© Copyright 2006 by Karen O'Leary

“I hate school,” fourteen-year-old Melanie Ostland yelled. She bolted for her room, tears streaming down her face.

Her mother sighed as she slid a casserole into the oven. High school had been a difficult transition for Mel without her best friend. The timing of Jennifer Morton’s move out of town couldn’t have been worse.

Ten-year-old Brent cruised into the kitchen. “I’d like to pop that fat old Sasha a good one.”

“We don’t talk like that in this house,” Debra Ostland admonished her son.

“But she made Mel cry,” his eight-year-old sister, Carrie, defended.

“How do you think Jesus would want you to handle this?”

The youngsters hung their heads as they backed out of the kitchen.

“Someone has to stick up for Mel,” Brent shared with his sister as they meandered down the hall. < br>
Sasha Kingston had gained a lot of weight over the last year. She probably has some self-esteem issues reasoned Debra, the teacher. The mother inside her snarled, longing to protect her child from pain and emotional scars. She attacked the salad with vengeance.

*******

At five feet and ninety-five pounds, Melanie was easy prey for a bully. “It’s not fair.”

She dried her eyes and popped a CD into her player. Swaying to the music, she pulled her English book from her backpack.

Her mother peeked in. “Are you OK?”

*******

At lunch, Melanie sat beside the only open chair at a table of freshman girls. Sasha Kingston walked up, tray in hand. “I don’t want to sit by her.”

Heads popped up and eyes riveted. “Stop acting like a baby,” berated Lindsay Brockmeier. She picked up her tray and marched over to the empty seat. “Grow up.”

Sasha tossed her head in defiance and claimed her throne.

Mel picked at her food. Conversation flowed around her, the loner in a crowd.

*******

“I wish I could die.” Melanie hugged her upper body. “The whole school must think I’m a nerd. I hate it.”

“You’ve had a lot of good things happen too, state swim meet, medalling at the flute solo contest…”

“But Mom, I don’t have a best friend to share stuff with any more.” Tears trickled down the teenager’s cheeks.

“Why don’t you call Jennifer after supper?”

“Can I?” Melanie perked up and dried her eyes.

“Mel,” Brent yelled. “Jen is on the phone.”

“Tell her I’ll be right there. I’m taking it the basement.” The teen sprinted down the hall.

Sounds of laughter wafted up the stairs. Debra Ostland smiled, marveling at the ability of the young to bounce back from their troubles.

Melanie slid into her chair at the table half way through the meal. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“I think we can excuse you this time.” Her father, Kevin Ostland smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. “How’s Jennifer?”

“She thinks school’s the pits too.”

“Your mom filled me in on the latest with Sasha. This harassment has got to stop. Do you want me to call the school?”

“Dad, don’t!” Melanie shrilled. She took a deep breath. “I can handle it. I’m going to talk to her tomorrow.”

*******

Sasha slammed her locker shut as Melanie approached the next morning. She nearly turned around but kept her feet moving forward.

“Can we talk?”

Her abuser shrugged.

“We were friends during swim season. I don’t understand why you’ve been calling me names and saying other mean stuff. It hurts my feelings.”

The bully shifted on her feet, staring at the floor. “Sorry,” she whispered then scurried down the hall.

Melanie’s stomach churned as she entered seventh period English. It was the only class she shared with Sasha. She managed to avoid her tormentor at lunch.

The bell rang. Mrs. Wilkerson stepped from behind her desk. “Take out your Shakespeare critique and your sonnet assignment. I want you to discuss both in small groups. Give each other suggestions for improving your poems. Melanie, Jake, Dan and Sasha take the back left corner.”

Melanie’s heart pounded in her chest as she stood on shaky limbs. Jake was the captain of the basketball team. Just one of Sasha nasty remarks could ruin her. “Please God,” she silently pled.

“Who’s first?” The basketball star slumped in the chair, a smirk on his face.

“Mel’s a good writer,” Dan volunteered.

“OK. You’re on,” Jake challenged, then yawned.

With a shaky voice, Melanie began, “The Hero. On shoulders lean he…”

“Hey babe, you talkin’ about me,” Jake interrupted, puffing out his chest.

“In your dreams,” Sasha shot back. “Stop clowning around, and you might learn something.”

“Yeah Jake.” Dan stared at the cocky teen. “You want to get us ousted off the team.”

Melanie read her poem, confidence building as she spoke. “That was really good,” Sasha complimented when she finished.

“I think so too,” Dan said.

“Want to write one for me.” Jake leaned forward with a syrupy grin on his face. Practice takes up so much time. I don’t get much homework done.”

“You’re on your own.” Melanie smiled. “I’m out of ideas.”

The Ostlands jostled through the doorway after school. Brent headed for the fridge. “Do we have anything to eat? I’m starved.”

Their mother looked up from the folders she was compiling at the kitchen table. “I made turkey sandwiches for each of you. Your dad called. A book dealer showed up unexpectedly. He won’t be home until 6:30.”

Melanie dropped her backpack then leaned over her mom’s shoulder. “Looks like a lot of work to me.”

“I’m getting ready for parent-teacher conferences next week.” She took a sip of coffee. “How did things go with Sasha?”

“I talked to her. It went all right today, but I’m not holding my breath.” Mel grabbed her sandwich. “I’ll be in the den working on my health paper.”

Absorbed with editing her first draft, Melanie tuned out all else. “How did school go?” She jumped.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Kevin Ostland apologized, a hint of a smile on his face.

“You look real sorry,” she teased.

“You doubt your kind, sweet dad.” He feigned a pout.

Melanie giggled. “You’ve got to do better than that. Try some acting lessons.”

“Ouch. You really know how to hurt a guy.”

“Are you two at it again?” Debra Ostland walked in chuckling.

“Who us?” Her husband tipped his head to the side like a naughty boy caught in the act.

“That won’t work on me.”

“Mom, you’ve got to coach him. He’s losing his touch.”

Kevin tossed up his hands. “Two against one. I surrender. That’s the thanks I get for caring about my daughter’s day.”

“It went OK dad,” Melanie said with a twinge of guilt. “You know I appreciate your concern.”

He rested his hand on his daughter’s shoulder, grinning. “Got you! And you said I’m losing it.” Raising his fists, he pranced toward the door. “Yes!”

Mother and daughter burst out laughing. It took several minutes for them to regain composure.”

Debra shook her head. “He keeps things interesting.”

“Mom, I’ll shut down the computer and be in for supper.” Mel logged off then sent up a prayer of thanks for her family’s support.

*******

Seventh period rolled around way too fast for Melanie. Mrs. Wilkerson stood by the door directing her students to return to yesterday’s small groups to finish their discussions. “Your final sonnets are due tomorrow along with the group’s consensus on “All’s Well that Ends Well”.

“Hey Mel, since your poem is ready to hand in, why don’t you help me with mine?” Jake asked. “You don’t want the coach to kick me off the team do you? He’s gotten real tough about getting assignments done, grades, and stuff.”

“How far did you get?”

“I’ve got a title.”

Melanie rolled her eyes. “Sorry, I’ve got enough of my own work to do?”

“I can help you in eighth period study hall.” Sasha volunteered, gushing with flirtatious charm. “Some of us are willing to help others.” She leered at Mel.

Melanie nearly snapped back that she was being used but controlled her tongue.

“We better get started,” Dan interjected, relieving some of the tension. He read his sonnet.

Sasha snuck in a couple of jabs about snobs, not directly addressed at Melanie, but the implications were clear.

*******

“You’re in my way,” Mel snapped at her sister. Carrie barely had time to pull her backpack from the path as the older girl stormed by.

“What was that about?” their mother asked.

Carrie shrugged.

Exhausted, Melanie plopped on the bed. She closed her eyes, trying to ease her throbbing headache. A light knock summoned her. “Come in.”

Debra Ostland walked in and sat beside her daughter. “What’s going on?’

“More of the same. Mom, I tried to be nice, avoid her, talk to her… Nothing works.”

“It’s been tough, but you can’t take it out on your family. You were pretty rough on Carrie.”

“I know.” Mel hung her head. “I’ll make it up to her.”

“You can start by apologizing. As for Sasha, you’ve got to stop letting her control you. Ignore some of the petty stuff, and she won’t get so much satisfaction out of tormenting you.”

*******

Sasha yelled down the hall, “Hey Ostland, why are you such a shrimp?”

“It’s the way God made me.”

The bully’s jaw dropped. Melanie moved on.




HEY! and don't forget to e-mail Karen O'Leary if you have a comment!


gksm@cableone.net

Author's Note: Karen O'Leary is a Christian wife, mother, nurse, and freelance writer. She has published articles, short stories, and poetry in "Parables", "The Journal of Christian Nursing", "Smile", "Storyteller", "Art With Words" as well as others. She hopes her words will have a positive influence on others.





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