silt
I once helped a bullied classmate out of the goodness of my heart. He was picked on, so I stood up for him. His family was poor, so I brought him breakfast every day. Until the day he shyly confessed his feelings for me, egged on by the other kids. I rejected him. And then, later, I heard him in the school bathroom, smoking a cigarette, saying, “Sarah? Oh, I’ve already had her. She acts all innocent, but she’s practically begging for it.”
I went from queen bee to social pariah. My dad went to his family to confront them, and his mentally unstable father stabbed him to death. My mom couldn’t handle the grief and followed him soon after. And there he was, reaching out to me from the dirt, grinning cruelly. “Sarah,” he said, “you used to be up so high, out of my reach. Now, look at us, rotting together in the
muck.”
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Then I opened my eyes again. I was back to the first day Mark transferred to our school.
Sophomore year, first period. Mr. Henderson led
a boy with his head hung low into the classroom. “We have a new student joining us today,” he announced. “Everyone be kind and welcoming. No bullying.”
We all stared curiously at the new kid. As he looked up, a collective gasp filled the room. Half of his face was scarred from burns. He had
no eyebrow on that side, and his eye looked like
a slit carved directly into his skin.
Whispers erupted immediately. “Dude, that’s
messed up,” someone muttered. “So unlucky.
Out of all the classes, he gets put in ours.” “I
lost my appetite just looking at him,” another
added. “Gross, how can he even show his
face?”
The boy’s head sank lower, his hands clutching
me and whispered, “How do you think he got
those scars? You think his parents, like, burned
him by accident or something?”
But I was suddenly wide awake. Mark! I was
back to the day Mark transferred. The day the
nightmare began. In my previous life, Mark was
ostracized the moment he arrived. He was the
oldest in the class, nineteen, but shorter than
most of the seventeen–year–old girls. And then
there was his face. He was withdrawn and
gloomy, and nobody talked to him.
But I, in my infinite wisdom, decided to be the
hero. I offered him the seat next to me. I
chewed out anyone who dared to make fun of
him.
Now, faced with Chloe’s question, I blurted,
“Who knows? Maybe he deserved it.”
Mr. Henderson was assigning Mark a seat. He
told him to choose, but everywhere Mark went,
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Ա cuuiiculing he was a laniu uvy. I 10
shuffled over to me. “Can… can I sit here?” he
mumbled.
But I didn’t do what I’d done before. I didn’t
offer him my seat. Instead, I stood up and addressed Mr. Henderson. “Mr. Henderson, I don’t want to sit next to him. If he has to sit here, I’ll just take the desk by the chalkboard.”
Mr. Henderson looked uncomfortable. Mark gave me a strange look. “Sarah,” the teacher said, “I just told everyone to be kind. This isn’t
helping class unity.”
I ignored him. God had given me a second chance. I wasn’t going anywhere near Mark.
Then, a girl piped up sarcastically, “Some
people act all ‘honor student‘ but are totally
two–faced. He just wants to sit down, you don’t
have to be so obvious about it.”
I turned to see who it was. Ashley. In my
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previous life, she’d competed with me for class president. I won, she lost, and she’d held a
grudge ever since, always looking for a way to bring me down. Later, when Mark spread those
rumors, she was the one who ran to Mr.
Henderson and made sure everyone knew.
I looked at her and scoffed. “If you’re feeling so
charitable, why don’t you let him sit next to
you?”
Ashley’s face flushed. She went silent.
I pressed on. “What’s wrong? Weren’t you just being all noble and defending him? Chicken out now? Or are you just as disgusted by his face?” I deliberately emphasized the last three words. I could see Mark flinch, his head sinking even
lower.
Goaded, Ashley snapped, “Sarah, that’s just
mean! Mr. Henderson, let him sit with me. I
don’t care what he looks like.”
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And so, Mark became Ashley’s desk mate. I watched her suppress a shudder as she pretended to casually tidy up the desk for him. I breathed a sigh of relief. I couldn’t stop Mark from transferring to our class, but I could avoid him like the plague. The tragedy of my past life wouldn’t happen again.
But now Mark was sitting with Ashley. Ashley was the one who’d stood up for him. Would
what happened to me… happen to her instead?
The morning classes flew by in a flurry of
whispers about the new kid. As soon as the bell
rang, Chloe bounced over to me. “That was so
unlike you! You were practically radiating
hostility towards Mark. You’re always standing
up for people, I thought you’d be all over
helping him.”
My hand trembled as I gathered my books. So,
that was how everyone saw me? A naive do-
gooder? Was that why Mark felt entitled to my
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anection? winy ne u rasieu oul with those nes
after I rejected him? Did he think I owed him
something?
