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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1047816-Smart-Girl
Rated: ASR · Short Story · Teen · #1047816
This is a very sad story about a girl and what she goes through because of her brains.
Her worn shoes thud against the floor as she makes her way to class. She hugs her books tightly to her chest so that the mean kids can’t knock them out of her arms. Her wide blue eyes drift across the hallway. She then runs right into a boy coming out of his math class and bounces back, immediately lowering her eyes and mumbling an apology.
“That’s right, you’d better be sorry. Watch where you’re going,” snarls the boy as he pushes past her. She flushes as people look at her and hurries to her next class.

“Good morning, Miss Maybin,” says the old teacher kindly as she takes her seat in the front. She likes the front. She doesn’t have to squint to see the board, and she doesn’t have to see people whispering to each other about her. She looks at the agenda and gets out the appropriate materials.
“Look at her,” whispers one of the girls behind her gleefully. “She’s so ugly!” Her friends giggle appreciatively and they all look at her. She pretends not to notice and concentrates on filling out the agenda in her organizer. She has to bend down further over it since her glasses were broken the week before because a boy had stepped on them.

“Hey, Rob!” calls the popular girl as a tall and handsome boy walks through the door. Rob grins and trips over the overhead cord. He falls onto the front seat and knocks her books off the desk. Her organizer falls on the ground, open.
“I’m so sorry,” he says quickly, and bends down to pick up the organizer and her books. She is gazing at him, mouth open in astonishment. He sets them back on her desk and gives her a smile. “You’re Jamie, right?” She nods, her mouth still hanging open. “Cool. See you around.” The bell rings and he twirls into his seat in the back, much to the delight of the popular girl and her friends.

“Now, class, today I’m going to hand back your tests.” Jamie has her head on her hand as she stares into space. The teacher’s voice drifts in and out of her mind. “I was disappointed with the scores. . .”
He smiled at me.
“The class average was about a C+.”
He knew my name.
“The only one to get a hundred percent was Jamie.”
He said he would see me around!
“Jamie?” Everyone is staring as she snaps out of her daydream.
“I’m sorry , Mr. Hash. What was the question?” She tries to control the redness spreading across her face and fails.
“I was just saying that you were the only one to get a hundred percent on the test. Good job,” he says, smiling at her worriedly.
“Thank you, sir.” Jamie accepts the paper from him and glances at it before throwing it in her folder. She tries to ignore the whispers coming from the back.
“She’s such a teacher’s pet.”
“She probably spent all her time studying.”
“Yeah, but you can do that when you don’t have a life.”
“Seriously, she has, like, no friends.” The insults don’t affect her as much as they used to. She supposes that after years of the same thing, she is accustomed to their taunting. Whereas just a few years earlier she would have burst into tears and run out of the classroom, now she just looks down at her planner sadly. They’re just jealous. That was what her mother always told her. They’re just jealous of your brains, honey. Don’t listen to them.
“I bet she’s never even had a friend in her life!”
They’re just jealous.
“Yeah, but who would want to be?” More giggles.
Just jealous.
“No one, of course.”
Jealous. . .
“Hey, smart girl!” Something hits the back of her head and she jerks in surprise. “Nice catch!” She doesn’t turn around. Turning around only makes them worse. Turning around makes them want to destroy you even more. It’s like throwing a huge bucket of blood into a small shark-infested pond. It works them into a frenzy, and they want more. They always want more.


The next day proceeds in the same dreary manner, until Jamie is once again in Mr. Hash’s history class. Today, the girls behind her are silent, and she wants so badly to turn around and see what they are doing. She resists the temptation, deciding they are just waiting for her to turn around so that they can do some sort of frontal attack. She steels herself for the worst.
Surprisingly, nothing happens for the first half hour of the class. Then, just as the clock strikes 2:30, something hits her in the back of the head. Inside, her heart sinks. Can’t she get through one class without being harassed? Is one hour too much to ask?
“Jamie!” whispers someone from the back. “Jamie, turn around.” Jamie turns around, despite herself. Rob is looking at her, and he animatedly gestures toward a piece of paper lying on the floor. She picks it up slowly and her eyes widen.
It’s a note! Someone has actually written Jamie Maybin a note! And that someone is Rob Myers, star quarterback of the varsity football team and captain of the basketball team, not to mention one of the hottest guys in school. No, he’s the hottest guy in school.
She carefully opens it, and printed on the note is a message.

Jamie-
Hey, what’s up? I hope you’re doing good.
So, are you doing anything right after school?
Meet me by the statue of the school founder by the baseball field.
I’ve got a surprise for you.
-Rob

She wants to scream in joy as she turns around and nods to Rob, who immediately grins and shares a high-five with his best friend. The girls all give Jamie a dirty look, but she doesn’t care. She’s just been asked out by the most sought-after guy in school. No one can touch her now.

The last thirty minutes of the class crawl by for Jamie and as soon as the bell rings she jumps out of her seat and races to her locker. Can’t be late, got to meet Rob. The very thought of Rob makes her spine tingle, and she drops her books. She swears under her breath and kneels down to pick them up.
After fumbling through the hallways with her packed backpack, she makes it outside and practically runs to the baseball field. Just before arriving, she check herself to make sure she looks fine and doesn’t look like she was running there. The founder’s statue is actually behind the baseball field, and near a small forest. When she gets to the statue, there is no one there. This doesn’t discourage her. Rob is always late. She sits on the edge of the statue and drops her backpack onto the ground.

She is only kept waiting for five more minutes. Something splats against the stone right next to her head. Slowly, she turns her head to look at what it is. It looks like what used to be a small, white egg. What is an egg doing-
Her thought is interrupted as something hard hits her in the stomach. She lurches forward and another egg falls to the ground, not even broken. Eggs suddenly come flying out of the woods, many hitting her in the head, and she sinks to the ground.
Where is Rob? Rob will save me . . .
She curls up on the ground in the fetal position as she is still pelted with eggs. It seems like forever before the eggs stop hitting her. She is shaking as someone approaches her. She slowly looks up and sees Rob standing over her, a stupid grin on his face. He prods her lightly with his toe.

“You loser, I can’t believe you actually thought I would meet you after school!” His voice is low and hate-filled, and the woods seem to ring with laughter, signaling the presence of his friends. “Like I would ever go out with a geek like you!” He walks away and pauses for a moment, doing something that Jamie can’t see from her position. Then he walks into the woods, and laughter again rings out.
An eternity passes and Jamie is still lying on the ground, the egg yolks plastered in her long, thin brown hair and clothes. Another eternity later, she finally works up the strength to stand. She is not crying, not anymore, not ever again. She walks over to her backpack, her legs wobbly and her knees threatening to give out. She starts to pick it up and then pulls away as she feels something wet on it. Gingerly, she leans over and sniffs it. Coke. They poured Coke all over her backpack. Then she shakes her head. Not them. Him. Rob. The ringleader. The one person in the entire world who had seemed to actually care about her had finally come to his senses.
As she opens her backpack, her eyes threaten to start pouring out tears again. All of her homework, papers, books, all are completely covered with the dark syrupy liquid. They are ruined and smeared. All of her hard work, gone in an instant. She turns away as a bout of nausea hits her and she throws up right there next to the statue of the founder.

Somehow she makes it home and into her room. She drops her backpack wearily as she hears her mother and father fighting in the kitchen. Why do they always fight? Maybe it’s me. . . Maybe I’m the problem. . .
A feeling of clarity suddenly overcomes her. She knows what she has to do. She understands perfectly now. It was never Rob’s fault, or any of the others who had tormented her all her life. It wasn’t even her parent’s fault that they are fighting. That is her fault, too. Her fault. Everything is her fault. And she is going to fix it. She is going to fix it right now.

Walking almost trance-like, Jamie makes her way to her parents room and crosses over to her father’s dresser. She opens the third drawer and starts digging through it. Past the layers of socks and white t-shirts she finds what she is looking for. She walks back to her room as her parents begin screaming at each other.
Jamie has only heard about this in movies. She has only the slightest idea what to do, but she will do it as well as she can. She owes everyone who has suffered because of her that. She decides not to leave a note. Everyone would be better off if they just forgot her, and a note may make them remember. She just wants it to end.

Raising the gun to her head, she pauses one more time to consider her choice. Would there be one person who will grieve over her death? No, everyone hates her. She even hates herself. She just wants it to end, all of the pain, all of the suffering, all of the torment.
Jamie cocks the gun determinedly. They all hate her. No one wants her. No one cares. It would be better for everyone if she wasn't there, if she had never been born.
She pulls the trigger.
No one will bother her ever again.




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