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she turned
around to face him, he didn't even pretend like he didn't do it. He
would stare right at her, challenging her. She was too embarrassed
to tell anybody about it; after all, she was sixteen not six. Now
she had two problems to deal with: the fact that she wasn't doing
well in class, and the fact that a bully was tormenting her. She
started wishing that she had never switched into that class, and
that she had just stayed in German instead.
     
    Michelle finished washing her hands and was
checking her complexion in the mirror. She looked pale and tired.
The warning bell buzzed above, and she knew she had to face Italian
class one more time. She had it on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays,
and today was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Just get through
the rest of the day, she was thinking to herself, and then she
wouldn’t have to be back until next week.
    The second bell rang, letting all students
know that it was time to settle into their classrooms. Michelle
looked up at the clock. It was five minutes to 11. She really did
have every intention of going to class, but suddenly it just felt
like some switch turned off, and instead of walking out of the
bathroom she just stood there. Her legs felt immensely heavy and
her feet felt like they were sticking to the floor. It was the most
bizarre sensation. It was as if her own body was fighting her. She
had a minute to get to class; after that she would be late. If she
ran she could make it by no later than 11:05. But she didn't run,
and she didn't make it to class at all.
     
    Michelle found herself in the girls’ changing
room, sitting on a bench with her knees pressed up against her
chest. What was she doing there, she thought? She was actually
cutting class, and she had never done that before. She felt
horrible. Not only for the fact that she was hiding in the girls’
locker room, but because she thought it was pathetic to be cutting
class out of fear alone. She had let herself down. Michelle knew
that it was only a matter of time before someone found her there,
so she decided to leave the school grounds hoping not to run into
the ‘truant witch’ Mrs. FitzSimmons. Everybody knew that she wasn't
a real witch, and in fact was a very nice lady and she even laughed
when she heard what the kids had named her. But as nice as she was,
if you weren’t in class you were going to get a yellow card and be
sent to the office.
    Outside, the school felt eerily empty,
especially since it wasn’t and there were hundreds of students
tucked away inside the classrooms. Shuffling her feet, Michelle
slowly walked over to the back of the school where she would be
less likely to be found out, and from there she began walking the
school perimeter and praying for the time to pass. Once the bell
rang to mark the end of third period, she was able to exhale
deeply; she had survived. Of course, now she would have to deal
with questions as to her whereabouts during class. Michelle fished
through her locker to retrieve her cell phone which was buried down
deep, and texted Samantha to pick up something in the cafeteria for
her to eat. She would meet her at the bleachers.

    It was a particularly beautiful day for late
November. The sun was emanating white light, the air felt crisp and
clean, and all the plants and trees were incredibly green and lush.
Yet for all its beauty, the day was also very cold. Michelle sat
down on the bleachers, bundled up in her puffy jacket, gloves and
matching faux fur trimmed hat. She had the hat pulled down so low
that she could see the edges of the fur sticking down into her
view. She was in a lethargic, dreamlike state when Samantha walked
up carrying her hot cocoa.
    “Hey, space cadet.” Samantha handed her the
cocoa and pulled out a plastic wrapped Danish from the front pocket
of her own fuzzy hoodie. “They didn't have any fresh bagels, so I
got you this instead. I hope that's okay.”
    “It's fine,” Michelle said, taking the
Danish. Samantha settled