All Chapters of Bullied By The Badboy: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Did you read it? I stare at the note in my hands until the words blur, my teeth sink into my lips, I lean on the shelf and sigh. Yesterday when I came to return the letter, my note was untouched. But today, there is a reply. I shake my head like Let—I have decided to call the owner of the letter that—can see me. I didn’t read it. I only caught a glimpse of the first line and chose not to. But right now, I am curious. Is it someone I know? The handwriting is strange, maybe like me, the person has handwriting for different occasions. Tearing out a note from my jotter, I write out one word on it: No. Curiosity niggles me, I want to know what is in the letter, I need to know. I squash the paper and tear out another piece to put up a new response. A lie. Yes. Sorry.  Before my conscience weighs in on me, I shove the note into the novel, run out of the library and drive out of the school like a cast of Fast and Furious. I don’t stop to think until I am

Maria is still not here. I send her another text, she replies with a red face emoji and a wink. I should have come with my car. My gaze drifts to the brown building in front of the parking lot. The library is behind it. I am tempted to return inside and retrieve the note but I am too scared of him finding me in there.What if he’s someone I hate? I have considered the possibility of it being someone I’m mean to but what if he’s someone who has been mean to me? I go out of my way to keep to myself, for me to react, I must have been provoked. I rest my head on the hood of Maria’s car and try not to think of him. He deserves a reply, it’s the least I owe him after taking his letter. A tug on my back has me raising my head, I look behind to see Maria grinning like she didn’t keep me waiting. If she wasn’t my best friend, I would have knocked some of her teeth out. She taps on her car fob, a beep follows and I unlock the passe

I fiddle with my new bracelet, trace the tiny letter beads with my name on it while waiting for my turn. Miss Jota takes note as Whitney performs. Much to my annoyance, Whitney’s red pointed heels connect hard to the wooden floor of the stage, producing ear-scratching sounds. I focus on Miss Jota’s face, trying to tell if she’s pleased with Whitney’s performance but she gives nothing away. Whitney finishes with a mock bow, her friends clap and she climbs down the stage. Miss Jota picks a sheet from the table, squinting at the list. “Theresa Mower?” I raise a hand. “Your turn.” My heart thumps against my ribcage, I rumple the script and shuffle to the stage. Twice, I almost trip and the girls seated behind me giggle. I release my breath when I make it to the stage, turning to face the small crowd. “You are auditioning for the role of Juliet?”  “Yes,” I answer with a nod, very much aware Whitney also auditioned for that role. I must get it. Miss Jota recli

Music booms from the earbuds plugged into my ears, I slap a hand against my hip in rhythm to the song infiltrating my mind. My head bobs, I nudge the door to the drama room open with my foot and stop. Everyone is here. Well, not everyone but half of the school football team is present. I yank the earpiece out and shove my phone into my back pocket. My feet refuse to function, I lick my lips, praying for my brain to send signals to them but they remain glued to the floor. The room is packed with tall walls of bricks in the form of jocks, I can almost touch the testosterone in the air. Their heads snap to me in unison, my eyes find my sneakers. What are they doing here? “Tessa, nice of you to finally join us,” Miss Jota says. The cheeriness in her voice washes off some of the awkwardness, I smile and walk briskly to where she’s seated. I am only a few minutes late so I know she won’t reprimand me but the unwar

It is stupid. I can be prosecuted for this but I still think of it. How Ben’s finger felt against my lips.  Gosh, I’m so hopeless and foolish for thinking about kissing the guy who treats me like gum on his shoe. Last night, I had a dream where he asked me out. I press another finger to my lips, trace the Cupid bow like Ben did. Butterflies flutter in my belly at the thought of kissing him on stage, he has to play Romeo, I’ll be Juliet. My inner voice mocks my fairytale and a soft sigh escapes me. I am getting ahead of myself again. Maria nudges my shoulder, I snap out of my reverie, trying desperately to wipe the smug smile off my face but it sticks.  “What?” I yell when she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively like she caught me with a hand in the cookie jar. “Maria. Speak now or forever hold your peace.” Her brows only shoot higher, she winks and I roll my eyes. She does this a lot, makes you so antsy you start confessing to unknown crimes. “Fine, don’t say