With the bag pressed against my stomach, I carefully look around to see if any groups are hiding behind the lush rhododendron, but I don’t see anyone.
I never wanted to go to this school. Unfortunately, Kensington is the only high school in the area that accepts psychological assessments and medical certificates. Or rather, the teachers agree to forego oral grades and accept homework instead of presentations.
On the outside, the school seems so peaceful I could scream. The building is a modernized brick, more reminiscent of a Victorian abbey than a high school.
I begged Dad to take me out of this school and try homeschooling, but he refused, saying I would only isolate myself even more.
After a moment’s hesitation, I take a deep breath and scurry through the door, rushing through the imposing brick hall with its high ceilings. The smell alone turns my stomach. It smells old and venerable, like incense or a church.
I peer around the corner and check the hallway.Damn!Brent’s clique, of all people, is standing in front of the lockers. Tenth graders.Bad!Younger than me but taller, and they adore Chester and Hunter. They constantly feel the need to prove to them how cool they are so they’re invited to all the high society-parties.
For a moment, I want to retreat into the hall, but one of them has already spotted me, so I keep moving. Maybe they’ll leave me alone today since they’re late, too.
I lower my head and try to pass inconspicuously, but I know it’s pointless. I hear at least one asinine remark.
Don’t look at them! Pretend they aren’t there!
Suddenly, it’s quiet; their conversations have stopped. I’m right there, passing them, mentally steeling myself against the attack that I never see coming in time.
“Hey, Montgomery!” Without warning, I’m shoved from behind and hit the brick wall opposite the lockers. A sharp pain shoots through my shoulder where yet another bruise is, but no sound comes out of my mouth.
I try to hurry on without looking at any of them, but I’m not that lucky. They run after me like animals on the prowl. “Montgomery,” someone says under his breath. “Montgomery,”echoes a whole choir. I feel their sensation-mongering crackling in the incense-filled air.
“Hey, Montgomery, say something!” I’m shoved again, this time so hard I stagger and hit the side of my head against the wall. Hyena-like laughter buzzes around me.
I clutch my bag and put one foot in front of the other. My temple is throbbing, and I want to get away from here—ideally, millions of light-years away.
“Stop ignoring us! Wait!” Brent grabs my arm and shoves me roughly toward the lockers. “You’re late again today!” He stands purposefully in front of me, meaning that trying to walk past him would only result in further attacks. “Didn’t Chester tell you to be here before the bell?” The crowd surrounds me in a semicircle. My back is against the lockers, and a knob presses hard into my shoulder blade.
“Answer him!” a black-haired boy, whom I’ve never seen in this group, snaps at me.
My throat feels like a wasp has stung it.
“Zachery says she wouldn’t even scream if you broke her arm,” someone scoffs.
“She probably doesn’t even scream when she’s being fucked,” another shouts from the crowd. Their roaring laughter spills over me.
“Who’d want to fuck Kansas Montgomery?”
I stare at their white sneaker-clad feet and imagine that I’m no longer me.
“Say something, Montgomery! Scream!” they shout, maniacally.
Less than a second later, I’m pulled forward again, shoved, held, and pushed away again like a punching bag. Everything blurs before my eyes—lockers, heated bodies, and countless hands—but I don’t resist. Not anymore. My helplessness is too pathetic. Instead, I escape in my mind, hearing the metallicclatter and the gibberish shouts as if from a distance, feeling the pain with only part of my consciousness. The other part waits for everything to be okay and thinks about the beautiful words of Rumi inKansas’s Strange & Beautiful Words: A Collection.
But I am free as the wind. Words I read somewhere once.Become heaven!Words from back then with the Davenports.Because I can’t sleep, I make music at night.
I hold on to these words, which are so sad and wonderful, and as always, after a while, the Hills stop for a reason I never truly understand.
Maybe they just get bored.
I stand there quietly, staring at the ground. My heart is pounding so loudly that it seems to fill the tall hallway, but I show no emotion, even though everything hurts.
“By the way, just so you know,” I hear Brent say, “Chester has something planned. He didn’t want to give much away, but he promised us a lot of fun.” Someone snorts. The next moment, Brent viciously punches my upper arm. “This is for your stupid silence.”
I don’t move, but his words echo in my mind. When he strikes again, I flinch.
The black-haired man laughs.
