A Changed Woman

I stepped out of the taxi and onto the pavement. My legs were shaking, but I knew that I had to do this. I had to face them all. I straightened myself up and took a deep breath. As I walked up to the door I could feel my confidence wavering, but I could hear my mum’s words still echoing in my ears.

“You have to go Jess. You must show them that you have changed. You need them to know the adult that you have turned into, despite everything that happened”

I knew that she was right. From the moment I had received the email about the school reunion I knew that it would be right to go. I also knew that it would be one of the most difficult things I had ever done. To go back and face those girls made me feel sick. I was a responsible adult, with a good job and should be able to attend with my head held high. If only it was that easy.

It was a decade since I had seen anyone from school. We were the class of 2010, hence the reunion.

I had left St Mary’s School for Girls after my GCSE’s and had gone to a Six Form College in a nearby city. It was a chance for a new start for me. A way to put what happened at school behind me and be a completely different Jess.

That is exactly what I did. No one from my old school attended the college and I decided to use my middle name, Kate, just to make sure that no one would put two and two together and work out that I was “that” Jess from St Mary’s.

My A Level results were excellent, and I managed to secure a place at university studying English and History. After achieving a First in my degree I then added a teaching qualification and was now teaching history at a large academy in Newcastle dealing with some of the most deprived children. I loved my job and had a passion for teaching teenagers. I was able to motivate them and retain their interest in a subject that most children of that age thought was boring.

The children trusted me and saw me as an ally. They knew that I would be firm but fair in any decisions that I made. I had a reputation for being able to detect signs of bullying or intimidation and tackle them head on before things got out of hand. Neither the children nor any of the staff knew that I was able to do this because of my own personal experience at St Mary’s School.

St Mary’s was notorious for being strict. An all-girls school in a small northern town, which prided itself on turning out high academic achievers. The problem was that its whole focus was on academia. The pastoral care was appalling, and bullying was rife. Not that it ever got reported. The teachers were pushed to achieve exam results and ensure that girls got places at university. When anyone tried to report bullying it was put down to minor squabbles or teenage girls just being bitchy.

If anyone had looked below the surface, or even down a quiet corridor in between classes they would have seen girls being subject to vicious name calling on a day to day basis. Anything that made a girl slightly different would make them a target for the bullies. Whether it was ginger hair, braces, being overweight or wearing glasses, girls would be picked out and tormented until their confidence was worn away.

If girls were not intimidated enough by this, they would be physically assaulted. It would start with being jostled in a hallway, being tripped on a netball court or being kicked under the table. Never enough to cause physical injuries, but day after day, week after week it would cause misery to the victims and a great deal of hilarity to the aggressors.

But that was all behind me now. It was time to put on a brave face and confront the demons of the past. I stepped into the wine bar and headed towards the function room upstairs. Above the music, I could hear laughter and chatter. The party was definitely in full swing.

Around the room I could see groups of young women. Even now they appeared to be sticking to their stereo types.

There were the sporty girls, who had represented the school at various events and whose team photos had always been on the walls in the assembly hall. They were laughing and chatting, confident but not cocky.

There were the loud raucous girls who were drinking brightly coloured cocktails through fancy straws. These were the girls who spent many a morning outside the head teacher’s office for some misdemeanour or another.

There were the quiet girls in the corner, sitting around a table with glasses of wine, huddled together, trying not to draw too much attention to themselves, still worried that they would become a target for humiliation.

Finally, there were the girls that I wanted to avoid at all costs. The tormentors and intimidators. The rulers of the corridors, standing together at the end of the bar. Even now they were claiming their space and marking their territory.

I edged my way to the bar, trying not to draw attention to myself, wondering whether I could get out now before anyone really noticed. My heart was thumping in my chest and as I ordered my vodka and coke my voice was cracking with nerves.

I heard a voice from the group at the other end of the bar shout “Jess! Don’t pretend you haven’t seen us. Looking very prim and proper madam. Where have you been all these years?”

I slowed my breathing and turned away from the bar as if I hadn’t heard. I started to make my way towards the group of quiet girls in the corner. As I approached them, I could see that they were trying not to catch my eye, making themselves look as invisible as possible.

“Can I sit here?” I asked, forcing a smile on my face

“What here, with us?” asked the red-haired girl in the corner.

I recognised her as Martha, although she had changed remarkably since her school days. She had been a ginger haired, tubby girl with glasses.

My heart sank. I felt the shame rise to my face, making my cheeks flush red. My stomach was doing somersaults. I knew that I had to do this. I took a large gulp of my drink, a little ditch courage.

“I just want to say that I am so sorry. I know that I was such a bitch back then. I can’t excuse my behaviour, but I want you to know that I have never behaved like that again and I am so ashamed of what I did. That’s the only reason that I have come here tonight, so that I can apologise to you all”

Martha glared at me with a look of disgust. “I don’t think so” She spat “Go join your hideous friends at the bar. I don't believe you've changed. Once a bully, always a bully”