Girl Incredible

Chapter 7: Trolls

I turn, my own phone silent, while Mrs. Malcolm's angry voice cuts through the laughter.

"Rules, people." A vein in her forehead stands out, pulsing a bit. And her knuckles are white, fists clenched. Poor thing, looks like she needs some anger management classes or something. She's a steam locomotive chugging black smoke from the top of her head, the ch-ch-ch of her engine hissing softly in the dark. I blink and the room returns to normal. "No phones in class."

They all chime again. I check mine, just in case. Secretly, because I don't want to add to Mrs. Malcolm's discomfort, but I want to be in on the joke.

"Kit." Clancy Parker leans over as our teacher starts a first of school lecture, quoting policy on rules. Completely ignoring Mrs. Malcolm's tone and subject, Clancy shows me the screen of her phone. It's a picture of me. But wait, that's not me. That's my face on a pig's body.

Where did that come from? I try a smile, though I'm confused, while Mrs. Malcolm's voice slices the air.

"Every phone in the room on my desk right now. RIGHT NOW."

I deliver mine along with the others even though it remains dark and silent. So weird. Who would send that picture of me to Clancy? No offence to her or anything, but she's not exactly popular. I glance at a few of the others as they are tossed to the desk top and realize she isn't the only one who received that image.

Wait a minute. Is that what they are laughing at?

A tiny stab of hurt jabs me in the heart even as I smother it with a smack of happy. Huh. Well, it is kind of funny, right?

"If they wanted to be more accurate," I say out loud with a grin as I go back to my desk, "they would have used a cat body."

The class laughs. With me this time, I'm sure of it. Mrs. Malcolm isn't amused.

"Kit MacLean," she snaps. "Stay after class."

After... class? She must want to talk to me about school. That's it. Extra work or something. Because there is no way I'm in trouble. I've never been in trouble in my life.

By the time the bell rings, Mrs. Malcolm seems less upset. I wait for everyone to file out, a few of them staring at me as they retrieve their phones. I wait, a smile plastered to my face, though that little dagger of hurt seems to have made a home inside me.

I finally rise when the last student leaves, going to Mrs. Malcolm and taking my own phone, slipping it into my bag while she perches on the edge of her desk and meets my eyes. She's so tall, skinny and lanky in her black skirt and cardigan, she reminds me of a stork.

"You're the last person I expected to be talking to on the first day of school." Her lips elongate into a beak, the tips snapping together when she talks. Looks funny with all the tiny feathers sprouting around the base of it, covering her cheeks. She frowns, pinching her forehead in a sharp line. It makes me think of the line between my own when I make that face and I remind myself never, ever, to frown again. "Or any other day. What was that all about?"

"I don't know, Mrs. Malcolm." I really don't. Just someone goofing around, I guess.

She shakes her head, a few wisps of hair escaping her bun, a feather floating to the floor from the stork plumage over her. She really should wear her hair down sometimes. She'd be so much prettier. "If you're being bullied, please come to one of the teachers."

Bullied? I snort a laugh at the absurdity while the image of her as a skinny bird snaps loose and she's just Mrs. Malcolm again. "It was just a stupid picture. Someone's joking around."

She seems to want to say something, thin lips pinching together, beak threatening to return. I feel a stir of anxiety, glance at the big clock over her head. I'm going to be late for my last class of the day.

Mrs. Malcolm finally waves me off. "No phones in class." She says it like she doesn't mean it or believe it. That's too bad. It's the rules.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I'll remember next time." I bounce on my toes. "Can I go now?"

She lets me leave, new set of students filing in. I hurry past them, shaking my head. People can be so funny sometimes! I honestly don't get it. And I was right about the cat body.

I was.

By the time I enter my final class of the day-law, I can't wait to debate with my teacher over the finer points of the legal system-I'm the last one to take a seat. Everyone is looking at their phones, our teacher not present yet. They've been talking, I can hear the echo of their chatter in the sudden silence of the room as I sweep inside and sit. A glance around shows them all looking at their phones again.

Huh. I wonder what's so funny this time? They can't still be giggling over that dumb picture, can they?

This time it's Nina Porter who shows me her phone, only she doesn't seem happy about it. She's not laughing like everyone else. I glance at the same image, my face on a pig's body, only this time the word "DUMB FREAK" is written over top. I sit back, a frown forming despite my best attempts to stop it.

Anger bursts into a star in my stomach, smothered by a wash of hurt I then cut off with a forced smile. But that word-dumb-resonates for some reason.

I'm far from it. Yeah, I do my best to make sure no one knows I'm above their sadly average intelligence, just so they won't single me out. I'm happy fitting in, pretending to be ordinary. So why would the word "dumb" bother me so much? I can't even say it in my head and I'm reeling from whatever it means to me. Something stirs deep inside, a memory. Blue eyes and laughter.

Whatever is that? I refuse to look. It's obviously something irrelevant. I cover it up and mush it down, slathering it with good humor and optimism. Whatever this is, it doesn't matter, right? I'll just laugh it off with everyone else, because it's silly and childish and clearly someone is just playing a fun prank they don't realize might be the teensy tiniest bit hurtful.

Honestly. I don't get it. Where is this coming from? My phone dings at last as our teacher, Mr. Gladwell, enters the room. I don't even think as I reach for it and check the text message. Finally, someone is sending me something-time to let me in on the joke already.

Next time, stay out of the KingPin's business.

This makes absolutely no sense. I look up, realize I'm the only one holding a phone and that Mr. Gladwell is glaring at me.

I open my mouth to tell him there's been a huge mistake when he points at me then at my phone.

"UP HERE! NOW!"

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