Bully - Part 2

I did not know what it would be like going to a state school. I was very upset when Dad lost his job and could not offered the private school anymore; though I tried not to say anything. I pretended that I wanted to attend the local school. Even though Mum had assured me that it would only be a temporary measure, I was still determined to make a good impression. I had polished my new shoes and had put in my favourite earrings and hair accessories. Though I was still as nervous as ever. I stared down at my feet as the car rumbled over bumps and jolts. Mum and Dad were chatting away in the front seats: I think they were talking to me, they had been bombarding me with advice on how to make new friends for weeks; though it was not too helpful, as they seemed to contradict each other.

It only took a few minutes to get there, but even so my parents insisted on driving me. I arrived at my new school nice and early. That was Dad's idea; he said that it gave me plenty of time to make new friends. As they hugged and kissed me goodbye, I just could not help crying. The school looked so barren and hostile. There was only a few boys playing football, and no one else had arrived. I suddenly wished that I was not quite so early, what if I did something wrong and no body was there to tell me that it was wrong? What if this was the wrong door? I passed slowly through the iron gate as if I expected a teacher to jump out from the bushes.

I shuffled round the playground for a few minutes, not knowing quite what to do with myself, until another girl arrived. I was very thankful and was careful not to take my eyes off her so that I missed nothing important. She was walking straight towards me, and when she got close enough to speak she said to me, "You're new, aren't you?" I nodded meekly, "Are you going to be in Mrs Haley's class then?" The girl pulled an agonised face, "She's a horrible old bat!" Feeling even more stupid, I nodded again; my letter from the headmistress had said that I would be with Mrs Haley. I began to worry even more now, what if my teacher did not like me? The teachers at my other school had! The girl seemed to have noticed the anxiety on my face and she said to me, "I'll show you the cloakrooms if you like." I followed her round the playground for a little while and through some heavy swinging doors.

The cloakroom smelled terrible, but the girl (who was called Anna) seemed not to notice. She hung her bag up on a peg and I did likewise. There was a short silence that seemed to echo around every wall before she made another brave stab at conversation, "I like your bag. Where did you get it?" I was just opening my mouth to answer, when the doors swung open, and a small group of girls arrived. I was introduced to them all, and I suggested that we went outside; I just could not bare the smell. As the time wore on, more and more people arrived. There was soon quite a crowd around me. Many people would have enjoyed that, but I felt a bit intimidated by all the questions being thrown at me. I was naturally quite a shy person and did not like being the centre of attention, what if I said something stupid?

I was quite glad when the bell rang and lessons began. I followed some of my new friends through the labyrinth of corridors to Mrs Haley's classroom. I sat down next to Anna, and unpacked all my stationary and the few books that I had. It did not take me long to settle in. My locker was soon filled with exercise books, textbooks and files. In many of the subjects, I had already covered the topics that they were learning. Mrs Haley looked delighted when I showed her some of the work that I had been doing at my old school. I felt a glow of pleasure when she said that I could do some special work, and did not need to go at the same slow pace as everybody else.

I was quite pleased when I came home at the end of my first day. Mum and Dad told me that they had been worrying all day and asked me a multitude of questions about my new school. I, however, was fed up with questions, and answered them as briefly as possible. I spent as long as possible on my easy homework: then had a detailed conversation on the phone with one of my school friends from my previous school.

The next day was much the same as the first, until break time. I was just quickly going to the toilet, when I found that a girl in my class called Samantha was also there. I had never spoken to her, and I must admit that she did look very unfriendly. She sat in a corner on her own in the classroom and gave me very unpleasant stares half hidden under her unnaturally prominent forehead. Even so, I remembered what Mum had told me, about finding my best friends in the most unlikely people; and I smiled at her. I was quite shocked at the scowl she threw back at me. She looked positively evil, and I was suddenly quite scared of her. She was blocking the door and was at least twice my size. "Think you can just waltz in here and expect everyone to be your friend?! Well it doesn't work that way, Lucy." I stood, ridged with shock and she carried on, "Bet Mummy gave you loads of dinner money." She looked wild and her eyes were like tiny slits; I backed away as far as I could, though I was almost right up against the wall. Before I could even tell that she had moved, she had plunged her arm deep into my jacket pocket. Panicking, I grabbed her hand and tried to stop her, but she was so much stronger than I was. She stared at the five-pound note and coins that she had taken from my pocket, then at me. I saw mad panic in her eyes and after a brief and horrible silence, she ran out onto the playground, the door slowly closing behind her.

I was very shaken after that. It was not her words that bothered me or the dinner money; it was the look that she gave me. She looked like a wild, tortured beast attacking as a last resort. I shuddered, and tried to put her out of my mind. My friends noticed something wrong, and after some persuasion, I told them that it was something that Samantha said. They all began to talk about her, telling me how horrible she was. They told me that she was really mean for no reason and that I should not worry about what she says. All the same, I could not help remembering the malice glinting in her dark eyes, and I knew that there must have been a reason for that.

It was hard; however, to feel worried when we got the results for our test. I had found it very easy and Mrs Haley had smiled at me as she returned my paper to me. I felt an exited little flutter as I read the 'A, excellent' that was written on my paper. Anna saw it too, before I could hide it, and she shouted it out to the whole class. I could feel my cheeks redden, as numerous people congratulated me, but I did not really mind. I felt the colour drain from my face, however, as I caught sight of Samantha in her corner. She was glaring at me and ripping her own test into tiny pieces. It must have been then that I realised she was jealous. I suddenly felt sorry for her, she seemed to shrink and become lonely and sad. I wondered if anybody would have noticed if she had got an 'A'. Probably not.

I was quiet as I ate my lunch that lunchtime, some of my friends lent me some money; I told them that I had lost my money. I did not see Samantha eat her lunch; I wonder what she did with the money. Later, a few of my friends and I were walking around the playground, asking me how I did the third question on our test. Samantha brushed past me, and as she did so, she bent down so that her mouth was level with my ear and squeaked, "I don't think Samantha likes me very much, she never seems to smile!" I spun round to face her, but she was walking off. I knew instantly that she had been quoting from my diary. To the surprise of all my friends, I suddenly ran to the cloakrooms where my bag was. As I arrived there, I saw that one of the seams had split, and there was mud dribbling out of the hole. Dismayed, I rushed over to my bag and examined it's interior. Every page of my new exercise books was coated in mud and rotting leaves and the lining of my bag was slimy with filth. Panic-stricken, I searched the back pocket for my diary, but it felt horribly empty. I tried to recall all the embarrassing things that I had written in my diary, all the things that Samantha would be reading.

My friends were very shocked when they arrived and saw my in such a state. Even though I did not tell them that my diary was missing, they still insisted that I told Mrs Haley about my bag. I agreed, but reluctantly. Mrs Haley displayed my ruined bag in front of the class after lunch that day, and there was silence. Everybody was glaring accusingly at Samantha. Everybody knew it was her.

I could not sleep that night. My parents were very worried about me, I could hear their conversation in the next room; though I pretended to be asleep. I was very scared; what if Samantha went one step further? I would have to take a lot of care to avoid her. Though deep inside I felt sorry for her: I had been told that she had a very disturbed background and that she had been expelled from many schools before she came to this one. If that was the case, what was she capable of doing?

The next day, I saw Samantha plodding to school and wondered how far she had to walk and why her parents did not drop her off by car. I was having quite a good morning that day, I had been voted form captain and I was feeling quite cheerful. I had been asked to take the register to the office, and I strode importantly down the corridor. When I found the office empty, I put the register on the side and turned to return to the classroom. I felt like an ice cube had slipped down my throat. Samantha was staring down at me, blocking the doorway. I tried to side step her, but soon found that impossible. I do not believe what I did next, I felt ashamed of it afterwards, but I just burst into tears. What did she do in her previous schools that was bad enough to get her expelled? I wondered if she was capable of doing something similar again. "Please don’t do anything." I felt pathetic, pleading with her like that, but I could not think of anything else to say that would break the tense silence. I do not remember much after that. I was staring up at her through my mask of tears, pleading her to just go away. I saw her arm swing round and did not have time to duck before it hit me on the forehead with tremendous force. I felt myself fall, but I seemed never to hit the ground.

I do not think that I was unconscious for very long. When I woke up, office staff surrounded me. I think that one of them had called an ambulance. "I'm alright!" I muttered groggily. To my relief, I found out that they were only phoning my parents, and not the ambulance. I had to tell the teachers that it was Samantha. I could not really say that I fell over and bumped my head on the table: though I thought about it. In about five minutes time, Dad and Mum came rushing into the entrance hall, where the teachers had sat me down with a pack of ice on my aching forehead. They led me to the car and told me that I was no longer going to this school. I do not know why it was so embarrassing telling them who hit me. They kept on telling me that I should have told them how unhappy I was before, but I insisted that I was alright.

Just as Mum was hugging me and helping me into the car, the headmistress came trotting across the playground. Dad was very angry and started shouting at her. She told us that they had had words with Samantha and that they had excluded her, but that was not enough for Dad. I stopped listening to him after a while, because I saw Samantha exiting the school gates and walking slowly away. She glanced back at the scene my Father was making, and she suddenly seemed to have lost her evil look. I wondered what kind of a house and family that she was returning to. She looked lost, alone and friendless. My heart suddenly full of pity, I smiled at her. To my great surprise, she smiled back. It was only a small smile, but her face seemed to light up with gratitude and with a strange longing. It was then that I remembered, for the second time, what Mum had told me. Sometimes you can find your best friends in the most unlikely people.