Marked

I was still thinking about Jonah as the class ended and the bell rang.“Hey,” I said to him. “Do you want to walk me to my next class—”But at just that moment, all the kids rushed from their seats and my voice was drowned out. He couldn’t hear me and when the crowd cleared away, I lost sight of him.I shuffled into the hallway. It was the widest school hall I’d ever seen and it was completely packed, all the kids crammed in. There must have been thousands of kids in these halls, a sea of faces stretching endlessly.The noise was terrible, bouncing off the walls, and I wanted to cover her ears. I felt claustrophobic.Hundreds of kids stood there, clamoring, screaming, and shoving each other. It looked like a prison yard. It was all too loud. These kids laughed too loud, cursed too much, shoved each other too hard. I closed her eyes and wId it would all go away.Why me? I wondered.Looking out at the sea of new faces, I felt alone. Not because I was the only white girl—I actually

My first school day over, I exited the building into the sunny, March afternoon. Although a strong breeze was blowing, I didn’t feel cold anymore. I felt alive, and free. I could not stop thinking about Jonah.I wondered if I had acted like an idiot in the cafeteria. I had stumbled over my words; I barely even asked him any questions. All I could think of to ask him was about that stupid viola. I should have asked where he lived, where he was from, where he was applying to college.Most of all, if he had a girlfriend. Someone like him had to be dating someone.Just at that moment, a pretty, well-dressed Hispanic girl brushed by me. I looked her up and down as I passed and wondered for a second if it was her.I turned down 134th street, and for a second, forgot where I was going. I’d never walked home from school before, and for a moment, I blanked on where my new apartment was. I stood there on the corner, disoriented. A cloud covered the sun and a strong wind picked up, and I su

I stood before the door to my new apartment, staring. I had no idea how I got there. The last thing I remembered, I’d been in the alley. Somehow, I’d got myself back home.I remembered, though, every second of what happened in that alleyway. I looked down at my arms and hands, expecting to see them look different—but they were normal. The rage had swept through me, transforming me, then had just as quickly left.But the after-effects remained: I felt hollowed out, for one. Numb. And I felt something else. Images kept flashing through my mind, images of those bullies’ exposed necks. Of their heartbeat pulsing. And I felt a hunger. A craving.I really didn’t want to return home. I didn’t want to deal with my mom, especially today, didn’t want to deal with a new place, with unpacking. If it weren’t for Sam being in there, I may have just turned around and left. Where I’d go, I had no idea—but at least I’d be walking.I took a deep breath and reached out and placed my hand on the knob.

“I’m not sure if it was him,” Sam said. “There were 4 people with his name. Two of them were private and had no picture. I sent them both a message.”“And?”Sam shook his head.“I haven’t heard anything back.”“Dad would not be on Facebook.”“You don’t know that,” he answered, once again defensive.I sighed and walked over to my bed and lay down. I stared up at the yellowing ceiling, paint peeling, and wondered how we all had reached this point. There were towns they’d been happy in, even times when their mom seemed almost happy. Like when she was dating that guy. Happy enough, at least, to leave me alone.There were towns, like the last one, where Sam and I both made a few good friends, where it seemed like they might actually stay—at least long enough to graduate in one place. And then it all seemed to turn so fast. Packing again. Saying goodbyes. Was it too much to ask for a normal childhood?“I could move back to Oakville,” Sam said suddenly, interrupting her thoughts. The

I glanced at my watch: 8:40. I was 25 minutes late to class.I took a deep breath and turned the metal knob.I entered, and the entire class stopped and looked up at me. Including the teacher.Silence.“Ms….” the teacher, forgetting my name, walked to her desk and picked up a piece of paper, scanning it, “….Paine. The new girl. You are 25 minutes late.”A stern, older woman, the teacher glared down at me.“What do you have to say for yourself?”I hesitated.“Sorry?”“That’s not good enough. It may be acceptable to be late to class wherever you are from, but it’s certainly not acceptable here.”“Unacceptable,” I said, and immediately regretted it.An awkward silence covered the room.“Excuse me?” the teacher asked, slowly.“You said ‘not acceptable.’ You meant ‘unacceptable.’”“OH—SHIT!” exclaimed a noisy boy from the back of the room, and the entire class erupted into laughter.The teacher’s face turned bright red.“You little brat. Report to the Principal’s office rig