The counselor’s office sat upstairs by T Hall. I stood outside of it and drew in a long breath. In my hand, I held a form to switch Biology classes. Opening the door, I gave the slip to the first person I saw, a woman with glasses sitting behind a desk. She said thanks and examined my face. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just being made fun of in Biology and all,” I said. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. 

Even though I really shouldn’t have, I sat down, tears streaming down my face. She cupped her hands, keeping her eyes steady on me.

“I thought this guy really liked me, but then he started making fun of me in class,” I said. 

“Is that why you’re switching?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he sounds very insecure, and like maybe you dodged a bullet,” she said. 

“He was really nice to me at first.”

“Yeah…” She nodded, knowing better than I. “Well, we’ll process your form. You’ll get an e-mail as soon as possible.’

“Thanks.” 

“Are you going to Biology right now?” She asked. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ll make a complaint to your teacher. Just ignore the boy for now.”

Nodding, I stood and left. I didn’t really want her to make the complaint, though. Teachers never really helped, even if you really wanted them to. Every time a teacher got involved, it made everything worse. If I wanted to survive, I’d have to make it out on my own.

Bee-lining it for Biology, I waited outside the front door eagerly holding my books. My teacher, Mrs. Jefferson walked towards me holding her keys ready to let me in. Her old high heels tapped on the white, sprinkled floor. 

“Hi, Amber,” she said in a sweet tone. “Are we excited to learn today?” 

“Yes, Mrs. Jefferson,” I said wondering if she got the call already. She opened the door and I placed my things on the desk closest to her. I knew Jacob and his friends wouldn’t ever dare to be that close to the front, so I was safe. Maybe Andrew would leave me alone. In the corner of my homework, I started doodling. If I preoccupied my mind, it wouldn’t seem weird for me to avoid eye contact when they came in.

One by one, students started filing in. Someone sat next to me, and I recognized the cologne and the way his feet shuffled. 

“So, you’re not going to sit next to me anymore?” he asked. 

I glanced at him. Andrew seemed really mad, and I didn’t know why. Yesterday, it definitely felt like he, Jacob, and Daniel were making fun of me. The text that he sent read as snarky and sarcastic.  

Staring at my homework, I didn’t know what to say.

“Leave Amber alone. She’s doing her homework,” Mrs. Jefferson said.

“I really liked you. I thought we had a thing going” Andrew said.

“Could you just stop?” I said in a whisper. “I got the joke, okay?”

“I think you’re really nice.”

“You said–” I started, but remembered a teacher sat next to me. I spoke in a very quiet whisper. “I told you I didn’t want to hook up with you”

“I was kidding,” Andrew said.

“No, you weren’t.”

“Why would I have sex with you anyway? We just met,” he said.

This made no sense to me. Dad told me that men want sex all the time. They never don’t want sex. Movies and TV shows confirmed that, too. Daniel walked in with Sam, his girlfriend, and sat behind Andrew. Daniel hit Andrew on the elbow. 

“So how was the sex last night?’ Daniel asked, and winked. 

They burst into laughter. I frowned.

“No, because she ditched us at the arcade, remember?” Andrew said.

“Alright, class?” Mrs. Jefferson stood in front of the class, her wrinkled hands resting on her stomach as she played with her fake gold bracelet. “We’re going to have assigned seating today, so don’t get too used to where you are.”

She held a sheet of paper dainty in her hands and tapped the first desk near the door. 

“Ethan Apricot” 

Ethan Apricot wore dyed, long, black hair shaved on the side and thick emo eyeliner. With pierced ears and lips, he was a bit extreme, even for me. The guy didn't do anything particularly heinous, but teachers always had an eye on him just in case. He made no eye contact with anybody and sat with a frail frame. The moment he sat down, his pen started drawing monsters on the side of his homework.

He kind of looked like he’d hang out with Jacob’s crowd since they both look like they do a high level of drugs, but I had never seen them together. Most students left Ethan alone aside from other goths, emos, and indie-loving hipsters. 

“Amber Underwood.”

God. I don’t mind sitting behind Ethan. I just don’t want to be murdered. 

“Olivia Heartward.”

A nonbinary person sat behind me wearing a plaid button-up shirt and jeans. I don’t know a lot about Olivia despite their gender. Nice guy. I’ve never had a long conversation with them, and they’ve always successfully flown under the radar. 

The rest of the room became filled with about twenty other students. Andrew’s group diversed themselves across the room, and Jacob literally sat on the other side of the class. Matthew Reed sat beside Ethan, a Dungeons and Dragons-loving geek who was overweight like me, and Meiko Suzuki, a petite girl with long gorgeous hair, sat behind him. We must have been organized by how introverted we were because my corner was quiet. 

“Why do we have assigned seating?” Ethan asked, annoyed.

“Everyone take out your textbook and turn to page thirteen,” Mrs. Jefferson said, ignoring him.

Ethan shook his head and continued drawing. I noticed he had a My Chemical Romance bracelet that went well with his black nails. 

“I like your bracelet,” I said to him, hoping to be on his good side.

“Are you okay?” He asked me after a brief study of my face.

I frowned. Jesus Christ. I was just complimenting him. He didn’t have to question my sanity.

“Yeah, why?” I asked.

“You seem upset,” he said.

Did I? I didn’t think it was that obvious. I mean, I was safe now that Andrew and Jacob were nowhere near me. 

“Sorry,” I said.

He gave me a peculiar expression. Me saying sorry was weird, I guess.

I opened up my binder to my notes at the back. Not to brag, but I loved my binder. On the internet, there were several great art sites, and I found the best anime pictures to fill them with. Now, whenever I need inspiration, I just flipped through. On the front, displayed a photo of bloody chess. I didn’t know why no one questioned my mental health further.

The rest of the class turned out okay. We each took turns reading from the book and talking about the construction of the cell. After class ended, I tried to put up my stuff as soon as possible, but before I could leap from my chair, Ethan stopped me.

“Is that Trigun?” He asked, pointing to my binder. 

“Oh,” I stop to be polite. “Yeah, the animation is amazing”

“Did you draw this?” he asked looking at the drawings.

“No, it’s fanart I found online,” I said. “Did you draw that?”

Ethan raised his notepad. Different bands were sketched on the outside along with skulls and tentacles with a ballpoint pen. The front partly hung ripped.

“Oh, yeah. That’s a little gremlin right there,” he said.

“I draw, too,” Andrew said as he slid into the seat next to me. He pulled a legit sketchbook out of his backpack and handed it to me.  I opened the black thick cover and peeked inside, preparing for it to be really bad.

I don’t mean to be rude, but a lot of people show me their sketchbooks, and most of them are crudely drawn anime. Nothing wrong with that. They just pretended like they were Picasso. To my surprise, it was very well drawn anime women. Sexy anime women, but women. Well, nothing too naughty, I have to admit. I’ve seen much worse. Most of the drawings were of the character’s faces. 

To be fair, back when I was naive about my sexuality, I drew women with huge boobs. Just ginormous. They were the size of your head. 

“Wow!” I said as I handed it to Ethan. “My art is really bad in comparison.” 

Andrew made a gesture with his hand to receive proof. I hated showing my artwork to people. Through the years I did art, and I received several awards, but convinced myself “I just wasn’t good enough”. I took out my phone and went to my StrangeArt website. Clicking on my gallery, I showed it to him. 

“Dang! This is really good!” Andrew said. He held back the phone, made a pose, and took a picture. After poking around, he gave it back to me. I took it and saw that the background had changed to his face. “I like it.”

I’m used to people doing this kind of thing, and I never really got it. If I knew the person in particular, then yeah sure I’ll keep it. Otherwise, I’d rather have an aesthetically pleasing background that matched my phone icons. I changed it back to what it was.

Someone ripped my phone out of my hand and dumped it in the trash by the door. He threw it so hard, I wondered if he broke it. 

“Nice phone,” Jacob said and jumped to hit the top of the door. His girlfriends chuckled at me and they dashed down the hall. 

I pick it up and wipe off the debris. Luckily, the screen didn’t crack. What the hell is Jacob’s problem? He seemed obsessed with me in particular. 

“Is your phone okay?” Andrew asked. 

“He always does that. I don’t know why he hates me so much.”

“I don’t think he hates you. I think he likes you,” he said. Giving Andrew an ugly look, I hated it when people said that. Not only was it not true, but men shouldn’t be mean to girls to get their attention. It was a dated way of thinking that needed to go. “It’s okay! Let’s go to class.”

My favorite class, art, came up after. I took art every year. It’s not the best as far as learning goes. Most of the time, my eccentric teacher played video games in her office and gave us arbitrary assignments. I spent most of my time doing exactly what I did in other classes – sitting alone minding my own business. No one took art unless they had to, so it was a safe place where I could just listen to music.

Jacob sat in class, too, but by some miracle left me alone. Like me, he secluded himself by painting whatever nonsense he liked to paint. I’m not sure what it was about art that calmed me, but here bullying ceased. I wondered if it was because he had no friends in this class. Actually, he didn’t have a lot of friends in general. I don’t think people liked Jacob, now that I thought about it.

Mrs. Nicole gave the assignment to draw a self-portrait with secondary colors. Each one of us got a mirror, and I tried to replicate my hideous reflection. I hated self-portraits. I just think they’re very academic and not exciting. I drew most of my face when class ended. Mrs.Nicole walked out of her office, draping her colorful shawl over her body.

“I want the portraits done by the end of the weekend–don’t worry. They don’t need to be good. Just finished,” she said. “Tonight, I thought we’d do something fun for a change. I am going to break you into groups of two. Draw each other, one with your left hand, one with your right. We’ll show them to the class Thursday.”

The entire class groaned, including me. This woman has never given us homework. I have no idea why she started now. Everyone had friends, and groups were being made one by one. Looking around, I tried to find someone kind of like me. Someone who isolated themselves from others. But, soon groups were chosen and I was left there. 

“Who doesn’t have a group?” Mrs. Nicole asked.

I raised my hand suspecting I was the only one. 

“Okay, Amber and…” she trailed across the room. “Jacob. Jacob and Amber, pair up. I am going to give you five minutes to discuss plans.”

I got up and walked over to Mrs. Nicole’s desk. Immediately, I wanted to correct this mistake, and be put in another one. I would explain how Jacob harassed me, and I am sure I can be put in a group of three. However, Mrs. Nicole closed her office door. 

“Hey…” Jacob said as he approached me. His dull eyes watched me as I stood there.

“Hey..” I said.

“Don’t be too excited.”

“Okay, I am going to talk to Mrs. Nicole if you want to be in a different group.”

“Cool. Sounds perfect,” he said, offended. 

Mrs. Nicole came out. 

“Mrs. Nicole, can Jacob and I be in different groups? My dad won’t let it,” I said.

Mrs.Nicole gave me a confused expression. “Why? It’s 2007. Boys and girls can hang out with each other, right?” I became silent. I don’t know why that had to deal with anything. “Come on, get along. You’re just kids. Get over it.”

Jacob gave me a facetious smile, lifting his head a bit and looking down at me. 

“I’m sorry that didn’t work.”

Oof. A nasty e-mail destined itself to be written that afternoon. I just had to avoid Jacob until I got out of the assignment. 

“Do you want to meet tomorrow?” I asked.

“No, tonight. I want to get this over with,” Jacob said.

“Well, you can’t come to my house, so…”

“Cool. Come to mine.” 

“No, I can’t do that. My dad won’t let me.”

He squinted. “How old are you?” My mind goes blank. “What’s your address?” Taking out his phone, he typed in my address and phone number. How surreal. I didn’t think there’d be a world where we would exchange digits. “Meet me at the C parking lot after school.”

“Why?” I asked. Was I going to get raped and mugged?

“So, we can drive to your place?” He looked at me like I was stupid. “Hello, I have a car.” He put his phone in his pocket. “See ya later.”

Oh my god. I’d have to call my Dad and explain that Jacob was coming over, and avoid my messy room as much as possible. My house, nowhere near a boy-ready state, would make the bullying worse. 

“Alyxi, you have to help me,” I said during lunch. Alyxi had half a burger in her mouth. “You have to come to my house and clean it before he comes.”

She laughed. “Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“How? You’ll get there before me?” she said.”You should clean more.” I sighed. “And Jacob probably doesn’t give a shit.”

“He hates me, Alyxi.”

“Jacob might be a nice guy. He just has really shitty parents.”

“He does?”

“Yeah, rumor has it that they’re perverts.”

My heart skipped a beat. 

“Really? That’s so sad.”

I played with my hair.

“So, be nice to him.”

“I’m already nice to him. That doesn’t mean he has the right to be an asshole.”

“I’m just saying. Give him a chance.”

“He threw my phone in the trash.”

“He likes you.”

“That doesn’t make sense. First, why would he like me? Second, that doesn’t make the abuse okay.”

We’ve had this discussion about how repulsive I am over and over. It grinded Alyxi down, and I knew that, but I did it anyway. Mostly because it was fact. 

“Oh my god, could you stop?”

“What?”

“People like you.”

“No, they don’t. Look at me.”

Alyxi groaned. “You’re exhausting.”

“Exactly!”

Alyxi threw her burger on her plate done with the conversation.