Standing Out
Chapter 2: “Miserable Monday”

In a huff, I grabbed by books and shoved them into my backpack. It was time for school and if I didn’t move faster, I knew that I would miss the bus. Because Jeanne was in middle school, she was already gone. I couldn’t help noticing that her grade had a much more rigorous schedule. At the time, middle school seemed daunting to me.

In a hurry, I threw on some clothes and ran downstairs to eat. Pleasantly surprised, Mama had left me some pancakes and a note before she had left for work. I love you, sweetheart. I could imagine her face glowing with warmth and it filled me with joy. Once I finished dousing the pancakes in syrup and had gobbled them down, I sprinted upstairs to brush my teeth. As I made the move to comb my hair, my eyes met the mirror in horror. You really are ugly. I felt crestfallen. Patches of hair were missing and I appeared to have no eyebrows. When will it all end?

Distraught, I collected myself and walked out to meet the frosty morning air of Erie, Pennsylvania. Tightly bundled in my jacket, I was ready for the frigid January weather. I strolled casually to my bus stop and waited with the other children. I noticed as I neared they all shifted farther away. I guess everyone knows who the freak is around here. My mind whirled with misery. As the stark yellow silhouette of my bus neared and I could just make out the outline of the number 26, my stomach fell into a pit of dread. Here we go again.

As the bus slowly halted at the stop sign and waited for us to board, I hung back. I knew that Jessabelle was already on there waiting to jeer at me. I wasn’t sure that I was ready. But I knew that I didn’t have a choice when the bus driver’s impatient voice called out to me. “I don’t have all day to wait around for you lollygagging children.”

I narrowed my eyes and reluctantly ascended up the few steps on the bus.

“There she is!” Sara called malevolently. Nearly everyone on the bus turned to jeer at me.

“I thought only old people were bald.” Jessabelle laughed. Hot with embarrassment, I found an empty seat and sat down near the back, cowering under their insults.

Just when I didn’t need it to, my muttering habit started again and with it, the teasing erupted. Tears filled my eyes and I sobbed silently on the way to school.

It seemed like ages until we arrived at the school building, as the insults only prolonged the trip for me. As I tried to slip unseen off of the bus, I felt a hard shove from behind. My eyes filled with anger. I whipped around and my blazing gaze met the nonchalant expression of Jessabelle. “Oops, I didn’t see you there.” She laughed casually. A few students behind her joined the cacophony. “I’m not sure how you could miss her.” Someone piled on. I just sighed, anger melting, and trudged out of the bus to face my miserable Monday.

The red building of Mulberry Intermediate Center loomed in front of me, its bricks weathered, but its desire to positively influence this new generation set in stone. I tried to maneuver past the many students, but to no avail. Annoyed, I impatiently waited for my turn to walk into the door.

Once inside, I walked to my Special Needs classroom on the ground floor. As I proceeded into it, I was met with an overly warm welcome from my teacher, Mrs. Hauser. I faked a smile and put my homework into the bin for her review. She beamed and clapped wildly, her eyes childishly chanting, “Mya did her homework! Mya did her homework!” Amused, I acknowledged the gesture and sat down at my seat. Next to me, Jane, a girl with cerebral palsy, looked curiously at me. She was very intelligent, despite her complications. Her eyes seemed to ask, “Why are you here?” But if she was thinking that, she chose not to express it.

My various musings were abruptly cut into, however, when Mrs. Hauser called out to everyone. “Take a seat! It’s time for me to take attendance.” As she took care of her daily roll call, I slumped in boredom, fidgeting absently with my hands. Once she was done making sure that everyone was here, she began our math lesson. I couldn’t help but fall asleep. I tried not to, but I wasn’t learning anything.

“Mya, what’s four plus five?” Mrs. Hauser paused expectantly. When she heard no answer she realized that I decided to take a break already. “Hey, Mya, wake up!”

I blinked at her sleepily, tossing aside the desire to work hard to move back to the regular classes. What is the point of education, when you aren’t learning anything?

“Mya, what’s four plus five?” Mrs. Hauser repeated, annoyed.

I glared at her. “Nine.”

“Very good,” Her fake smile returned. “Now go show the class how to write nine on the board.”

My glare intensified, but I did as I was told. I couldn’t suppress my sudden sigh. The incessant praise felt empty. Everything was simplified and I wanted a challenge.

As I etched the number nine onto the blackboard so everyone could see, I began to cry. My teacher moved to comfort me, but I pushed her away. She would never understand. She would never know what it was like to live every day as though it were a miserable Monday, be treated as though you were unintelligent, and get bullied. I trudged back to my chair, tears streaming down my cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” She implored me to answer, but I refused. I waited out the clock and once the bell rang for recess, I was grateful to free myself from the binds of her searching gaze.

I flung my coat on and walked out to the playground alone, making a beeline for the swings. Sighing in relief I sat down and rocked back and forth, until Jessabelle decided to sit down on the adjacent swing. My mind raced and I felt apprehension stiffen my spine. I braced myself for her insults. Her first words were not what I expected. “I’m sorry.” She said simply. I was so taken aback that I was speechless. Hastily, she added, “I should never have treated you so poorly. It must have been hard to be bullied.”

I looked at her in awe, uncertain at where her sudden change of heart came from, but stunned nonetheless. “I forgive you.” I couldn’t believe that I choked out those words after all of the cruel things that Jessabelle did to me. Maybe Jeanne was right. There were people out there for me.

“Maybe we could hang out sometime?” Her eyes were hopeful.

I couldn’t help but agree to her request. Even though she had bullied me for so long, I held on to a small hope that even I could have a friend. As much as I didn’t like Jessabelle, I was willing to give her a chance. I was willing to give anyone a chance.