Alive? Or Just Breathing?

For a while, Scarlett has been depressed. It started in Year 7 when Claire, her ever-changing boyfriends and her followers started bullying her. Scarlett has know for a while it is bullying, but doesn't know what to do about it. Can Drama and the new teacher, Miss Talbott help?

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2. Chapter Two

I watched as Claire slid into the class with her boyfriend fifteen minutes late. The teacher asked them where they had been, the boyfriend said,

"Nowhere," he said, and called her an offensive name. The teacher looked at them through her tiny, half-moon spectacles on the end of her nose, before turning back to the board, tutting.

"Oi, you," I heard from next to me. The boy sitting there chucked a crumpled up piece of paper at me. Oh no. I only got notes from Claire and her closest follower, Megan. Which one was it this time? 'Tell me what the wrinkle's going on about so I don't look like and idiot, or I'll make you're life even more miserable than it is now, you piece of dirt.' I could pretend I'd never got it, but I'd done that once before, and Claire had caught me trying to put it in the bin, and 'accidentally' poured the dregs of her low-sugar-low-fat coffee down my new top. I put the top in the bin when I got home. Sighing, I started to write a response, making it as short and concise as possible, but in language she'd understand. Which is basically baby language. So it took me just less than five minutes, in which time, three notes landed in my lap, telling me to get a move on. A lot less nicely. I passed the note back through the now very disgruntled boy in the middle of me and Claire.

"Miss! Miss! Miss!"

"What, Miss Riley, are you shouting out for?"

"Miss, Scarlett's passing notes!" Surely she wasn't going to give the teacher the piece of paper with both her note, and my answer on it? She'd be basically giving herself away!

"Let me see, Miss Riley." Claire passed a scruffy piece of paper to the teacher. She read it aloud, "Claire Riley, you are a horribly nasty bleep and should go and bleep yourself." She showed the piece of paper to me. It was definitely NOT my writing. "What did you have to say for yourself, Miss McLaren?"

"But, it wasn't me! I didn't write that! It must have been Claire, she was asking what we were doing and I told her, but she must have written that to get me in trouble!" I heard a loud, dramatic gasp from a few seats over. I heard some other, quieter but real gasps from around the room. I had just potentially got the most popular, most powerful girl in our year, if not the school, in trouble.

"Ahh, so you did pass notes! Both of you!"

"But-"

"No buts, both of you, one hour detention. After school in the isolation room, 100 lines: 'I must not pass notes', brought to me straight afterwards. And if you don't go or don't finish your lines, double detention tomorrow!" Claire was now very clearly fake sniffling and had rubbed her eyes so they were red.

"B-b-but... I di-didn't d-do that! Sh-she's ly-ing! And her words hurt me a-a lot! She's s-so m-m-mean!" The old bat was far too ignorant and deaf to see or hear the fakeness in Claire's act, and the sniggering and stares that were driving at me like daggers from around the room. She didn't quite know what to make of the 'crying', so she clapped her hands to stop it, and went to the front of the room to get detention slips. Claire went quiet almost immediately, and shot a dirty look at me from behind her hands.

"Well, Miss McLaren, what do you have to say for yourself, reducing this girl to tears?"

"Are you going to let her off?" Please say yes, please say yes...

"No, the disruption of my lesson has given quite enough of an excuse for her to go anyway, so I will let the teacher on duty know that you're coming. Any more questions?" I stayed silent. Claire didn't care about detention; she probably would have got one today anyway. I didn't mind about the detention part either - I knew my parents would be angry, but I could survive that - it was the fact Claire would be there too. She'd probably get me to write her lines for her, whilst she made out with a line of boys or something. "Good. Now back on with my lesson. As I was saying, Trigonometry plays a big part..." I tuned out as the teacher talked. I'd done it before.

 

The boy in the middle seemed to have gone into a sort of daze. He had his eyes wide open, but gave every other indication that he was sleeping. When the teacher looked round, and her tiny eyes zoomed in on the boy's massive body sprawled across the chair.

"Mr Givens, what are you doing?" The boy jumped and his eyes went back into focus. He had been sleeping after all. "Were you SLEEPING in my class?" He looked a bit confused, as to why the teacher was yelling at him. "I think there's been enough disruption in this class today, don't you, Mr Givens?" A pause. "DON'T YOU, MR GIVENS?" The boy suddenly came to his senses and looked at himself, then at the teacher. His expression was one of horror and surprise.

"I... um... s-sorry. I didn't, erm-"

"That's detention for you too, Mr Givens." She handed him a detention slip. He looked downcast for a moment, then realised that Claire would be there too. He stared at her with an undisguised look on his face, that I can only describe as disgusting, dirty boyishness. She looked at his face. At first she looked disgusted, then she examined him, and finally, she slid her hand under the table and squeezed his leg. I looked away, feeling sick.

 

The teacher turned to the whole class. "And on that note, it is the end of the lesson. Everyone got up and started noisily getting their bags and books together. The teacher yelled over the noise,

"Your homework is to finish this lesson and complete any questions that you didn't finish on page 185 from your text books! I will email the lesson to you on your school emails so make sure you check them! DUE IN NEXT MONDAY!" She yelled the last bit as people were stampeding our of the classroom. I'd probably do it tonight. At the minute, I was trying to get away from Claire, her followers and the inevitable tongue-lashing I would get from them for the rest of the week. It would be worse than usual. I felt even sicker. It was worse when I was away from the adults Claire sucked up to: it was bad enough avoiding her looks in Maths.

 

I ran off to the toilets with my heavy bag and heavy heart.

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