This story dates to my high school days when I was a Junior. I wouldn’t overdo myself, saying that I was the “good girl”, but I did tend to keep to myself when possible. I wasn’t a popular girl, nor was I the smartest. I never had a thing for love. Everyone else fell hard for the infatuation in the air. Almost every girl in my class had some type of boyfriend or partner. I was one of the few that still prided themselves in being single. Like every teenage girl, I did enjoy my fair share of petty drama and gossip—if it didn’t evolve me.
This twisting romantic drama begins near the end of December with winter break happening the next day. We really didn’t do anything productive the day before, in fact, the teachers had agreed a week ago that we would have ourselves a little Christmas party. The morning started off as normal with me running several minutes late, totally missing homeroom. This was a routine habit for me since I've started driving myself at the age of sixteen. Normally, this would be a bad thing, going against my record with a lot of late writeups, but that wasn’t the case with me. Yes, I did get my handful of tardy slips, but I was fortunate enough to have my homeroom teacher double as my first period teacher. So, after a while, she’d caught on to the pattern of waiting until the first bell to see if I were coming to class before marking me late in the books.
The hallway was in chaos with the sounding of the first bell, ending homeroom after the standard reciting of the pledges and announcements. The secondary schooling building was in temporary trailers with a total of ten classrooms inside. There was a different set up in each room; one held the chips and dip and other various snack foods; another had the real food when our cravings weren't satisfied with junk and sugar. In the science lab down the hall was the movie room, being projected up on the large screen; a mix of classic Christmas movies and cartoons was on the playlist for the day. Kids from all grades, freshmen to seniors, hopped from classroom to classroom, chatting and taking Snapchat videos with each other. I found my group of friends and stayed with them most of the day. I’m not a party-type person. I have a real antisocial and skeptically reserved outlook on social gatherings of all kinds. Being a Libra, this was really contradicting to my natural-born outgoing personality. Plain and simple, I wouldn’t go out of my way to talk to you, but if you came to me with conversation, then I wouldn’t shew you away.
I kept staring at the clock and wanted to speed up the time that I had left in school. It was a party, but to me, it still felt like a school day. Somehow, two of the rooms had gotten involuntarily separated into “the girls” and “the boys”—a bit cliché. All the girls were gathered in the room across the hall from the movie room. It was loud and chaotic in there. Against my gut feeling, I had decided to go and check it out. It was a mess. I was confused. I was lost. I was totally out of my element, and I hauled ass right back out.
A few hours later there was some yelling from down the hall followed by a huge bang of something (or someone) crashing against the lockers. All heads popped out and stared at the ordeal that was taking place down the hallway. No one is sure about how it had started, but two senior girls were interlocked in each other’s arms with fistfuls of hair. A fight had broken out over something, and it was an ugly one. Uniform oxfords were being scuffed, blouses were ripped, hair was yanked; it wasn’t a bloody scene, but it wasn’t a neat one either. The Principal came and separated the two girls, sending them back to her office for a stern lecture. The uproar settled down and we dispersed among ourselves again.
It wasn’t long before another round of shouting came out—but this one was directed at me. She'd called out my name a few times, each shout grew more in intensity. I was confused at first as to why this crazy broad was verbally attacking me. What could I have possibly done to her? And then it hit me when she yelled out the name … Marcus Boyd. Oh, shit!
Let me take a moment to pause and backtrack to the necessary filler information that led up to this confrontation. A few weeks prior, my date for the Winter Ball had left me to go dance with this other bratty chic. To make matters worse, the next morning he came walking together with her inside the building. Boy was I furious! I was livid! I was fuming, but I didn’t have a plan for revenge brewing now. I don’t know what I did to that girl, but she had the look of bad intentions on her face. She didn’t love him; she loved that fact that it was hurting me.
I had first noticed that something was up when she kept staring at me in every class and high fiving her best friend. God, I hated those two. Normally, I'm not a confrontational person until you push me to that edge. I'm not mean; I'm petty. And, I was about to show them the full brunt of it (by “them”, I mean only her, but her friend was collateral damage. Wrong place, wrong time, right?). Her best friend had a boyfriend; a new freshman named Marcus Boyd. He was my target. If she were going to make me hurt, then I’ll make them hurt, too.
Marcus and I shared a couple of afterschool programs together. I never knew the kid before any of this, but I was going to change all that. Day after day, I turned on the charm and worked my way into his good graces—who knew that he was a lowkey hoe in the process. This was too easy. We became friends, at first, and then everything started to change the second we exchanged numbers. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t grow some feelings for him. I knew it was wrong, but the chemistry was there. He wasn’t mine, but the love felt real in the moment. I was infatuated but didn’t know it at the time. The conversations turned more personal and even took a major detour down the sexual path. We were high schoolers, so not much pre-thought was put into our actions. I really didn’t care about the consequences. In my mind I was tearing her best friend apart like how the girl tore me apart, and it felt like sweet victory.
A few messages were secretly exchanged between us—oh, so I thought. There was one explicit message that was shared by him (I don’t need to go into any details with that). That was when I decided to call it quits. I was freaked out and ended all contact with him. A couple days went by with no immediate backlash until the morning of the Christmas Party. Who knew that he was so whipped by her that he gave her the password to his phone. And he was an even bigger dumbass to have saved the conversation thread. That was how she found out. Like I said, my beef wasn’t with her; she was just caught in the crosshairs of an ugly petty war.
And so, this brings us back to present time at the confrontation.
I was stunned at first when I heard the name, but then my shock turned to rage when I thought about how she come to find out about us. All answers pointed back to Marcus Boyd. Her words got worse; backed up by her deranged boyfriend-stealing friend. I held my own against the two bloodhounds, exchanging words right back at them. They tried to get physical, but we all knew the teachers wouldn’t let it get that far, especially with it being so many of them around at the time. We were separated; me running into the bathroom and them sent waiting in the office. Our parents were called. So, yeah, it turned into a huge shit show of a party. I was sitting in the corner under the sink balling my eyes out, not in sadness, but angry.
I was founded by my mom who asked me about the situation and about Marcus Boyd. I lied. I “couldn't remember anything” and denied everything. Eventually, she dropped the subject and left me to finish sulking in peace. Once I was done and gather myself, I was escorted to the office as soon as I opened the bathroom’s door. Here’s the part that I didn’t understand. The Principal looked us over; me being silent while the other girl still whimpered like a pup over her lost toy. I had a heart of ice sitting in that office. Love can make you do crazy things. Forbidden love makes you do worse. In an ironic turn of events, I was given one-week suspension while the others walked off free. The start of Christmas break was tomorrow, so I really didn’t see this as much of a punishment. I viewed it as I was getting two weeks off instead of one. It felt like a vacation rather than a discipline.
I guess the biggest question was, did I learn my lesson? Did I take anything away from this situation? The answer was tied. Yes, I learned to be more careful and cover my own ass from people. The other half, I would say no only because I was dealing with a broken heart and I acted out from my pain. Would I do it again? Maybe not now because I'm older. But if I were asked that question six years ago, there would've been no hesitation.
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