Wait, There Was A Rule?

Well, my life sucks. It's the same old cliche: new kid, breaks the status quo, finds herself in trouble because of it. Let me start from the beginning.

I walked through the large wooden doors into the school cafeteria, and sat down at an empty table. Little did I know, it was the popular girls table. As soon as I sat down, other kids started swarming around me, as if I was the most interesting person in the world. Other people, though, were whispering.

"Oh, she's sitting at Samantha's table", and "She's gonna get in trouble", and "I feel so bad for her." I was getting annoyed, and then I saw who they were talking about. Samantha, the preppy cheerleader who is better than anyone else. It was only my fourth day at that school, but I knew her better than anyone, because I knew someone just like her at my old school. She was blonde, skinny, tall, and wore too much lip gloss. She was fully covered in make-up, and it was hard to tell where her eyelashes started and ended. All I knew, though, was that she was death glaring me and the boy next to me.

"Mike, get away from her. I am your girlfriend." she stated, as if I was a piece of trash.

Mike got red in the face and said, "No, Samantha. You are not. I am done with this relationship. I have been thinking, and this girl here has been helping me in all the places you ignored me." He sat up and turned his back to a miffed Samantha, who tossed her hair and walked out with her trio of other cheer girls.

"Um, Mike. Why did you do that? Sure, we've been talking for a few days, and it's been nice and all, but that girl could kill me in my sleep. I know it." I told him, trying to keep my head down as all the other kids walked away. 16 years, and already on someone's death list. Great, I thought to myself, hoping no one here could read my mind.

I dumped my tray into the gray trash bin, and walked out of the cafeteria, my bag slung over my shoulder. As I turned the corner to go to my science class, I heard giggling. I turned my head and saw Samantha standing there, with her little group of followers.

"Hey, Dorkcicle. Come here, I want to talk to you," she said, a little too friendly.

"I think I can skip science today," I whispered under my breath, then walking in the other direction. Or at least I was, until two hands of manicured hands grabbed the tops of my arms and dragged me back. When the hands let go, I turned and found myself surrounded by the cheer group. "Girls, whatever I did, can't we talk it out?" I asked, my voice clearly showing my hope for the best.

"No, we can't. You made my boyfriend break up with me! I am disgraced. What's your name?" she asked, clearly not wanting to get to know me better.

"Emily," I answered, looking for a way out of the circle.

"Ah, what a nice name. Look, here's the deal. I am queen bee around here, and anyone who gets in my way gets the worst of it," she gritted through perfectly whitened, straight teeth. "You don't want the worst of it, trust me. So, how about you just leave my Mike alone, and quit brainwashing people, mkay?"

"Um, I never wanted anything to do with Mike, and also, I think that you're doing most of the brainwashing," I said, calm, cool, and collected. Samantha turned cold, and looked daggers into my eyes.

"Oh really? Girls, give her the closet treatment," she ordered. I had no idea what was going on, but the next thing I knew, the circle of girls formed into a group that was dragging me down the hall. I fought against them, but the girls threw me into the janitors closet faster than I could stop them.

I was locked in there for hours, and I was only out when the janitor came into the closet. She was wearing a yellow shirt, and a wrinkly old apron.

"Oh my, dearie. Did Samantha get upset at you?" she asked me, clearly sympathizing for me. I nodded, with a warm tear streaking down my face. She explained about how this had happened many times since Samantha started high school. She gave me a little bag, told me not to open it until I got home, and a bandage for my arm, because part of it started bleeding.

By the time I got out of the closet, it was time to go home. When my bus was called, I quickly jogged to the doors while looking over my shoulders. I ran into someone while I was finding a seat, and accidentally knocked whoever it was down.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" I asked, hoping the boy wasn't hurt.

He nodded and replied, "Yeah, I'm fine. And, I'm Johnny. What might your name be?" I was shocked, but ended up answering.

"Emily," I told him. He smiled and told me that it was a pretty name.

"Well, what did you do to get the Samantha Treatment?" he asked, hinting to my cuts. I just shook my head and told him that it was a story for another time. "Well, would you like to sit next to me?"

When I nodded, he ushered me into a seat in the back. As I scooted into the torn, gray seat of the bus, I saw her. Samantha, waving at me, with an evil smile across her face. She just couldn't wait to torment me more.

"Hey, what's this? I've seen some other kids get these, but I've never seen what's inside." Johnny said, plainly wanting to open the tiny white package the janitor had given me. I waved my hand, and he took it as a signal to open it.

As he tore open the package, we found that it contained many different things. It had eye contacts that would change the color of my eyes, hair dye, and lip gloss. "Why would someone give you this?" Johnny asked, confused as a baby whose mother took away his rattle.

"Well, maybe, it's to change what I look like. You know, so that she wouldn't recognize me?" I mused, trying to understand the little gift. Then, a small paper floated out from the bottom, and I caught it.

"Don't worry, when you wear these, we will know what to do," the paper read, and making me feel relieved, yet intrigued. I turned away towards the window, and couldn't wait for the next day.