Chapter 8 : The Glue Incident

Telling the teacher would be of no use. Firstly, the teacher won’t believe that they did this just because I befriended someone. Secondly, they would think I’m a tattletale. If you don’t know how bad that is, you should see what happened to Nancy. She was forced to go to another school because of the mental problems caused by all the bullying.

     At that point, I never understood how bad she felt and thought she’s too touchy. But now, I understand. And I feared I’ll turn out just like her.

     My mom didn’t help either. She brushed my complaints off. “Why would anyone do that to you if you didn’t do anything? Serena, you’re my daughter. You’re excellent. You can find where you made a mistake without my help.”

     I don’t want to be excellent. I want to fit in. If it means I could be accepted into the crowd, that I don’t have to befriend someone like Elodie, I’d rather be imperfect.

     I found that I’ve come to those most hated multiple choice questions on the test paper. The answers are given, but none seems right.

***

     The following day felt heavier than the last. I walked into class with a familiar knot in my stomach, dread creeping up my spine like a slow, cold wave. The whispers, the stares—they were all back. People who used to offer a smile or a quick hello now turned their faces away, pretending they didn’t see me. I passed by the group of girls, my old friends, as they snickered and rolled their eyes, turning their backs with exaggerated gestures.

     “Look who decided to show up,” Teresa sneered, eyes narrowing as I walked by. The mocking tone in her voice made my stomach churn. But I kept my gaze forward, trying to pretend I didn’t care.

     “You know, I really don’t get why Serena even bothers with Elodie,” Rachel added, her voice dripping with disdain. “It’s like she’s saving her, or whatever. What a joke.”

     I walked past and sat in my seat, telling myself getting mad will only make things worse. I’ll have to make them accept me again, not as the perfect girl but as someone as flawed and willing as them.

     I took a random book from my backpack and opened it, trying to review, but the voices kept interrupting me, making me unable to focus. I pinched my thigh under my skirt, reminding myself that there’s a test this week, a test that’s very hard. I need to keep my scores good, at least.

     “Still reviewing?” Brielle snatched my book from my hands. Her eyes seemed to cut into me, sending a shiver down my spine. “Don’t you know that no matter what you do, you’re still hopeless? Your scores will turn out just like Elodie, and you’ll be moved out from this school and lose your precious friend.”

     I kept my head lowered. “I’m sorry.”

     She laughed and flung my book at me. I manage to deflect it from my face, but my arms were sliced and bleeding by the sharp edges, the pages crumpled and ripped.

     I stayed there, lowering my arms slowly, gently probing my wounds. I can’t help thinking how stupid and pathetic I looked, a wounded animal struggling in the unescapable trap.

     A shadow loomed over my desk. I barely had time to look up before—

     Splat.

     A thick, cold sensation oozed down the back of my head.

     Laughter erupted around me.

     My breath caught as I reached up, fingers tangling into the sticky mess now coating my hair. It was thick, clumping between strands—glue. Someone poured glue in my hair.

     “Oh my god, I am so sorry!” Felicia gasped dramatically, hands flying to her mouth. "It was an accident!"

     Teresa snickered behind her, and Rachel was biting her lip like she was holding back laughter.

     The sickly sweet smell of glue filled my nostrils as I sat frozen, my stomach twisting. I could feel it seeping into her scalp, sticking to my skin. I touched my hair again and again, the once silky blonde strands matted together, the glue dirtying my hands. My fingers fumbled as I tried in vain to return it to its original state.

     “Serena! Let me help!” Felicia’s was filled with obviously false care and guilt. She took hold of a strand of my hair and yanked it.

     Pain erupted on the back of my head as the strand she held broke away from the rest, a jagged remainder left in a jungle of long ones. I yelped in pain and heartbreak. My hair was the best, the shiniest blonde in my family, and it was my pride. Before, it was adorned by my whole class, even the boys found themselves wanting to feel the golden strands. And now, it was ruined——in this manner.

     Mrs. Hall poked her head in from the door, frowning. “What’s going on?” She entered and saw my hair, Felicia beside me with the half empty tube of glue. “For heaven’s sake, Felicia, what are you doing?

     Felicia’s expression instantly turned remorseful. “I—I was just working on my project, and I tripped. I didn’t mean to…” She shot me a look—one that said, Don’t make this worse for yourself.

     Mrs. Hall sighed, rubbing her temple. “Felicia, you need to be more careful. Serena, go wash it off in the restroom. Do you need help?”

     This was it. My chance.

     If I said the truth—if I just said it—Mrs. Hall would do something. Maybe even punish them. Maybe this would finally stop.

     But them I glanced at Felicia, at the expectant way Teresa and Rachel watched me, waiting to see what I’d do.

     If I ever crossed this line, there’ll be no hope of being accepted again. Even if Mrs. Hall did punish them and make them say sorry or even force them out of the school, nothing will change. There’ll only be more Felicias, more Rachels and Teresas, more scornful glances, more glue incidents…

     So I shook my head.

     “No, it’s fine,” I said quietly, forcing a smile. “It was just an accident.”

     Mrs. Hall gave me a sympathetic nod. “Alright, go clean up.”

     I stood up, glue still dripping from my hair, and walked out of the classroom. I didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Their laughter followed me out the door and down the hallway, reminding me how pathetic, how useless I am.

     As I scrubbed my hair furiously in the bathroom sink, I finally allowed the tears to slip from my eyes. All the torture, the mocking, and the fall from grace was overwhelming. I do so want to go to another school, even if it means starting over, facing the old hardships. But despite all this, I still forced myself to hold on to that tiny sliver of hope.

     Maybe, if I just endured it a little longer, they’d eventually stop. They can’t do this to me forever, right?