What They Call Her

They call her a loser. They call her worthless. They call her dumb. They call her nerdy. But there's one thing that they won't call her:

Yolanda has always been bullied. She tolerates it every day and when she's just bout to break, the baddest boys in town come to the rescue—the Fearsome Threesome. AKA, the Triple Trouble.


1. 1| Hallways Are Hazardous

Just walking through hallways are hazardous for my health.

People would be sticking out their toes and feet. Like seriously. Where am I? The soccer field?

At my high school, everyone hates me. No, literally everyone. But what do people say? Life's not fair.

For everyone expect for me, that is.

I've told my parents about my bullying "little" problem. But they're too busy with work and my younger sister, Emilia.

"Dad," I said during my freshman year of high school.

"Yes, Yolanda?" asked my father. He turned away from his computer.

"I-I'm...the kids at my school," I spluttered. "They're really mean to me. I'm being bullied."

Don't say that sounds cheesy. But how else are you suppose to say it?

"Hmm?" my father asked into the phone. "Yeah...yeah...okay, now wait a minute! I purchased that item just last week! Don't say - "

And he babbled on about his purchase of...something.

I told my mother.

"Oh, that's so wonderful, Emilia!" gushed my mother as Emilia just played another piece on the cello. "How about another one?"

My fourteen year old sister, Emilia, is like a princess. She hates my guts and has Mom and Dad wrapped around her little finger. She's all innocent.

"M-Mom," I said, knocking on the door a little.

"What is it, Yolanda?" asked my mother, sounding a little annoyed. Emilia just glared at me.

"The kids at my school," I said, staring down at my knotted fingers. "T-they bully me, and I'd like to move school."

Mom just frowned. "Why?"

I stared bewildered at her. Why?

"Well why not?" blurted out Emilia. Mom whirled around at her.

"What do you mean, honey?" Mom asked.

Emilia realized what she just said. "Um, well, she's really rude to them, so they just do it back to her."

I wanted to smack Emilia all the way into China.

Mom turned back at me. "Yolanda..."

"She's lying!" I insisted. "Emilia's lying!"

"No, I'm not," snapped Emilia. "She's just jealous that I'm not rude."

"That doesn't make any sense," I said, blinking.

"Yes, it does," Emilia argued back. "You're so mean and rude to everyone at school. That's the reason why you don't have any friends."

"That's not true!" I yelled, stamping my foot. Wrong move.

"Yolanda!" snapped Mom. "Go to your room! That is enough!"

I slammed the door behind me, hoping to interrupt Emilia's wonderful cello piece.

So yeah, that's my home...

I got punched and kicked and shoved as I make my way towards my locker. I am soon cornered by the three most popular girls in our school. The girls that everyone hates yet envies.

Charlie's Angels.

They're oh, so, innocent all the time. I think the teachers see halos on their heads, but the rest of us, we see devil horns.

"Well, it's Yo Mama," sneered Brooke Clic. She's the head of Charlie's Angels. She's the "prettiest" and that girl that has the most followers on Instagram just for posting a picture of her in a slutty outfits all of the time.

She was wearing a rose skirt too many sizes small with a designer white blouse with a gold chain necklace embedded with rubies. Also with nice red stilettos with a strap that curled around her ankles. Her light brown hair was in perfect ringlets that cascaded down her perfect shoulders.

"Did you hear about the new joke?" Ashlyn Bones jeered. "Yo Mama so dumb that she got hit by a parked car!"

The three busted out laughing. Ashlyn Bones was the girl that was good at every single sport. She was athletic and funny, too (sometimes).

Today, she wore a gray and blue top that hung off of her shoulders showing us her sports bra strap and short shorts with hi-tops.

And then here's the dumb one—Candice Parkers. Blonde hair that fades into brown along with skinny black jeans, ankle wedged boots, and red top with butterfly wings an low gold necklaces.

I asked Candice about her hair one day.

"It's called an omelet," she said.

"Don't you mean an ombré?" I said, trying not to snicker.

Candice looked at me as if I've grown another head. "Speak English."

And she was off. The one thing that Candice is good at is her social media. She's the girl who has every single social media account that you can imagine. She's always on her phone, head down, and screen on full brightness. Main gossiper. She knows things like no boys business.

Although Candice usually doesn't get the Yo Mama jokes, she just laughs along. Or it takes her a while to figure them out.

Out of no where, Brooke shoved my head into the locker. Pain erupted from the side of my head and my eyes teared up a bit.

"What a wimp," snorted Ashlyn. "She's going to die in PE."

"C'mon girls. Let's go." And with a snap of her fingers, Brooke led Candice and Ashlyn down the hall and towards homeroom.

Whinpering, I bent my head down lower than Candice's when she's one her phone and tried to hide in with the crowd. I got more pushes and shoves into lockers and other people, but then I was just shoved into the last person I really wanted to meet—Dominic Clic, Brooke's twin brother.

He hates me just as much as Brooke does, maybe even more.

"Watch it, Yo Mama," snapped Dominic. He shoved me into the locker with a bang.

"What a loser," jeered Dominic's right hand pal, Harrison Bake.

"Wonder why she's still here," muttered another one of Dominic'a pals.

"Because I'm strong," I snapped back. "You can't break me down."

Dominic's glare darkened. "Challenge accepted."

And with a punch to the gut, he and his buddies left me against the locker, wondering if I had made a wrong move.

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