This is a safe haven of sorts. Many of our students have been through traumatic experiences. This is a way for them to anonymously spread the word, voice their concern, or it's a outlet for them to express themselves and find people who can relate. Please, no judgement should be spread towards anyone's stories. The following link is to an anonymous google form. We really do want to hear from you. Link: Voices
Smoothie Disaster
Normal. A word I never use to describe myself with. Although, right now, right here, in the middle of a loud, crowded cafeteria, surrounded by my best friends, I’m a normal 8th grader. Trin’s telling us girls the details of her birthday party, but I’m not really listening, she’ll text them to me later anyway. Michael, Peter, and D, are talking about a video game, I think. Maybe they’re talking about CW shows. Their conversations not quite comprehensible to my brain right now. Everything’s just a content blur. I’ve been attacked both verbally and physically by my peers my entire academic career. Lately though, everyone’s kind of backed off. Everyone except Maggie. The one person in this world whose goal in life is to make mine a living hell. Speaking of the devil, literally, she’s staring at me. Always is. Who cares anymore though. I can’t take this. Why can’t she just leave me alone? For 8 years she made school my own personal purgatory. I tune back into the conversation. According to them, I started to hold the table in a white-knuckle grip, breathing escalating. Why does she get under my skin so easily? I tell my friends I’m fine and jump in to a conversation about the social studies test we had that day. The one I aced. They know it’s a cover up, a wall. They know better than to push though, because I’d just pull away more. Next thing I know I feel a cold liquid poured on my head. I turn around, and low and behold, Maggie’s standing there. An empty smoothie container in hand. Her group of stuck up, rich kids are laughing. She’s smirking, waiting for my explosion. I can’t let her win. The cafeteria has become so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I know my favorite teachers on his way over. I can feel Trin and Michael's hands on my arms. I know they’re trying to keep me from lashing out, from punching her in the face. I shake them off, wipe the smoothie off my face, take a deep breath, look around. You could cut the anticipation of my next move with a knife. This year, no one's been brave enough to attack me physically. They know my temper and self control is even worse than it use to be. They know I’m stronger than most of them. Until now, most of them have just let me live a semi-normal life. I pull my fist back, Maggie coers. She clearly didn’t think the “teachers pet” would actually attack. That was all I needed. I broke out laughing after that. “Just because I let you off this time, don’t think I won’t fight back in the future. Stop underestimating me. Look where it’s gotten you. Absolutely nowhere.” With that, I turned on my heel and left the cafeteria.
Lunch Room Vineyard
I could hear Mae and Rae talking. My best friends, my only friends. Always there when I need them. My rocks, my reasons to smile. I tried to hear the conversation, participate. I wanted to be my loud self. Don’t let them get suspicious, I’d need to remind myself over and over. I couldn’t let them take away part of my burden, it wasn’t their responsibility. Not anymore. When Mae said the two of them were going to throw their trash away, I panicked but hoped it didn’t show. I nodded my head, not daring to speak, knowing what was coming as soon as they left. They walked away and I felt the first grape hit my head. Then another, and another, and another. Soon, the floor around my looked like a wine vineyard. White noise, that’s all the insults were anymore. I heard the same thing every day. My last name is Marley, big deal. According to one of them, I should go volunteer to be Marley in “Marley and Me”. I’m better off dead apparently. Don’t show emotion, don’t react. My daily mantra. Why did this happen to me? I always did what I was told, I was a good student. Why am I their target? I’d ask myself these questions daily. I stood up. I needed to escape. I decided I’d throw my tray away. When I turned around, I didn’t expect Conner, the ring leader, to be standing up. She was ready to pounce. When we made eye contact, she raised her right hand. I saw the light reflect off the ring in the center of her fist. It was like a catapult. Her hand pulled back, then there was white hot pain spreading from my eye outwards. She laughed. I ran.