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She walked, silent, trembling, atop a black, still ocean, no stars, and no moon to guide her path. One step, then another, and then another, the water casting a glass-like reflection of her own fearful face, of her own fearful movements. She knew that out there in the darkness was the barely visible outline of a boy, just a little older than her. A boy she knew and loved, and yet, a boy who casted darkness with every movement of his. She became filled with a sense of dread, of uncertainty, of pure terror. The trembling of her body grew worse, the water beginning to ripple underneath her and splash her legs coldly. The girl didn't know what was happening, nor why- she only knew the feeling, the familiar and yet unfamiliar sense of fear, the unpleasant sickening weight in her stomach and painful clenching of her jaw. The way her hands subconsciously turned into fists, and the way the cold tears streamed down her face. No reason, no explanation, just the darkness, and the terror, and the cold.

She awoke with a start. Just another day... a school day, at that.

Sarah was completely ordinary. Not attractive, not unattractive, her dark-toned face dotted with more red acne than stars in the night sky, and frizzy hair that stayed frizzy no matter the amount of product she put in it. Sarah and her mom had recently moved to Jacksin, and like any young teenager, she was incredibly upset to move schools.

This and a few other reasons explained the overwhelming sense of dread as she walked into the school, almost mimicking her nightmare. She had her hood up, a dark backpack slung over her shoulder, and treaded slowly and exhaustedly, her plaguing nightmares leaving her tired constantly. Sarah made her way to her locker and clicked it open, placing her backpack inside with a subconscious attitude. Two large books in hand, she closed the metal door, and began to walk towards her first hour class, checking the schedule on her phone, and taking a deep, begrudging breath. I don't want to be here, she thought solemnly.

Suddenly, a short boy bumped into her. She looked down at him with distaste. The first few things she noticed about him were his freckles, a nose far too big, and a chin far too small. He was pasty and pale, his complexion the complete opposite of hers. He had orange curly hair nearly as frizzy as hers, and wide blue eyes. He looked like a child.

"Oh, sorry, kid," Sarah murmured at last, then walked around him.

"Hey, you're the new girl?" He had begun to walk beside her. The childish boy had a distracting bounce in his step and a radiant glow in his eyes. Sarah groaned audibly in annoyance. It wasn't exactly the type of positivity she yearned for; it was more like the ignorance of a needy little kid. Already, her mind was circling with sharp insults, and thoughts of leave me alone!

"What about it, kid?" She asked sharply, avoiding his eyes.

He grinned excitedly, "Oh, boy! You're a lot prettier than most people thought you would be!"

Sarah growled, "Oh really?" Great, she thought to herself, rumours spread just as fast as they did at my last school. What a disaster.

"Yep! What class do you have? Can I check your schedule? You know, I don't really have that many friends around-" he was cut off as Sarah shoved a crumpled piece of paper, her schedule, into his hands, and rolled her eyes. Yet, his eyes began to glow  even brighter than they already were. If he knows we don't have any classes together, she had thought, then maybe he'll leave me the hell alone.

"Well, would you look at that! We've got like, all of our classes together!"

With that sentence, Sarah flinched, and immediately knew that the sickening, anxious feeling that had been following her wasn't going to go away. Today, she thought, feeling lower than dirt and more annoyed than- well, anyone- today will not be my day.

When she finally sat down in her first hour class, right beside her was the bright and starry teen boy she'd met in the hallway, and she was suddenly wishing they'd had assigned seats, preferably away from each other. A broad shouldered, downtrodden teacher stood at the head of the classroom, droning on about his life in a monotone voice. Sarah, meanwhile, was forced to listen to the red-headed boy talk about whatever popped into his head at any given moment, as if he were an excited little kid . As much as she wanted it to annoy her, in the moment, she appreciated it; his squeaky voice  drowned out all  the hushed whispers from everyone else in the room, and she had no doubt that those whispers had been about her. It was 8:00 AM, and she was already having a horrible day; she didn't need to listen to the rumours about her, too.

"So, I think that we put jelly on toast and not on bread because bread is made from grains which is  a plant, right? And toast adds a cooked element, and bread doesn't. Which would make jelly on bread a salad..."

Sarah shook her head and slowly turned to face him, "No, no. Bread is definitely cooked, you idiot, otherwise it would be dough. And croutons are added to salad, which is also a cooked thing. And, not everyone puts jelly on toast. What about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?" A grin spread across the boys' face, and Sarah looked away and grumbled. She knew she shouldn't have said anything.

"I'm Jeremy, by the way."

"Sarah..." she growled. She noticed, then, that there was another boy sitting beside her, wearing a jersey. Almost laughing out loud, she noted how this blonde boy looked identical to Barbie's Ken, with plastic-like, flat blonde hair. Catching her eye, the boy smirked, and Sarah immediately looked away, realizing that she had been staring.

"Psssttt," he said, propping his chair closer to her, "You new?" Sarah bit her lip, still turned away from him, gently closing her eyes and taking a breath, physically fighting back the urge to hit him. She knew all about boys of his nature, and their flirting attempts. She despised them. The starry-eyed boy gave her a curious, wide-eyed stare, the way a dog would, titling his head. Sarah imagined him cocking an ear, and almost smiled mockingly.

Her expression shifted again, darker and more annoyed now, as the boy continued, "Name's Jacob."

Ignoring him, Sarah tried to zone in to what the teacher was saying, turning to face the board, but was continuously interrupted by Jeremy describing in full detail what his lunch was, or whatever else popped into his grain-small brain. She held back, and held back, counting, and inhaling, and exhaling, but the annoyance, the rage, and the unfamiliarity of a strange boy boiled over quickly. Sarah flipped around suddenly to face Jeremy and snarled, "Listen, buddy, I don't care what you're saying!" He frowned for just a moment, but then continued to talk.

Sarah's hands slowly turned into fists, white at the knuckles, dark face flushed. All Jeremy could seem to do was talk, talk, and talk... she just wanted to punch that curly-haired toddler. She was never good with kids, and he was certainly behaving like one.

So what was stopping her?

Nothing, she thought, with a sudden spike of confidence. In a moment, she pulled back, and aimed, and took a big swing right at Jeremy's stupid face.

As one could predict, chaos ensued. The teacher yelled, a few students screamed and scrambled from their seats away from the scene, and a few others gasped or shouted and ran towards the two to either help or get involved. As Sarah's fist collided with Jeremy's flustered face, the two's chairs tumbled to the white concrete floor with a crack that echoed in the room.

Jeremy was crying before he even hit the ground. He immediately started desperately trying to kick her away from him, but it just made him look pitiful. He simply laid on the ground, sobbing and kicking, helplessly unaware of where he went wrong. Scarlet blood smeared across his face, now. The kicks of his feet aiming loosely for her, his cry, the touch of stranger's hands on her shoulders, a hand at her hip, pulling her back. The touch, the hands, the noise- she wanted to yell, to rip away and then punch every single one of them. Instead, though, her blurred and terrified and enraged mind focused on the obvious one causing all of these problems: Jeremy. She grew tunnel vision, seeing nothing but him. In a moment, she'd torn away from those painful gripping hands, from the terror they brought her, and was hovering over poor Jeremy, opening for another swing at his face, while eyes surrounded her and watched or filmed.

Sarah felt more hands on her shoulders trying desperately to pull her away. She heard the screams and yells of everyone else in the room, but the chaos was only making the problem worse, fueling her rage and fear, and keeping her hands pumping loosely at Jeremy's body. She was imagining his face as someone else's, someone she could place but didn't want to. Her hands, something she could control, she could use, she could defend herself. The girl couldn't even realize, couldn't even pull herself away from her mind to focus on this horrific present. She tuned in on her emotions, the terror she felt, and the memory driving all of this. The memory of the boy in her nightmares, the memory of her best friend, the memory of those rumours that were spread and the difference between the horrifying truth and the embarrassing lies. The difference between what he had done to her, and what they'd said she'd caused.

Sarah was shocked and pulled back into reality as strong hands yanked her back, and she lost balance, smacking her head against the concrete floor. She laid there for a moment, stunned, as her sight returned and she became aware of her surroundings. The noise and chaos sounded like static compared to the ringing in her ears and the ache in her head and hands. She slowly touched her own face in shock, almost as though she was making sure it was real, and yet, flinched, even from her own forbidden hands.

She eventually pushed herself to sit upright with a groan, and placed a hand on the back of her head, genuinely surprised to find no blood, not even a bump, and she began to wonder if the crack had been something only she had heard, a snap back to the present, and in reality all had been quiet. Someone pulled her up to her feet, though Sarah did not appreciate it. Before her, then, stood a girl, with blonde hair and the brightest, most worrisome blue eyes she'd ever seen.

"Thanks.." Sarah muttered quietly, standing shakily.

The teacher neared them, a stern look on his face, and ordered sharply, "Take Sarah and Jeremy both down to the principal's office, Tracy. Jacob, you go with them and see to it that Jeremy goes to the nurse. This will not be tolerated in my classroom." The class began to file back in line, sitting back down at their desks, murmuring as the teacher began to calm them down. Sarah and the others swiftly walked out the door, not keen to be the center of such attention. Sarah walked confidently now, the pain in her skull nearly gone, though not proudly, not regretting her actions and yet also not glad that she had done them; nervously catching the eye of Jeremy, she noticed his bruised face, cut lip and bleeding nose, and felt a pang of pity.

Noticing her stare, Jeremy whispered, "It's alright; I'm used to it."

"Oh.." Sarah looked ahead of her. Used to it? What does he mean by that? Who else is beating up this poor kid? Then, dryly, other than me, of course.

The group made their way down the hall, took a turn, and ended up at the office in no time. And yet, the agonizing swirl of her thoughts, of the distant swelling ache at the back of her head and the real memory versus the one she had created in her mind, had made the short walk seem like an eternity. It seems, Sarah thought, my head moves faster than my legs.

Sarah and Jeremy sat beside each other in the cold office, facing a dominant teacher, probably the vice principal, while Jacob and Tracy waited outside. The teacher was a grey-haired woman, with a stern face, and small glasses. They sat in silence for a few uneasy, nearly painful moments.

Then, at long last, the woman hissed, "It is your first day of school, Sarah. I have been informed of your... past. But that is no reason to act out." Sarah looked her in the eye, unafraid for once in her life, and didn't say a word. Yet, behind her eyes, she could sense the uneasily calm tone in the woman's voice; that hint of desperation to spill a secret, that hint of agony to shame someone, to feel better about herself. Sarah lowered her eyebrows ever so slightly, ever so angrily, because she knew already that this teacher did not like her, for no benefit other than to feel good herself.

Jeremy sniffed, and quietly said, "Your past? What does that even..." he trailed off, curiously and nervously, fumbling with his pale hands, not sure what to do with himself. Sarah held back a snigger; his nervous composure amused her in a way.

The old woman clicked an ink pen, "Would you like to tell him, or shall I? The stupid reason why you assaulted this poor boy!"

Those words rang in Sarah's ears, pulling her into reality and simultaneously pushing her out of it, and she couldn't help but look the other way. She had known, of course, that things would turn out poorly like this. Sarah had never cared much about getting in trouble before, and did so often, without embarrassment, without regret. But those words shocked her, stunned her even. The stupid reason... The words rang profusely in her mind. Sarah thought, saddened and angrier now, why does this woman get to decide who knows my past? It's confidential, isn't it? She's not allowed to tell?

"Why?" Jeremy asked, picking at his nails, nervous and trembling uneasily still, his face flushed and red. Sarah noted then, that he probably hadn't been here before. But if he is so used to getting punched, like he said, then wouldn't this same thing have happened to him before? Questions began to form in Sarah's mind, less about the teacher and how desperately she wanted to spill Sarah's secret, and more about Jeremy and his.

The old teacher glared over her dainty glasses, clicking her nails against the desk, and finally, lowly said, "Not allowed to say."

I knew it, Sarah thought angrily. What a waste of time. What a rude thing to even say, to even bring up. Then, she wondered why the teacher had brought this up at all.

Jeremy was in sync with her, and whispered, "What's it got to do with anything, anyways?" Sarah could have sworn she was dreaming at this point.

"Well, ever since, Sarah has been quite the little hot head," The woman had the nerve to chuckle.

No way, Sarah thought meagerly, eyes narrowed. What is she getting at?

Jeremy slowly and shakily stood from his seat, sensing the tension, sensing the rudeness, "I'm sorry- I'm sorry. She didn't hurt me. I'm okay. Can we go?" Sarah looked up at him, baffled to find a warmth in his wide and watery eyes, in his bruised face. Why would you defend me? She thought, and risk getting in trouble?

"Your dad will want Sarah to be punished accordingly, Jeremy," the teacher hissed. Sarah began to bite at her nails, becoming more and more anxious and confused and unsettled with each passing second, wondering why this was all happening. A slight, horribly ironic amusement filled her, for only moments ago she had been silently mocking Jeremy for his nervousness, and now, she was the nervous one. Then again, she thought, this is all my fault...

Jeremy slowly sat back down, his hands shaking, tears beginning to roll down his swelled cheeks. That was the moment that the reality of the situation truly set in for Sarah; she had beaten up a poor kid who was just trying to be friendly. She knew why, but decided not to place it, to ignore the tumble of emotions that filled her gut and suffocated her. She had to move past them in order to live, in order to be okay again. Though, nowadays, it seems like a fantasy.

"My- my dad? No, he won't care," Jeremy stuttered slightly. One part of Sarah wanted to comfort him. Take his hand, tell him his dad does care. Another part of her wanted to call him a baby and punch him a few more times, just to give him a real reason to cry. Instead, she just stayed quiet, wondering again why she felt this way, wondering about the thing fueling all of the swinging and dramatic emotions in her.

"I'll call both of your parents, but for now, head back to class. Or go to the nurse if you need to. Dismissed," the woman sniped quickly, clearly tired of the entire situation now.  With those words, Sarah was out the door. Immediately, she bumped into a blonde girl, who she recognized as Tracy.

She quickly murmured, "Sorry," and then walked around her. Jeremy, Jacob, and Tracy all followed in a group. Sarah walked fast, shyly, and with purpose- a goal to get to class, to get out of this forbidden hallway, to get out of her head. To be normal again. And yet, a thought struck her suddenly, and she wondered, if I walk into class as is, wouldn't they stare? Wouldn't they have questions for me, questions I can't answer? She didn't want pity, nor shamed, nor any more rumours spread. More than that, she didn't want anyone to know the truth of what had happened at her last school. Thinking again, she wondered if she would be allowed to walk with Jeremy and Jacob to the nurse's office, if not to get out of class for longer, than to simply make sure Jeremy was okay.

After a moment of silent questioning, Sarah turned to him and asked, "Do you want me to go with you to the nurse's office?"

Jacob answered for him, lifted his hands defensively, and declared, "I ain't getting in trouble for that." Sarah bit her lip and didn't say anything, feeling frail, feeling porcelain. Of course I've messed up already, she thought. Of course. I always do. After a moment of walking, the girl decided promptly that she would call her mom to pick her up. Sarah decided that she couldn't bear to see the judging eyes of her classmates, to see Jeremy whenever he came back to class, if he did. She decided it would just be better to go home.