-AN ESCAPE COME TRUE
PROLOGUE
The girl ran up the steps and walked through the big doors. The faint noise of mixed voices and laughter increased and decreased as she passed from one door to the other. She finally stopped in front of a grey door and took a deep breath before turning the handle.
She was late again. It was getting harder to wake up so early every morning, when she spent over half the night crying herself to sleep.
She walked in, avoiding making eye contact with all the faces staring at her. She quickly walked in between lines of mocking classmates already seated in their respective places. She took a seat in the back, where she usually could feel safer and hopefully would be forgotten and unnoticed until the end of the class.
No such luck!
The teacher eyed her reproachfully, "It's the third time this week, Gillian! I'm afraid I'm going to have to send a note to your parents!"
She didn't know what to say, so she remained silent. That was usually her choice, not to speak would bring less humiliation.
She started to get her books out of her backpack and could see in her sideway vision, Isabelle and her sidekick, Meagan, were laughing at her and probably plotting another way to torture her for the day. They were the " Popular cheerleaders ", which was so cliche that it was nauseating.
She couldn't believe how seventeen-year-old girls could still be so immature. The guys were understandable, men were known to take longer to grow up, but what made almost grown women act like total dunderheads?
"Gillian, I asked you a question! Your body seems to have arrived, but I think you must have left your brain at home!" said Mr. Hartlock, the math teacher. She used to smirk every time she heard his name. It reminded her of a character from her favorite book, even the vanity and stupidity was the same.
The class broke into laughter at his remark and she wished she could dig a hole in the ground and disappear. "What is it Mr. Hartlock?"
"I asked you to bring your homework to my desk," he answered in a tone someone uses to speak with a small child.
She panicked. What homework? She didn't even remember him asking for homework last class. She not only hadn't done it, but while searching her backpack, she found out her math's book wasn't in it. How could she have forgotten it?
"I don't have it, sir."
He let out a long sigh while the class giggled and some of the guys threw crumpled paper on her hair. She couldn't understand why he never punished them for that or even told the class to stop laughing. He seemed to enjoy putting on that little show, using her to show he had authority. It was easy to pick on the weak ones or maybe the ugly ones... she knew she wasn't weak, but she also didn't have much help from the class or anybody, for that matter.
As for being ugly, well, everything indicated that direction. She had had the misfortune of having a hair cut that didn't suit her, it was the kind of hair cut for people with straight hair. She had black wavy hair, so it curled in the wrong places, making it just plain ugly. She wore glasses, which gave her the geeky look and well, she didn't like anything about her face much. To complete everything, she wasn't what one could call thin. She wasn't fat either, but she had big thighs and hips. Someone could say she was curvy, but when they looked at the whole package, all they could see was a weird teenager who never got out of her awkward phase.
Hartlock was enjoying the attention, specially from the girls. Why couldn't she have a teacher like Severus Snape, her favorite character in the book. At least no one would laugh in his class.
"Then open your book on page thirty-four and go solve the problem number two on the blackboard." He wasn't even sure which exercise was that, but it sounded good to say it and the girls loved it when he was tough.
"I don't have my book, sir," she said flinching, already anticipating their reaction.
"Well, then you better ask someone to lend you a book later today, when you come to DETENTION!" He went back to his desk and stayed there conversing happily with the girls sitting at the front, while the rest of the class pretended to work on their exercise.
The little group around the cheerleading air heads was still looking at her in a weird way, and she was almost afraid to think what they were planning for today. That was one of the reasons she could never concentrate much in class, she was always worried. Of course, she wasn't the best of students, she could never excel on anything, her grades were horrible and she never liked studying those things very much. The few subjects she enjoyed, she couldn't even work well on them, because she was always distracted and afraid.
At home, her parents forced her to stay locked in her room studying to improve her grades, which made her rebel on that by not doing it, and instead, she read all books she could get her hands on. If there was a test on Harry Potter, she would have an A but the reality was that the Harry Potter world and literature wasn't the only subject at school.
Every time she tried to explain to her parents what she went through at school, they would call her silly and whiny. They would tell her to ignore it, to grow up, and all the other stuff parents like to say. This made her wonder whatever happens to their school memories after they become parents. They don't remember what it is to be a teenager and having to go through a whole day in a world where appearances and popularity is everything. Being different means being a freak, not being beautiful, means being humiliated and reminded through every second of the day how awful and inadequate you look.
Her mother obviously did not remember any of that or she wouldn't have forced her to go through the "pants humiliation" last school year. Gillian needed a new pair of jeans to go to schoo. Her mother had bought her a pair and apparently spent a lot of money in it. When Gillian put them on, they looked extremely awkward, the legs looked too large and wide, every time she moved, it seemed her legs were lost inside them. The material was stiff and it didn't move smoothly, making it look like she was wearing bells on her legs.
When she tried telling her mother she didn't like it, the woman got mad and practically threatened her to wear it. She had to go to school every single day wearing those hideous pants. At some point, she couldn't stand it anymore, if her life was hell before the pants, it was unbearable after. So she started to hide her old jeans inside her backpack. Every time she got to school, she went to the restroom and changed it. And everyday when she arrived home, she would run to her bedroom before her mother could see her.
That was working for a while, until one day her mother saw her coming down the street and noticed she wasn't wearing the outfit she left with. She got grounded and had her backpack searched everyday before leaving for school.
It sounded bizarre just to think of the situation, but it was the way her life worked. Things seemed to get worse everyday.
The sound of the bell brought her out of her thoughts and she breathed a sigh of relief. There was a game today, so the boys would play and she could escape for the library and read. When she tried to get up, her body pushed forward but something was holding her clothes back. Half the class along with the teacher had left, but her personal bullies were there waiting.
To her horror, that was what they were waiting for, the whole time. She tried frantically to pull her shirt and pants out of the chair, but it wouldn't budge. They had put crazy glue on her seat. The laughs started to crowd her ears and soon enough she wasn't listening anymore, just a muffled buzz and the dizziness...
She finally, after a lot of struggle, managed to pull herself out. The problem was that in order to get out, she got the back of her pants torn apart, leaving treads hanging and her knickers showing full view. She could see some of the boys literally rolling on the floor from laughing, the girls were looking at her in that disgusted way, she saw so many times on their faces and even though she couldn't listen anymore, she could see their mouths moving, forming the nicknames she dreaded and had to hear everyday.
She grabbed her backpack clumsily, letting her Harry Potter book fall on floor only to have one of the girls pick it up and start throwing from one to the other. Calling her "Harry Potter freak."
She retrieved the book and ran out of class, not bothering to hide her behind from anyone. The buzz in her year started to cease and she could hear them following her. "Hey freak, why don't you ask Harry Potter to fix your pants now?"
"Hey why don't you get your wand and hex us?" another one said, and there were more laughs. This time the people who were in the hall were laughing too, so she got in the bathroom and locked herself in one of the stalls. The girls got in right behind her and started throwing toilet paper inside her stall. They were getting the trash bins and turning them on top of the stall and Gillian kept trying to protect herself from the dirty paper to fall on her head. She clutched her book and closed her eyes in between the tears. In a very small voice, she started to repeat, "Help, help, make all this go away..."
At some point the trash bin hit her head and she cried out in pain opening her eyes to find everything completely dark. It was daytime and the bathroom had high large windows. How was that possible? She could make some forms in the darkness, which were probably the things they were throwing at her. She brought her hand to her forehead and felt a little sting at the touch. She was bleeding.
She looked for the trash bin that hit her and found out it was a bucket, a wooden bucket? Amongst all the questions popping her panicked mind, she suddenly realized it was silent. The laughs and yelling were gone. She tried to find her book and it wasn't anywhere.
She started to stand up again, terrified. Where the hell was she? She jumped at a scratching noise on the door and her heart started racing even faster. Then came the voice.
"Is she there? Bloody students think they can fool me!"
The door swung opened and the candle light invaded the stall. Gillian's mouth fell open looking from the man to where she was standing. It wasn't a stall, it was a closet. The reason for the scratching was a scrawny cat with yellow eyes and the voice belonged to none other than Argus Filch.
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Reviews please!
PROLOGUE
The girl ran up the steps and walked through the big doors. The faint noise of mixed voices and laughter increased and decreased as she passed from one door to the other. She finally stopped in front of a grey door and took a deep breath before turning the handle.
She was late again. It was getting harder to wake up so early every morning, when she spent over half the night crying herself to sleep.
She walked in, avoiding making eye contact with all the faces staring at her. She quickly walked in between lines of mocking classmates already seated in their respective places. She took a seat in the back, where she usually could feel safer and hopefully would be forgotten and unnoticed until the end of the class.
No such luck!
The teacher eyed her reproachfully, "It's the third time this week, Gillian! I'm afraid I'm going to have to send a note to your parents!"
She didn't know what to say, so she remained silent. That was usually her choice, not to speak would bring less humiliation.
She started to get her books out of her backpack and could see in her sideway vision, Isabelle and her sidekick, Meagan, were laughing at her and probably plotting another way to torture her for the day. They were the " Popular cheerleaders ", which was so cliche that it was nauseating.
She couldn't believe how seventeen-year-old girls could still be so immature. The guys were understandable, men were known to take longer to grow up, but what made almost grown women act like total dunderheads?
"Gillian, I asked you a question! Your body seems to have arrived, but I think you must have left your brain at home!" said Mr. Hartlock, the math teacher. She used to smirk every time she heard his name. It reminded her of a character from her favorite book, even the vanity and stupidity was the same.
The class broke into laughter at his remark and she wished she could dig a hole in the ground and disappear. "What is it Mr. Hartlock?"
"I asked you to bring your homework to my desk," he answered in a tone someone uses to speak with a small child.
She panicked. What homework? She didn't even remember him asking for homework last class. She not only hadn't done it, but while searching her backpack, she found out her math's book wasn't in it. How could she have forgotten it?
"I don't have it, sir."
He let out a long sigh while the class giggled and some of the guys threw crumpled paper on her hair. She couldn't understand why he never punished them for that or even told the class to stop laughing. He seemed to enjoy putting on that little show, using her to show he had authority. It was easy to pick on the weak ones or maybe the ugly ones... she knew she wasn't weak, but she also didn't have much help from the class or anybody, for that matter.
As for being ugly, well, everything indicated that direction. She had had the misfortune of having a hair cut that didn't suit her, it was the kind of hair cut for people with straight hair. She had black wavy hair, so it curled in the wrong places, making it just plain ugly. She wore glasses, which gave her the geeky look and well, she didn't like anything about her face much. To complete everything, she wasn't what one could call thin. She wasn't fat either, but she had big thighs and hips. Someone could say she was curvy, but when they looked at the whole package, all they could see was a weird teenager who never got out of her awkward phase.
Hartlock was enjoying the attention, specially from the girls. Why couldn't she have a teacher like Severus Snape, her favorite character in the book. At least no one would laugh in his class.
"Then open your book on page thirty-four and go solve the problem number two on the blackboard." He wasn't even sure which exercise was that, but it sounded good to say it and the girls loved it when he was tough.
"I don't have my book, sir," she said flinching, already anticipating their reaction.
"Well, then you better ask someone to lend you a book later today, when you come to DETENTION!" He went back to his desk and stayed there conversing happily with the girls sitting at the front, while the rest of the class pretended to work on their exercise.
The little group around the cheerleading air heads was still looking at her in a weird way, and she was almost afraid to think what they were planning for today. That was one of the reasons she could never concentrate much in class, she was always worried. Of course, she wasn't the best of students, she could never excel on anything, her grades were horrible and she never liked studying those things very much. The few subjects she enjoyed, she couldn't even work well on them, because she was always distracted and afraid.
At home, her parents forced her to stay locked in her room studying to improve her grades, which made her rebel on that by not doing it, and instead, she read all books she could get her hands on. If there was a test on Harry Potter, she would have an A but the reality was that the Harry Potter world and literature wasn't the only subject at school.
Every time she tried to explain to her parents what she went through at school, they would call her silly and whiny. They would tell her to ignore it, to grow up, and all the other stuff parents like to say. This made her wonder whatever happens to their school memories after they become parents. They don't remember what it is to be a teenager and having to go through a whole day in a world where appearances and popularity is everything. Being different means being a freak, not being beautiful, means being humiliated and reminded through every second of the day how awful and inadequate you look.
Her mother obviously did not remember any of that or she wouldn't have forced her to go through the "pants humiliation" last school year. Gillian needed a new pair of jeans to go to schoo. Her mother had bought her a pair and apparently spent a lot of money in it. When Gillian put them on, they looked extremely awkward, the legs looked too large and wide, every time she moved, it seemed her legs were lost inside them. The material was stiff and it didn't move smoothly, making it look like she was wearing bells on her legs.
When she tried telling her mother she didn't like it, the woman got mad and practically threatened her to wear it. She had to go to school every single day wearing those hideous pants. At some point, she couldn't stand it anymore, if her life was hell before the pants, it was unbearable after. So she started to hide her old jeans inside her backpack. Every time she got to school, she went to the restroom and changed it. And everyday when she arrived home, she would run to her bedroom before her mother could see her.
That was working for a while, until one day her mother saw her coming down the street and noticed she wasn't wearing the outfit she left with. She got grounded and had her backpack searched everyday before leaving for school.
It sounded bizarre just to think of the situation, but it was the way her life worked. Things seemed to get worse everyday.
The sound of the bell brought her out of her thoughts and she breathed a sigh of relief. There was a game today, so the boys would play and she could escape for the library and read. When she tried to get up, her body pushed forward but something was holding her clothes back. Half the class along with the teacher had left, but her personal bullies were there waiting.
To her horror, that was what they were waiting for, the whole time. She tried frantically to pull her shirt and pants out of the chair, but it wouldn't budge. They had put crazy glue on her seat. The laughs started to crowd her ears and soon enough she wasn't listening anymore, just a muffled buzz and the dizziness...
She finally, after a lot of struggle, managed to pull herself out. The problem was that in order to get out, she got the back of her pants torn apart, leaving treads hanging and her knickers showing full view. She could see some of the boys literally rolling on the floor from laughing, the girls were looking at her in that disgusted way, she saw so many times on their faces and even though she couldn't listen anymore, she could see their mouths moving, forming the nicknames she dreaded and had to hear everyday.
She grabbed her backpack clumsily, letting her Harry Potter book fall on floor only to have one of the girls pick it up and start throwing from one to the other. Calling her "Harry Potter freak."
She retrieved the book and ran out of class, not bothering to hide her behind from anyone. The buzz in her year started to cease and she could hear them following her. "Hey freak, why don't you ask Harry Potter to fix your pants now?"
"Hey why don't you get your wand and hex us?" another one said, and there were more laughs. This time the people who were in the hall were laughing too, so she got in the bathroom and locked herself in one of the stalls. The girls got in right behind her and started throwing toilet paper inside her stall. They were getting the trash bins and turning them on top of the stall and Gillian kept trying to protect herself from the dirty paper to fall on her head. She clutched her book and closed her eyes in between the tears. In a very small voice, she started to repeat, "Help, help, make all this go away..."
At some point the trash bin hit her head and she cried out in pain opening her eyes to find everything completely dark. It was daytime and the bathroom had high large windows. How was that possible? She could make some forms in the darkness, which were probably the things they were throwing at her. She brought her hand to her forehead and felt a little sting at the touch. She was bleeding.
She looked for the trash bin that hit her and found out it was a bucket, a wooden bucket? Amongst all the questions popping her panicked mind, she suddenly realized it was silent. The laughs and yelling were gone. She tried to find her book and it wasn't anywhere.
She started to stand up again, terrified. Where the hell was she? She jumped at a scratching noise on the door and her heart started racing even faster. Then came the voice.
"Is she there? Bloody students think they can fool me!"
The door swung opened and the candle light invaded the stall. Gillian's mouth fell open looking from the man to where she was standing. It wasn't a stall, it was a closet. The reason for the scratching was a scrawny cat with yellow eyes and the voice belonged to none other than Argus Filch.
................................................................................................................................
Reviews please!