**Chapter Eight: Everyone sucks-Malia's POV**
957 Words
My body still raging from the audacity of that douchebag, I reach the school quicker than I thought possible. The adrenaline coursing through my veins propels me forward, and just as I step through the doors, I’m almost rugby-tackled to the ground by my friends. “Where the f**k have you been?” Aimee says in jest, her tone lightening the mood even though I still feel the weight of anger in my chest. Keira looks me up and down, a smirk playing on her lips. “Nice, ermmm, choice of clothes you have on there; did you get dressed in the dark?” The teasing prompts a chorus of sniggers between us, a momentary distraction from the chaos in my head.
“So spill the tea,” they implore, eager for the gossip. “Nothing to spill other than a drink all over me, by f*****g Kirsty,” I reply, the irritation spilling out in frustration. Their wide-eyed expressions tell me they can’t believe how ridiculous it all sounds. “He’s a douchebag; you were right, they’re all douchebags. I’m done and done with this conversation,” I add, trying to dismiss the swirling feelings inside me. Aimee and Keira exchange glances, disbelief written on their faces as they flank me on either side, dragging me back into the whirlwind of high school gossip. They ramble on about some goddamn party tonight, trying to convince me to join them. “Not even if the Moon goddess was attending,” I quip, half-heartedly attempting to keep the mood light.
Then, just when I think I can shake off the frustration, I turn my head and see Blake and Kirsty locking lips in the hallway. “Are you f*****g kidding me?” I murmur, the anger inside me surging like a tidal wave. Suddenly, the realization hits me—am I just a punchline in some twisted joke? Blake notices me, and the look in his eyes adds to the confusion swirling in my mind. I glance over at Aimee and Keira, who are still trying to convince me to attend the party. God love them, they mean well. “Fine, I give in! White flag—I surrender! I’ll come tonight,” I finally announce, feeling a glimmer of excitement despite myself. The cheers erupt around me as if the whole school is celebrating, and in that moment, it feels good to be part of something again.
“Are you coming to the game before?” Keira asks, a hopeful tone in her voice. “Now you’re pushing it—over my dead body,” I retort with a laugh. “But will one of you pick me up when it’s done? We can go to the party together.” I see their faces light up in unison. “9 PM; be ready!” they chant happily, as the uneasy feelings within me begin to fade into the background, at least for now.
Days like today frustrate me more and more; this school is utterly ridiculous. The atmosphere buzzes with excitement, and I can hardly wrap my mind around it. Everyone is hyped for what? A football match! It’s baffling how a game can eclipse everything else, transforming normally sane students into mindless drones, their every thought consumed by the fleeting spectacle of sport. Just get me out of this hell! The incessant chatter and clamor drain my will to engage, leaving me feeling more isolated than ever.
My thoughts drift to the party tonight, and I can't shake the flutter of anxiety tightening in my stomach. What the hell am I going to wear? I need to look hot and irresistible. This isn't just any party; it's a momentous occasion, a step into adulthood. Meanwhile, my friends are giddy with the anticipation of catching sight of their mates, while I’m trapped in my own little bubble of indifference. But damn, it hits me—at midnight, I’ll finally be eighteen. I’ll get my wolf, my connection to my true self, and inch closer to escaping this suffocating prison called school.
“Ms. Walker, are you with us?” My teacher looms overhead, snapping me out of my daydream. Oh god, I must have been completely zoned out. “Yes, Ms. Sorry, just—” I begin, but my voice is drowned by the snickers echoing through the room. No doubt, the rumors about last night’s events have circulated like wildfire, making me the center of attention. F**k all of them. “Quiet down, class,” our teacher attempts to restore order, but it’s too little, too late.
As the lesson wraps up in a blur, I make my way to the cafeteria, a slight distraction from the chaos of my thoughts. I stand in line, scanning the menu for today’s culinary delight, my appetite battling the anxiety swirling in my chest. “Afternoon, Brenda,” I greet the lunch lady with a forced smile. She’s always been so sweet to me, a warm beacon amid the coldness of high school. “Please, may I have today’s special?” I ask, grateful for her consistent kindness. “Of course, angel,” she replies in her gentle tone, brightening my day just a smidge.
With my tray in hand, I take a seat and wait patiently at our table for the girls to arrive, determined to drown out the whispers swirling around me. It seems like everyone has suddenly taken an interest in my life, particularly since the “popular kids” decided to drag me into their spotlight. But God, I hate this s**t. I just want to be invisible again, but everything is shifting, and soon I'll break free—if only I can survive today.
- Writer
