Enter your story of 300 words or less. |
The girls were laughing, all of them but one. Sandra was trapped between the solid brick wall of her school and a semi-circle of her least empathetic peers. The girls were all dressed neatly in plaid skirts and buttermilk yellow Polos, carefully washed and ironed. They did their hair in cute pigtails and braids and looked out at the world with big, innocent, doe eyes. They said words like, “Please, Daddy,” when they wanted something and words like “You think your mom left cause you’re such a fatty?” when they wanted to hurt something. Then they laughed like braying donkeys, heaving, high-pitched hee-ha sounds, hideous and animal in their cruelty. Sandra looked from one girl to the next. Each had her head back and jaw dropped showing big, white teeth and a flapping tongue. Spittle flew out their cavernous maws. It had not been a surprise attack. Sandra experienced this routine daily since she transferred here in December. The slap of their words had become as much a sign of the day’s end as the final bell. Now, Sandra surprised herself to realize, the abuse had become so mundane it was no longer hurtful. Instead, she found it…boring. With a shrug, she threw back her head and laughed. The other girls’ bleating ceased immediately. They stared at her. Sandra put on the same bewildered expression and stared back. “What are you laughing at?” Katie, the leader, asked her. “What are you laughing at?” Sandra repeated. “I’m laughing at you, loser,” Katie jeered. “I’m laughing at you, loser.” A subdued chuckle rippled through the crowd. Katie balled her fists and stomped her foot, “Quit copying me!” “Quit copying me!” Katie rolled her eyes and stormed off; the others followed suit. Sandra smiled. Is this how winning felt? (296 words) |