What Came Next

The next year, fourth grade, got better. I became closer to my friend, Alicia, over the summer, and I made friends with a new girl, Ginny. I introduced them to each other, and we became an inseparable threesome. We did everything together. Sleepovers, holidays, birthday parties, everything. They stood up for me (they said) and made my life a little less like Hell at school. I thought we would be friends forever. That wasn't the case though...

The next year, everything changed. We were all in the same fifth grade class, and we sat next to each other, but something was different. Ginny started getting more and more distant. She would invite Alicia to things and wouldn't even tell me about them. I found Alicia lying to me about where she was. It kept getting worse and worse. At one fieldtrip, the breaking point was reached.

I remember this like it was yesturday.

We were going to a farm for a fieldtrip and the bus seats were made for two people. That automatically posses a problem for a threesome, especialy one in my situation. Ginny and Alicia sat with eachother, and I asked it there was anyway for them to scoot over and let me sit on the edge. Ginny said, "No, there isn't any room! If you're so upset about it I'll sit with you on the way back, gosh." So, on the way back I sat next to Ginny. A few minutes after we took off she turned to me and said, "Scoot over so Alicia can sit with us." I was baffled. I stared at her and said, "But, you said there wasn't any room for me on the way here, how would there be..." "Shut up, Layla." That was the first time I carved words into an object. I took my nail and carved into the bus window, "I hate Ginny."

It was never the same after that. Ginny completly stopped talking to me and Alicia was avoiding me all of the sudden. She told me and Ginny wouldn't let Alicia hang out with me or she wouldn't be her friend. Ginny was spreading lies about me. Saying that I was really mean to her and noone should hang out with me. My mom kept telling me to go to a teacher, but I was always too scared.

One day, we were getting in line from recess. Ginny stopped in front of my lunch box, kicked it across the yard, and walked away. I was fed up, I went and told the teacher. The teacher took us both to the principal's office. Immediatly Ginny started crying and said she just tripped over my lunchbox and I was telling lyes about her. The principal took her side and told me I was the one being mean. Then he locked Ginny and me in his office so we could "work things out." In a really loud voice, sobbing, she said, "I'm sorry you hate me so much." But what the people on the outside couldn't see was that she was giving me the meanest, most hate filled look I had ever gotten. "I'm sorry.," was all I said. I didn't talk to anyone the rest of that year, or the summer for that matter. I just sat in my room for hours, stairing at a wall. I found running my nails across my arms and legs helped a lot. I couldn't describe why at the time, it just did. I have a pretty good idea now, but that's later on in this long story.