Bully Me: Class of 2020

by Shantel Tessier

  “Stop saying what?” Calix snaps back as the older woman in the yellow shirt jogs over to us, phone clutched in her hand.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, and I have to bite back the urge to scream. “Should I call the police?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Calix replies, and I cut him off before he can continue. If I hear another line repeated, I might very well go insane.

  “Please leave us alone,” I say, looking back at the lady with what I hope is a fairly sane expression. I don’t feel sane. Not even close. In fact, I’m considering driving three counties over and checking myself into a mental health facility.

  “We’re classmates; I won’t be pressing charges,” Calix says anyway, and I begin to sob. The woman moves away, still watching us, like she always does. “Good god, Trailer Park, what the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks, but there’s something strange in his voice, an edge of … well, it can’t be concern, but something I’ve never heard before.

  Except for that one time.

  I choke on a sob, burying my face in my hands.

  “You hate me so much,” I murmur, not caring what he thinks of me. “Why don’t you just kill me now and put me out of my misery?”

  Calix goes disturbingly still, like we’re both in a play together, but I’m not saying my parts right.

  “Is this a Devils’ Day prank?” he asks, sounding annoyed, rather than pissed off. “Because I’m not in the mood.”

  “A Devils’ Day prank,” I quip with a dry laugh, dashing the tears from my face and rising to my feet. I throw him a look of pure hatred. I hate him. I hate him. I fucking hate him. “I wish. Just … get the hell away from me, Calix.”

  I start walking down the sidewalk, not caring what happens to my car. He can have it towed for all I give a shit. If I wake up tomorrow and that’s the worst of my problems, I’ll jump for fucking joy and compose a ditty to sing the rest of the day. The Knight Crew can hang me by my shoelaces from the loblolly pines near the courtyard and I’ll thank them for the privilege.

  After about half a block, I realize that Calix is following me.

  “What do you want?” I snap, turning to face him without an ounce of fear or trepidation. The Knight Crew and their bullying means nothing to me right now. Nothing. Not when I’m losing my goddamn mind.

  “You just hit my car,” he says, scowling at me, dressed in his academy uniform. I hate how handsome he looks in the royal purple jacket, how well it compliments his raven-dark hair and obsidian eyes. They glitter with anger as he takes me in from head to toe, a muscle in his jaw ticking with frustration. “Do you really think I’m going to let you walk away?” He reaches out and uses the knuckle of one finger to swipe some blood from my forehead. Despite everything, my heart stutters and I feel a bit of emotion rise up in me, emotion that I thought I’d wiped away after last year’s Devils’ Day party. “Do you have a head injury or something? The press is all over this one-percent, rich versus poor crap. If something happens to you, I might actually serve time for it—even though you were the one that chose to rev your engine and hit my fucking car.”

  “You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?” I snap back, unfettered by my usual inhibitions. Don’t piss the Knight Crew off; don’t draw their attention anymore than necessary. But who cares? If I’m going to be locked away, my mind trapped in a never-ending cycle of crazy, then I might as well be bold. “I said I’m fine. Leave me alone, Calix.”

  I start to walk again, but he reaches out to grab my arm, his fingers tight against the purple of my own blazer. I look back at him, meeting his dark eyes with my gray ones.

  “You’re not going anywhere until we sort out this crash; I’m calling an ambulance.” He pulls his phone from his pocket, and I knock it away, sending it flying into the road. A passing car runs right over it, and his teeth clench so tight I wouldn’t be surprised if one were to snap off. That insouciant air of privilege is fading around the edges, like a mask with a crack down the middle. Fitting, considering it’s Devils’ Day. Again.

  “Calix, if you don’t let go of me, I’m going to start screaming, and I won’t stop until there’s a crowd hauling you off of me.” His grip tightens and some of his usual haughtiness floods his expression.

  “Go for it,” he challenges, yanking me toward him hard enough that our fronts bump together. I look up at him and for the briefest of seconds, I can remember what it was like last year when he came to my house looking for me. When he invited me to the party. Took me to the spring and the treehouse. When he confessed.

  My cheeks heat and I glance away.

  I guess I’m not so beyond caring that I want to scream and draw a bunch of attention to myself. Calix releases me, and I grip my wrist to my chest, as if his touch has left some sort of permanent mark on my flesh.

  “Karma,” he starts, and the tone in his voice catches me off-guard, like he’s about to say something he may very well regret.

  “What the fuck happened?” Raz shouts, jogging up to us with Barron on his heels. “Why is Trailer Park’s car shoved up the ass of yours?” He sneers at me, red eyes darkening with hate. “Little bitch thought she’d get the first Devils’ Day trick on us, huh?”

  It’s not quite the same script, but close enough that I feel my ears begin to ring. Calix steps back from me, like he’s just realized I’m the ugly, weird, poor girl he’s never liked. One he hates so much that he was willing to spend hours fucking her just to prove a point, just for a joke.

  “Leave me alone,” I whisper, wishing they’d all go away, so I could have a moment to think.

  “Go away?” Raz echoes with a laugh as Barron sucks on his stupid lollipop, watching me with those dual-colored eyes of his. “You’ve got to be kidding. You think you get to pull this shit and just walk away? I don’t fucking think so.”

  “Back off of her,” Barron warns, glancing over at the busy shopping center on our right. “People are watching.”

  A long, tired sigh escapes me, and all three boys look at me strangely, like I’m not acting the way I’m supposed to.

  “I’ll suck your dick tonight to pay for the damage,” I deadpan, stopping Calix before he can feed me the next line in the story. His eyes widen, almost imperceptibly, before he’s scowling again. Raz just starts laughing, like a braying donkey, and doesn’t stop.

  “You think I want your filthy mouth on my dick?” Calix snaps, but there’s something about the way he says the word filthy that makes me wonder. It’s almost a caress, coming out of that menace of a mouth.

  “You didn’t seem to mind last year,” I snap back as Barron studies me with an intensity that reminds me of the way he draws, like I’m a subject he just has to capture in charcoal. I’ve seen his art; he’s good. But he lacks passion in his work. It’s as empty and cold as his voice or that unnerving stare from his brown and blue eyes.

  “Aw, are you still salty about all of that?” Raz taunts, pushing his bangs back from his forehead with a smirk. “Did you get your heart broken last year?”

  “Since you’ve inconvenienced all of us,” Barron interrupts, his voice like a cool fog on the morning of a funeral. It’s … almost depthless, but also cold. Sad. Indifferent. There’s something about it that’s always scared but simultaneously fascinated me. “Maybe you can meet us at the party and suck us all off?”

  “Oh, this I like,” Raz says as I stand there with ice in my belly and fear in my heart. What’s happening? Why is this happening? And how can I make it stop? “I might not like you much, but I never turn down a BJ.”

  “And you have all the diseases to show for it,” I blurt before I can stop myself. Raz’s face darkens up, and he spins on me, grabbing me by the shoulders and yanking me close. The way his red eyes search my face, I can tell he hates me about as much as I hate Calix. Maybe more.

  “The more I think about it, the more I like this idea. Meet us at the party tonight and we’ll work something out.” He releases me, and I stumble a few steps, but I’m not afraid
of the challenge in his eyes, the darkness in Calix’s, or the unnerving stare from Barron.

  I won’t be going to the party tonight regardless.

  “Fine.”

  They all look at me like I’m somewhat of a disappointment, like this is not how I’m supposed to act or how things are supposed to go. There’s no challenge here, and if there’s no challenge, there’s no fun.

  “When did you get so goddamn boring?” Raz quips with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Come on, let’s leave the bitch to whatever emo bullshit is plaguing her. Maybe she can write a sad poem about it and read it in front of the class?”

  Raz turns and starts off down the sidewalk. After a long moment, Calix peels away and follows after him.

  Barron waits for a beat longer, watching me, almost like he’s committing me to memory.

  This too, shall pass, I tell myself, but maybe that isn’t true. Maybe some things don’t pass? Maybe this is punishment for all the mistakes I made in life, reparations for all the people I hurt? Maybe I really did drive my car off the road that night and this is purgatory?

  Or hell.

  More than likely, it’s hell.

  “See you at the party,” Barron says, and then he turns and leaves me to stand alone on the sidewalk.

  _______________

  “You did what?!” Luke crows as I stand in front of her, trying my best to maintain some sort of calm. But it’s hard, I’ll admit. All I want to do is go home and sleep, but I’m terrified to close my eyes again. The last few times I did, I woke up at the gas station. So today, I’m going to do my best to go through the motions without hurting anyone I love, and see what happens. Maybe that’s all I need to do? “I can see the headline now: three hundred thousand-dollar Aston Martin crushed by shitty yellow VW bug with eyelashes. What a glorious start to Devils’ Day!”

  I say nothing in response. In fact, I probably look like a weirdo, standing there quiet and sullen as Luke laughs and April tilts her head to one side.

  “Are you okay?” she asks after a moment, breaking the script. I almost sob with relief. If I had to hear another line repeated over again, I might’ve just collapsed to the ground and given up. “Because you don’t look it. There’s some blood on your forehead and your eyes are a bit glassy. I think you should go to the nurse’s office.”

  “No,” I say, but the word comes out in a whisper and Luke stops laughing abruptly, turning to look at me with a hint of fear in her gaze. “I don’t need to see the nurse; my moms took me to the hospital, and it turns out that I’m just fine.”

  “They took you to the hospital?” Luke asks, exchanging a look with April. “It’s over an hour away. How did you get there and back so quick?”

  “I …” I don’t know how to respond to her question, so I don’t. Instead, I glance over at the imposing form of Crescent Preparatory Academy and wonder if this where I have to spend the rest of eternity, in this big stupid Tudor building with a bunch of rich rejects that I hate, but only because they hate me. I never wanted that. When I started here in freshman year, I thought I could change their minds, show them that their wealth and privilege didn’t make them any better than me.

  I’ve completely and utterly failed to do anything of the sort. I’m not some sort of folk hero. Instead, I’m just a girl living a nightmare and wishing it would end.

  “April is right,” Luke says, squeezing the pack of powdered donuts in her hand enough that they’re probably ruined. “You’re pale. I mean, you’re white as fuck, so you’re always pale, but … this isn’t a normal sort of paleness. You’re ashen, Karma.”

  I stare at her and before I realize it, the tears are coming, hot and salty as they run down my cheeks.

  “Oh, Karma,” she says, exchanging a quick look with April before she pulls me into her arms and squeezes me so tightly that I can’t breathe. I think about her talking to my moms about Calix, spilling my secrets without telling me about it. But it’s impossible to be mad about something that might never have happened. “What’s wrong?” Luke leans back, looking at me with her dark brown eyes and her anime-blue hair. “You still love him, don’t you?”

  “I never loved him,” I snap back, but it feels like a lie, even though it’s not. I never loved Calix. I … I don’t know why I gave into him last year, but it wasn’t because of that. Maybe I just wanted to try the whole sex thing, so I could stop wondering about it? He was good, too—probably a byproduct of all his whoring around—so at least there’s that. We did it; it felt good. End of story. You’re such a liar, even to yourself. “Look, I’m just having a shitty day, okay? I don’t want to talk about Calix or the Knight Crew or anything else.”

  “Yeah, yeah, of course, no worries,” Luke says, pulling the goblin mask from her backpack. It makes me feel sick, watching her put it on. No matter how I deviate from the formula, the universe steers me right back in the same direction.

  “God, this town is weird,” April murmurs, and I decide I just can’t take it anymore. I thought I could force myself to follow the original day step by step, but I can’t. I can’t stand how surreal it feels, how wrong it feels. My mouth burns with the taste of copper, and I turn away, storming into the woods and away from the school as April and Luke call out after me.

  Then I start to run, and I don’t stop until I’m climbing inside my car and peeling out of the parking lot.

  _______________

  I head back to my parents’ house, parking outside the Diamond Point gates and then sneaking inside on foot. Once I’m sure that both of my moms are in their art studio out back, I let myself into the house with my key and load up as much weed and alcohol as I can find. Neither of my parents is much into substances of any kind, so there’s not a lot, but I do find a small container of pot brownies on the top shelf of their bedroom bookcase, and a case of wine that Mama Cathy bought for her book club meeting. There’s even a full bottle of tequila that some acquaintance of theirs gifted them for Christmas last year and they never drank; it still has a red and green ribbon tied around the neck.

  After that, I head for the woods where the party’s being held later, intent on staking my claim in one of the train cars and getting wasted. I’m not sure why that’s the first plan that comes to mind. There are so many other things I could be doing right now, but I feel paralyzed. Helpless. At least the alcohol and the weed, they can take the pain away.

  When I finally get to the train car, however, I find that someone’s already beaten me there.

  It’s Pearl, sitting on one of the seats with her knee propped up, a small razor blade in her hand. One by one, she makes these perfect, tiny cuts on the inside of her right arm and watches ruby red droplets of blood well from each wound before moving onto the next.

  As soon as I see her, I’m torn between wanting to rush in and tear the blade from her hand … and fleeing before she can see me. Unfortunately, my foot bumps an old beer can and her honey-brown eyes lift up to find me standing in the doorway.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she asks, but I don’t know how to respond to that, so I lift up the case of wine in response and she scowls. “Wow. Red wine for a rager. You’re a real rebel, aren’t you, Trailer Trash?”

  “What’s your problem with me anyway?” I snap back, even though I know that a girl who spends her afternoons cutting class and cutting herself probably should be handled with a bit of respect and understanding. But I’m tired, and I’m confused, and I feel like I’m floating through a nightmare, so I don’t act with the compassion that I should. “You’re such a bitch, like everyone else at Crescent Prep. You, the Knight Crew, the Devils’ Day Committee,” I add, thinking of the raven-haired girl who smashed the butterfly necklace. “Everyone. No wonder your parents all shipped you off to butt-fuck nowhere, Arkansas.”

  Pearl rises to her feet and comes over to stand in front of me, silver-blond hair shiny in the sunlight, the red of her cuts a brilliant ruby against her pale skin.

  “I don’t like you because you’re
desperate,” she sneers, getting in my face, the razorblade still clutched in her hand. For a moment, I wonder if she’ll strike me with it. She doesn’t, tucking it away in her pocket as she moves around me toward the open door. “You act like you’re better than the Knight Crew, but you look at them like you’d give your left tit to be one of them. That’s why. You’re even worse than they are.” She elbows me out of the way, and I let her go, shaking, my hand clenched around the cardboard case with the wine in it. Slowly, I set it down on the leaf-covered ground and draw out a bottle. Using the bottle opener I stuffed into my pocket, I pull the cork out and toss it aside, putting the wine to my lips and drinking deeply. I barely stop for breath, downing as much as I can stomach before I haul back and just throw the bottle as hard as I can into the wall, like Calix did that first night with the vodka.

  It shatters to pieces, stinking up the room with the cloying scent of grapes and cherries. But holy shit, it feels good, freeing.

  “You’re even worse than they are.”

  Fuck Pearl.

  Fuck the Knight Crew.

  I pull out another bottle, but I don’t bother to uncork it this time. Instead, I throw it at the last intact window there is. It’s beyond satisfying when they both shatter, and a strange, strangled laugh tears from my throat as I sink to the floor, twisting the top off the tequila and swigging several mouthfuls of that. It burns as it goes down, but I don’t care. Anything to make this day go away. Anything at all.

  The alcohol burns in my veins as I take my mask from my backpack, slipping it on and then stumbling out of the train car to the pit where the partygoers start the fire every year. It’s just a hole, dug deep and filled with rocks, but it works. Somebody’s already stacked firewood nearby, making it easy for me to set up. I brought my own lighter fluid and a box of matches, so by the time the other students start showing up, I’ve already teased the flames into a roaring frenzy.