Try to Remember

Shirley and Vanessa were like sisters. They were the kind of best friends who knew they would never break their friendship. Ever.
But Vanessa had a supernatural secret which she had never told to anyone. When she tells Shirley about it, the last thing she expects Shirley to do is hate her.
But that's exactly what she does...


2. Freaks Don't Belong In Middle School


I’m sitting on the steps at the entrance to the school when someone kicks me in the back. I don’t have to look up to know who it is.

“Hey Freakbrain, I thought I’d told you to shoo.”

I don’t move. I’m sick of this. I’m sick of her. Maybe if I just ignore her…

There is another kick in my lower back, harder this time. Almost painful.

“Get off the steps, Freako. People would like to walk down them.”

“Walk past me, then.”

I know, as I’ve said it, that it’s a horrible mistake. A third kick sends waves of pain rippling along my back. I clench my teeth in agony, determined not to give in. I stand up.

“Look, Shirley, I don’t know why you’re doing this, but it’s enough! I was your best friend, and I don’t know why that had to change.”

Shirley laughs. “Well, I do. It’s because you’re a—“

Freak.” It’s the first time I’ve said it. “No, I’m not, and you know it. Come on, Shirley. We were going to do so much…”

“You mean live next door? Visit each other every day?” The posse snickers. “Come on, Loony. We were kids. That was primary school. This is the world of middle school. And we, well… we call it the real world. You don’t belong in it, Freak.”

And before I can say anything, she’s pushed me off the stairs.

I hit the ground with a painful jolt which goes right up my arm and my already hurting spine. I can feel the tears in my eyes as I pull myself to my feet, trying not to listen to the posse’s laughter and Shirley’s smirks. I grab hold of my schoolbag, and try one more time. “Please, Shirley. At least… try to remember.”

She looks straight at me, and for a moment I think I see something in her eyes.


I turn around and run down the rest of the stairs, tears stinging my eyelids. I cradle my hurt arm and run all the way to my house. I ignore my mother’s greeting and sprit to my room, where I close the door, lie face down on the bed and cry, and cry, and cry.


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