Mom avoids my gaze, carefully setting her fork down. “He asked you to go to the mall with him this weekend, and after you said no, he added the incentive that if you come, he’ll hook your best friend up with the boy she has a crush on?”

  I hesitate. I almost say yes, but the way she words it, it sounds like a trick. “No. I mean, kinda, but that sounds…”

  “Manipulative?” she suggests.

  “It wasn’t like that. He just said I could bring Sara to be nice. I think I explained it badly.” I frown to myself, going back over my conversation with Hunter. It didn’t go exactly like that. He invited me out to buy me a new look that will impress his friends—which I definitely can’t tell her—and when I wasn’t so sure, he reminded me that he read the book for me…

  Nope, that won’t help. Can’t tell her that. He didn’t even make it to bribing me with Sara until after that when he could tell I still wasn’t excited about the idea. By the time he finished adding to the package, I was pretty excited, but it all happened so casually. It was a friendly exchange, not a cold transaction like Mom is making it sound.

  “He’s not a bad guy,” I finally tell her, getting right to the point.

  “Honey, I’m not saying he is. I just… sometimes you have to be careful about trusting boys. They don’t always have the motives you think they have. And this boy, he started showing interest in you all of a sudden, pretty out of the blue, right? And he’s coming on a little strong.”

  “He’s not coming on strong,” I argue. “He hasn’t even talked to me in days, I thought he didn’t like me anymore or something, but—but he does, and he wants me to hang out with his friends this weekend at the mall, and I want to go.”

  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” she says carefully. “If you and Sara want to go to the mall this weekend, I can take you. I’m off Saturday.”

  “I don’t want to go with you,” I blurt.

  As soon as the words are out, my stomach drops and I want to suck them back in. My mom looks like I just slapped her, and suddenly my appetite is gone.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “I didn’t mean it like that. You know I love going shopping with you. I mean… I don’t love shopping, but you know I always want to spend time with you. I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

  She holds up a hand, recovered from her surprise and trying to let me off the hook. “I know.”

  “I’m sorry. That came out so mean,” I say, looking down at my lap.

  “I understand what you meant. You don’t just want to go to the mall, you want to… go with him.”

  “And Sara,” I add, but with little effort. She knows Hunter is the one I really want to hang out with this weekend.

  Mom sighs, looking at the dinner table as she processes. “Who all will be there?”

  “Me and Sara, Hunter and Wally, and then a couple more of his friends, he didn’t say who. His mom’s going to drive.”

  “She can drive them. I’ll drive you and Sara.”

  I brighten. “Does that mean I can go?”

  I can tell she’s dreading it, so instead of saying yes, she looks at me across the table. “You’re too young to start dating.”

  I freeze, and my face flames. “I’m not dating.”

  “I know, I’m just putting it out there. Obviously, you like this boy. That’s perfectly okay. He might like you, too—but you’re too young for a boyfriend. You’re too young for a lot of things, and I’m worried that you and this boy… you might not be on the same page. He hangs out with a different crowd. He’s a jock, which tends to mean something at your age,” she says, rolling her eyes and sighing. “He has rich parents and popular friends, and his values might differ significantly from yours. I don’t want you to lose who you are over some boy. I know everyone makes mistakes, it’s part of growing up, but I just have a feeling about this boy, honey. Call it mother’s intuition. I don’t think he’s someone you should be spending your time with.”

  Crossing my arms defensively, I tell her, “You don’t even know him.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. I only know what I’ve seen and what I’ve heard, but frankly, that’s enough to give me doubts. You are my only concern.” She reaches a hand across the table in my direction, but I keep my arms crossed. “If you want to go to the mall with him and his friends this weekend, you can. But please be careful. Some people can look really good on the surface, but when you look closer, you see… maybe they’re not so good.”

  “He is good,” I say stubbornly, despite my prior belief that he was a jerk.

  Mom presses her lips together grimly and leans back in her chair. I can tell she wants to say something, but she refrains. “All right. Well, I trust your judgment. If that judgment changes as you collect more information about him, I’ll trust that, too. Just pay attention to how you feel when you’re around him. I don’t mean… the fun, smitten feeling, but a few layers deeper. You should feel comfortable with your friends, so if your instincts start to kick up doubt about his intentions, make sure you pay attention to that. If anything he does starts making you uncomfortable, get out of there. Remove yourself from the situation immediately. If he pressures you to do anything you don’t want to do, you tell him no, and if he doesn’t listen, kick him right between the legs.”

  Mortified, I cover my face with my hands. “Oh my god, Mom.”

  “Or knee him. A good knee to the crotch works nicely.”

  “Please stop.”

  She doesn’t. “Hitting him in the Adam’s apple with your open palm might work, too. Depending on your positioning, that could be hard, but you can also use the palm of your hand to hit him really hard in the nose. You might break it, you might make him cry—whatever happens, I promise he’ll be too distracted to keep doing whatever he was doing to make you uncomfortable,” she adds. “Just pow! and then run like the wind.”

  “I’m uncomfortable now. If I ram you in the nose, can I run away from this conversation?”

  She ignores me. “If all else fails, scream bloody murder. Don’t worry about making a scene and embarrassing anyone else. Make a scene.”

  “I will literally pay you to stop talking.”

  When I move my hands from my face, Mom’s grinning. “I’ve seen your savings account, kid; you can’t afford to silence me.”

  Chapter Four

  MY MOM SLOWS to a stop in front of the entrance to the food court. She puts the car in park, glances at the entrance to the mall, then looks into the back seat where Sara and I are.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you in?” she asks.

  “I’m positive,” I assure her.

  “I could. I saw a good parking spot. Just say the word.”

  “Honestly, Michelle, no one brings their mom to the mall on group hangs,” Sara tells her, glancing anxiously at the mall entrance. Knowing Wally would be here, she agonized endlessly over what to wear to the mall today. I can tell now she’s impatient about getting inside.

  Mom nods, sighs, and looks over at me. “You have the money I gave you for food and stuff?”

  I pat my purse where I tucked the twenty-dollar bill she gave me before we left the house. “In here.”

  “And your cell phone?”

  I know my mom really must be worried about me hanging out with Hunter because the day after she told
me I could come this weekend, she took me to get my own cell phone. She tried to play it off, saying it was probably time for it anyway, but I really wish I knew how to set her mind at ease about Hunter. She has such a wrong impression of him.

  “Got it,” I confirm.

  “Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”

  I nod, glancing over at Sara as she scoots practically on top of me, trying to push me out of the car. “I will,” I promise my mom as I pull the latch and open the door. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Call me when things are winding down and I need to come pick you up,” she calls, leaning back and watching me get out of the car.

  “I will. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Sara climbs out behind me, vibrating with excitement. She calls a quick “bye” to my mom then practically mows over me. “Come on, come on, come on!”

  I grin, sliding my purse strap over my shoulder and following her into the food court.

  Although I have a phone now, I don’t have Hunter’s number, so I can’t text him to see where they are. He said to meet them in the food court at three, so we just have to walk around and look.

  My mom texts me from the parking lot like a crazy person, wanting to make sure I’ve found him. I’m just about to text back “not yet” when I spot him.

  Sara spots them at the same time. I hear her gasp, followed by, “There he is!”

  Of course out of the whole crew, she only sees the boy she likes.

  I am not as lucky. Before my eyes settle on Hunter, they wander around the table to see who else he brought. By the time my gaze makes it back to him, I’m a tad less pleased, but then I see he’s walking in our direction.

  We start walking, too, so we can meet them halfway. I’m suddenly self-conscious for a split second, wondering if I look okay. I shake it off and force a smile, even though the friend group he brought doesn’t fill me with excitement.

  At least he looks genuinely happy to see me. His smile is all for me as he approaches, his eyes never leaving me. “Hey.”

  “Hi,” I say, my smile widening and coming a little more easily.