Monday Afternoon

October 14, 2019

I sit in class, stunned and speechless, my mind turning over thoughts faster than I can process them as I listen to Mrs. Pelinskie. She reads off the pairs for the partner project that had brightened my mood this morning. Now, all it does is give me an unhealthy dose of anxiety. She'd just read mine, and I refuse to believe a single word of it.

Seth Rogers. Seth "Mop Head" Rogers.

My heart slams against my rib cage in despair. This cannot be happening. There's no way this can be happening. I refuse to accept it in any way, shape, or form because accepting it means an endless list of problems.

Mrs. Pelinskie continues speaking, though every word she speaks falls on deaf ears as I look to my partner, my stomach twisting as I find his head turned towards me. It's near impossible to see his eyes, black strands of hair hiding them from the world. He cocks his head to the side as if studying me, analyzing everything little thing I do. Goosebumps rise over my arms and I feel a light tug on my right ear as a lump forms in my throat. Breathing becomes a harder task than it should be.

The bell rings then and students stand, cutting off my line of sight. I gather my things and rush for the teacher's desk. "Excuse me, ma'am I need you to reassign me. I can't-um-there's no way that-it's just-" I stumble over my words as I grow flustered and desperate to fix the situation. Already, I can feel the eyes of my classmates on me.

Mrs. Pelinskie gives me a bored look as she sighs and says, "You'll just have to work through your problems and complete the project, Carmen. Partner assignments are final." She turns away in her chair and focuses back on her paperwork. It's an obvious sign of dismissal if I've ever seen one.

I huff in annoyance and turn on my heel, making for the door. My gaze catches on the lone person sitting in the back of the classroom once more. I can feel his eyes following me, studying me as if he can see beneath my sleeves to the hidden shame. I look around the room at the groups of two scattered throughout, everyone already making plans for their project and my heart sinks to my stomach. There are too many possibilities here. Too many sets of eyes.

Mop Head makes no type of movement during this time outside of a small smile that curls up the corners of his mouth. It's such a tiny movement, one I probably wouldn't have noticed had I not looked back at him. My hand lifts once more and I pull on my earlobe for a distraction as I turn and hurry from of the classroom.

This cannot be happening. There's no way this can be happening.

The thought runs rampant in my brain as I zigzag through the hallway crowded with other students shuffling between classes. I keep my head down as I go, making myself as small as possible. Despite this, my breath hitches as my mind plays games with me.

"She's partnered with Mop Head."

"How unfortunate."

"Ha, I'm sure they'll get along just fine with her track record."

Each of their voices drifts past my ears and I squeeze my eyes shut as I hurry along the halls. I hug my binder and notebook closer to my chest, wielding it as if it's a shield against the world.

Bathroom. Bathroom. I need a bathroom.

My stomach knots and twists and for a moment I think I'll be sick in the hallway full of students. The thought does little for my growing anxiety as mental images of the scene flash through my thoughts.

"You're okay," I whisper to myself in a poor attempt at reassurance as I glance up and spot the bathroom. I push through the door and make for the sink, dropping my bag with a heavy thud. My hand trembles and it takes multiple attempts until I manage to turn the sink handle. I wet my hands with blistering cold water and look at my pale reflection in the mirror, wetting my heated and flushed face before moving onto my neck, doing my best to calm myself even a fraction. "You're okay, you're okay," I repeat the words as if they're a magical spell. They're my shield against the world. The word to slay the demons hiding in the shadows with me.

My shoulders relax as I continue to chant the words under my breath. I pull in a deep breath and close my eyes. When I open them again, I meet the steady gaze of my reflection and nod. "You are okay." It's a more confident statement this time around and for a moment I even feel that it's true until the bathroom door slams open and a few of my classmates enter. I lower my head, hoping they won't notice that it's me.

"Carmen!" One girl calls out and my body stiffens. I glance over and give a small, taut smile.

"Hey." My voice is weak and strained. The girl whose name I don't remember walks towards me, getting much too close for comfort. I pull in on myself when she tosses an arm around my shoulders, my own arms wrapping around my waist. I angle my body away from her, a hint that she's too close. She either ignores the movement or doesn't notice.

"Oh my god, we were just talking about you."

I stand an inch taller at the confession, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. My right-hand lifts and I rub my clothed forearm. A trembling laugh escapes past my lips. "Really?"

What were they talking about? Was it something bad? Did I do something to stand out? I don't remember doing anything. What did I do? Is it about Mop Head?

The inside of my head fills with worrying thought after worrying thought as I overthink every decision I've made during this past week which isn't much since it's only Monday afternoon.

The blonde nods as she directs her attention towards the mirror. Her brows furrow and she removes her arm from my shoulders. "Yeah!" She starts and I watch as she pulls out a small tube of lipstick from her bag. "We were talking about Steven's big game coming up this weekend and the party Gwen wants to throw for Halloween." The moment I hear Steven and Gwen's names my body relaxes.

They weren't actually talking about me.

My smile becomes authentic and I look up at the girl. "The game will be great and Gwen's parties are always on point. I'm sure everyone will have a blast."

"Oh yeah," The girl nods in agreement and I get an inkling of recognition. I think her name was Audrey or Abby or something along those lines. A vague memory of Gwen going on a hate rant about the girl flashes in my mind.

Audrey or Abby continuous checking out her reflection with serious blue eyes as she reapplies her light brown lipstick. Her reflection's gaze darts to me for only a second before focusing again. "It absolutely will be amazing. Not a doubt in my mind." She finishes up and shoots a toothy grin my way. It's unsettling, the smile not matching the look in her eyes. I shudder and try to take a step back as I continue rubbing my bicep. The movement draws the girls' eyes downwards. "Oh, I love that sweater! Where did you get it?" She asked, reaching out mischief sparkling in her eyes.

"Ah, no wait. Don't-" I try to protest but it's too late. Audrey or Abby or whatever her name is, is already grabbing my right sleeve. Before I can do anything to stop her she's pulling it upwards, exposing my forearm. Were it not for the ugly, brown and white scars the skin would be pale and flawless, but the scars exist and my heart jumps from my chest as the bathroom falls into silence.

"Oh, my bad. I didn't mean to do that. I'm sorry Carmen." Judging by the way she sneers the words and the laughter dancing around her eyes she's anything but. My mouth goes dry as my gaze darts from the scars to the reflection of myself before coming to rest on the group in the mirror. Every one of them is watching me. Judging me. Laughing at me.

Ever since middle school I've hated being in the spotlight. I hate any attention directed my way. Nothing good ever comes from it. I learned that the hard way.

I clench my jaw, my nose tingling and face heating from oncoming tears of shame and embarrassment and swoop down, grabbing my bag. Turning on my heel, I dart from the bathroom, the school bell ringing in the process. For a moment I think I'm safe, that I'll be able to find somewhere to camp out on my own for the duration of the class period until I crash into a strong and broad chest. A squeal escapes past my lips at the impact. A large hand wraps around my bicep, the grip gentle as their other arm snakes around my waist, catching me from my fall.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean-and I wasn't looking-and are you al-" My tirade of jumbled up apologies comes to a grinding halt as my eyes cast upwards and meet those of my project partners. My breath catches in my throat and the only words I can utter are, "Mop head." The name leaves my mouth before I can think twice about it and I flinch when the long-haired boy raises a brow.

"Friend of the King and the girl larger than life."

I blank at the title and the right side of Mop Head's mouth quirks up in a smirk.

"Oh sorry, I thought we were addressing each other by nickname."

I blush and it seems to amuse the boy more. "No, I just-" I shake my head not sure what it is I'm trying to say as I lift a hand and place it against the T-shirt covered chest I'd run into moments ago. Warmth emits from his body and travels into my palm making the little hairs on my arm stand on end. I clear my throat and take a step away, my arms crossing my chest. "Thanks-um, thanks for... catching me." My voice gets smaller and smaller with each word and my eyes scan the empty hallway for any stragglers from class. After the bathroom incident, the last thing I need is for someone to catch me alone with Mop Head.

"Don't worry, I doubt anyone will see us." There's laughter in his voice and my gaze travels back to where he stands, hands now in his jeans pockets. Shame rolls over my cheeks like a wildfire in California.

"No, I-"

He shakes his head, cutting me off before I can embarrass myself even more with a lame excuse. "It's cool, I get it. Don't wanna get caught with the schools' most bullied. If I were you..." His sentence trails off as those clear hazel eyes flicker down to my exposed forearm. In my haste to escape the bathroom, I'd forgotten to pull the sleeve of my sweater back down. My scars stand out in ugly contrast to my pale skin. A gasp escapes my lips and I yank the sleeve down, scratching myself in the process. "Well, if I were you I wouldn't exactly want the attention either." He finishes.

I angle my body away from Mop Head, my gaze set to the green and white tile flooring. "I need to get to class." It's a weak excuse but one I use nonetheless. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch him nodding.

"Yeah, you do that. We'll catch up later to discuss this project." It's a statement, not a question and my throat closes up at it. Unable to respond or so much as move I'm almost thankful when Mop Head walks off first somehow knowing that my feet are glued to the ground.

A/N: If you enjoyed the chapter don't forget to comment and vote! It means the world to me and I love hearing from you!