To tell you my story I have to tell how emotionally well I was in middle school. You could’ve said I was foolish but now that I look back I just think I was very innocent. Listening to the same music and hearing the same dirty jokes and poisonous rumors as the rest of my class I thought I wasn’t really innocent but sometimes you never know what you have until you lose it.
I was in the library when I met a guy online and we talked about books and other things. I was interested in a lot of things and we had a really nice chat. But it was the library and the books eventually led me into another dimension and I forgot about him. Around two weeks later I meet him online, well…he tracks me down. He flatters me by telling me I’m the sweetest thing he ever met. He fed me line after line. He told me he would break up with his online girlfriend for me. Apparently they were about to get married (online) you can do that and he suddenly told her it was over. Oh! But of course I agreed because what other guy wanted anything to do with me? We got together and it was bliss and endless chats about what I was interested in. Then he surprised me. He asked me if I wanted to cyber and I balked. NO WAY. I told him. He pressed the issue though and started to type disgusting things. They filled the screen. They filled my LIFE. I thought this was my Prince who was only requesting a small privelage so I eventually gave in and we did it once. It was only two months later that I realized how precious my single bliss was but I decided to tough it out for him. Then someone told me he cheated on me. CHEATED?! How could he? I gave him my precious gift of innocence and I had been with him a way no one else had. Cruel! So cruel! I shouted at him (by this time we traded adresses and phone numbers) I sobbed softly and begged him not to go. I loved him, it was true. My love was real for me and I thought he felt what I felt. A light grew in my face and I floated on a cloud while at the same time the truth that he was scoundrel drifted in the back of my brain. At the end of the first year and more cybering and cheating on his part I was begging him to set me free. He had too much of my heart for me to force my will over his. I wanted to leave before he could get more ugly. Wait! Don’t go from this sad story so far, this is only the prologue. It’s a nice ending really.
Anyway, he abused me for 3 years because I let him before he broke my heart and threw me out. He broke up with me then told me he had fantasies of killing me then raping my corpse. The next week he asked me to go out with him again to be one with him. He was a monster and I told him so. Then he threatened to kill himself. I loved him still, reader. My love still saw that nice boy who would talk to me and respect me. Sobbing, I forwarded our chats to his Mom. The ones about suicide I made a point of re-sending. The day after taht he called me and told me I was heartless and told me to go to hell and that they might put him in a mental institution thanks to me. I told him I loved the boy who I met and he wasn’t it and reminded him who broke up with whom. He got angry and silent. The next week his friend tells me he heard my ex commit suicide. I scream and cry and remember the nice boy all over again because I’m very loyal so I call his house and ask his Mom how he died and his Mom says he didn’t die. She gets angry the more I tell her my story but not at me, at him.
Dear reader I felt like a hollow shell. A piece of floating garbage. Since he won’t ever come back into my story I’ll tell you what happened to that man. That boy in a man’s body. I saw that he had a web page up on facebook and youtube and what was scary was he had bought a webcam. He took pictures of his face but I know that that was not all he took pictures of, I know that he hasn’t stopped cybering since we broke up. I know that one day the cops will arrest him for corrupting a minor like he corrupted me. It was 10th grade that I was set free like a bird. So happy! and yet so bitter. When my guy friends talked to me I hated them if they looked like HIM that day. I hated them for using the word ‘literally’ like he did. I hated them when they looked too long at me. I hated them when they ignored me. I HATED them period. I told all my friends about the evils of men and stopped going on the computer. Whenever I did and whenever I accidentally went on a chat I got panic attacks because it reminded me of my time being in a cage. I hate hate hate cages. In History class I had surges of memory and my mind couldn’t concentrate on debates. My eyes, oh it was so sad, my eyes would empty of my innate spunkiness and they would resemble a cows. They were dumb and blank. I remember seeing them in a mirror. Then I began to want to kick people or randomly strike out. My anger was like a tumor. You could see the symptoms and it would have ruptured if I didn’t talk about it and take pills. I took passion flower. Little brown pills that calmed me down and help me process my emotions. My family moved into a little quiet home backed by woods and the sounds of birds. I would lie on my bed and listen to the free birds. I whispered to God one time while looking out the window, “I would like a little wind.” And a gust came and blew my hair back. I knew I could heal once I was in this place. I could grow. Oh. I could last in the silence. I meditated in my own way by reading and thinking, reading and thinking, reading and thinking. I realized my anger and I still had sexual thoughts and angry thoughts and bitter thoughts left over but I never once burdened anybody more than my counselor. Her, I only told her an outline of my stresses without letting her plumb the depths because she was innocent it showed in her eyes. And I learned that if you love someone you should never burden them. With my personality sucked out I sat on my quiet bus and savored the peace. The little kids were like bright birds flocking around me and telling me they liked me because I was kind. I never really wanted to hurt those kids I wanted to hurt that man but my hands couldn’t reach him so I projected my anger at people and objects. There were two other highschoolers on the bus. One asian kid a grade ahead and a tsunder indian wrapped in her native hujab and a grade lower. We would sit in a row with one seat to ourselves because it was so spacious and peaceful and just talk. Sam the asian got kids to believe his name was Franklin Benjamin the first couple weeks of school. He also forgot my name as well. It would annoy me so I would reply with bogus answers every time he asked. So annoying, always chattering nonsense. Ziba the indian was cool-headed and fun to talk to. I can only describe it as the type of fun I got when I read a good book. On and off the bus I went, tasting my freedom. Slowly I recovered. At school I was the same with my friends. I never let them in too deep and I show them a kind face because I love them. One day Sam picked up something on the bus and I was reading. He turned in his seat which was in front of mine and held up a dirty candy. “I’ll pay you three quarters to eat it.” Were we in kindergarten? No. So I nod my head and say “Gimme the money.” He hands it over and I stuff it in my pocket. Then I start to read my book. “You said you’d eat it!” He ejaculates. I smirk. “No, I just shook my head and demanded money.” His face contracted into an open faced pout. I could only stare. It was so honest and cute. Then I realized how ridiculous I sounded so I gave his money back and read my book. He was so annoying.My thoughts returned but I never stopped fighting. All throughout 10th grade I never stopped fighting. I was so thankful for a lot of thinks like my parents living together again and my being single. I loved it. God helped too. I read a lot of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes because it told me straight what I needed to do to improve.
“Are you going to the prom?” I shook my head no. “Well I’m going with Lyla Steward.” “That’s nice.” I reply smiling. Sam makes a pained face. Lyla is like a Neurotic A-Type and she’s covered in 300 pounds of extra fat. “There’s not a lot of studs in 11th grade. How about you. Hey. Dano. What about Tristan?” Tristan in my grade is the creepy stalker type. Like HIM I suspected. “If you like the weird and boring.” I reply. “Wow. Ice Queen. Gabs’s an Ice Queen.” He called me Gabs. A contraction of my full name. I blush because I feel like that’s a compliment. I saw respect in his eyes. Oh, I craved respect…Nevermind what does he know. I read again. I make a point to ignore him a lot but we end up chatting. Silently. He starts reading life, the universe, and everything and since I have to read it for a book list I read it. He glances at me and something has begun. I don’t know what. He reads Douglas Adams (the author) then I read him and then he does and then I do. Finally we chat about him and the books and we sit close. I realize that people could misconstrue us for liking each other and since if we were Josh wouldn’t know he was getting a hollow horrid girl so I keep away. But the kids on the bus tease us especially the middle schoolers who secretly like Sam. How could they like that vain show pony? He had perfect hair and was obsessed over his teeth. Who would like that thing? Then Sam starts making jokes. “Yes! Gabs fell in love with me and I with her. Oh tell them honey, tell them about how we met.” I leap in. “Well He was Tall.” I glance at him nodding. “His hair was Dark. And..” I lean in. “He was ASIAN! OH! It was like a horror movie! but as you can see I got over his deformities.” I had nothing against asians except him because he was ridiculous and he was shocked and pouting and I couldn’t help it. I giggled lightly. Smiling like I hadn’t. Then I put my hands over my mouth and went back to reading but I’m sure my eyes had come back again and didn’t look dumb for that second. Another time I was telling him about how I hated a certain boy for ruining my one favorite book. “He scribbled all over every page for no reason. I cried. I hate him. And if you ever tell I’ll never speak to you again.” At the bus stop where we all (the whole school) at the end of the day I heard an “ahem” behind me. I turn and Sam is standing with the hated boy. “He want’s to tell you something.” Sam gestures to the hated boy. “I’m…soooory”. He sneers. Then something unexpectedly happens. Sam who happens to be a pacifist punches him in the stomach. “You have to mean it!” The mean guy sobers up “I’m sorry.” He says honestly. “Say for what.” Sam growls. “For ruining your book.” My walls come down or at least some. “Oh!” My eyes shine. “I forgive you.” I manage a smile. Sam grins and I still smile even though it’s Sam, or maybe because it’s Sam.We get onto the bus and I feel a lightness. I sit. Sam sits. “Thank You.” My voice is soft so he brings his ear closer. “Thank You.” He looks at me. I try to frown because I’m embarrassed. “Not that, it was um special.” I sit and we don’t talk.
Another time we’re on the bus and it’s Friday and we’re homebound. “Gabs.” Sam asks. “Should I cut my hair?” I look at him and I feel a devil on my shoulder. I pretend to muse seriously over the question then I nod gravely. “Yeah I think you should cut it all off.” I had a reputation of being honest and also his hair was slightly annoying. Not cute like he must think, I thought. I went home for the weekend and I got on the bus noticing a new kid out of the corner of my eye. Cute, I think. It’s not until we walk into school and I see Sam’s red shoes on the new kid. I look up. It IS SAM. And he, he’s. HIS hair! It’s cut with a little bit longer for bangs. His face is framed and his teeth flash against his hair. I realize then that Sam is handsome. I feel jolted and everyone at school is raving about the cut. The next week I hide from him I’m afraid to show my ugly face to him. Suddenly I want to be pretty but I don’t know how. I put my hair back one day and I go to school. On the bus Sam tries to talk to me but I duck my face and hurry in. My friends give me compliments on face that day though so I look in the mirror and I look changed. My face is soft and kind and my eyes are like brown shiny marbles. My dark hair frames my face and my clothes look comfortable. I talk a lot at the end of the day to Sam. Smiling at his attention I feel like he cant see my ugliness. Afterall I only did this not to burden him. Right? I believe that.
Then my mom and I see a great new house it’s beautiful and I immediately love it. There’s rooms for the three of us but I’ll have to…change buses. It doesn’t bother me but as the time winds down I open more like a flower. I have no idea why I’m so loved even though I’m so mean. I’m so taciturn but I feel my family and friends love and new friendships. One day I get off the bus and mom tells me “We move today!” I forgot. I turn around and wave at Sam desperate. Why? I feel so panicked. He doesn’t notice and the bus leaves. I know we have school together but I don’t feel so hot. We move and I go on a different bus. I don’t tell them until a week later Sam walks up to me in the hall. He’s about to ask me about it I know it! Sure it’s a little late in the game to notice but he did notice. He ponts and laughs, “Ha. Ha The bus missed your stop.” My face deadpans, IMMEDIATELY. I look at him then I push past. It was all in my head. It’s a pill but I swallow it. Four school days later he comes up to me. “So you’re not on the bus anymore.” I stare at him wondering whether I should help him out. I stare until he’s uncomfortable. “Yes,” I reply brusquely, “I moved.” He ducks his head and walks back to where he was standing. I am ANGRY! That’s it. NOT sad. I knew I was a hollow girl like the poem. I knew I never was a good conversationalist. I knew I wasn’t pretty. There are two weeks of 10th grade left and I utterly avoid him for a week. Yet whenever he glimpses me he gives me soft smiles. Maybe even shy. Don’t Do That. I want to tell him. It’s confusing me. I wonder where my bitterness went. Then it hits me it jerks me to a wall. Am I being, a jerk? I concede that Yes, I am. On Monday I ready myself. I look nice and presentable and I walk up to Sam. “I’m Sorry. I was angry at you so I ignored you.” Sam blinks, he is in his class room other people can hear us.”Why?” Sam asks. My hands shake but I clench them. “I was angry.” I grate out. “Yes but what for?” “You didn’t notice when I moved. Ziba noticed and the kids said hi to me. You didn’t though.” He looks a little afraid. Oh, my stomach is quaking. “I’m Sorry,” he says and then “Could it be, that you like me?” I bite my tongue because this is what I wanted all along. but I am still a hollow girl. I remember a girl from my chorus class who told me she liked him. She was very pretty and very good. It showed in her blue eyes. I remember how abused I was and how I learned to always treasure and never burden someone with dead weight. I was dead weight. Sam was a good guy and good guys require good girls. It’s like a match. “No, I never liked you that way.” I smile like he’s so silly. “But now that I’m not angry at you anymore I’ll tell you who likes you. She’s perfect.” “Who?” He believes I can’t lie. “Lindsey Cronelle.” His eyes shine like perfect black pearls. And I nod resolute in this. I walk away because it will sort itself out. 5 days later school ends and I watch Sam leave hand in hand with Lindsey. Since school is over I can say it now. I crouch and put my face in my hands. My eyes are streaming. My palms are wet. “I love you Sam!”
He left the next year and visits our school sometimes. It’s been a year now and I feel strong. So strong now that I can love the right way again. I’m going to move on but I will always treasure my 10th grade year. I feel like I want people to know what love really is. So now that he’ll never read this and I’ve changed every name but his and my nickname I feel like I can be free.

(Screen) Name: Gabrielle

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