"O h God, do I really have to do this?” She pressed her forehead against the cold metal of her locker and sighed. She looked up, turned around, and headed down the hall towards her 9th grade English classroom, the room of abuse. Tears moistened her blue eyes as she drew close. She entered the room, grasping her books, found her seat, and slid into it, slumping, brushing a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, and hoping to somehow miraculously go unnoticed and be spared that day.

For eight years, she had gone to private Catholic school; then her father lost his job. Her family was suddenly very poor. They had to move to a different city, and this very shy, very devout girl of faith and her two sisters now had to attend public school. Culture shock. The kids were decidedly different than the ones she had known her whole life, in a word, tougher. A girl who had been used to wearing her plaid jumpers everyday suddenly found herself with severe limitations concerning clothes, and her father was in no position to buy three girls new wardrobes, so they could fit into their new judgmental world. On top of this, she was skinny and had terrible acne.

She sat at her desk, squirming in anticipation, hearing the voice of condemnation in her mind. She wasn’t pretty enough, good enough, rich enough. Shyness hurt like a disease, causing pain on a daily basis.

The teacher walked by and dropped another “A” paper onto her desktop. She managed a small smile. This reminded her of how the week before, one of the girls from the “tough” crowd approached her saying, “I got a “B” in Algebra; I owe it to you and all the time you spent tutoring me. Thanks.” I helped someone. I made a difference. As usual, she was her own source of comfort and joy, internal words a source of survival in this tough new world.

Our shy girl’s sliver of silent revelry was rudely interrupted. He walked into the classroom, and her heart sank. She heard him talk with his buddies, saying cruel things about her loudly enough to humiliate her in front of the class. “Look at the geek! She’s wearing the same pair of pants as she did yesterday!” followed by wild laughter.

She clenched her fists under her desktop. “It’s either a new pair of jeans or food for the week. Which would you choose?” But she didn’t voice this, and it remained internal dialogue.

The teacher asked everyone to discuss their birthplaces. When Shy Girl’s turn arrived, she thought that nothing could go wrong. It was a simple assignment. She began to speak of Kentucky, the gorgeous bluegrass state. Almost immediately, her personal bully blurted out, “So that’s why she’s an idiot, she’s a hillbilly!” Several people laughed. Tears filled her eyes. She thought, “What is he talking about? I was born in a beautiful college town where my father studied engineering at a major university, and my mother was a journalist and assistant editor for the state’s second largest newspaper.” But she was way too introverted to stand up for herself. She spent the rest of the day with students calling her a hillbilly, and sadness gripping her chest, making it hurt.

Her justice would remain in the form of internal dialogue, telling him how awful he was and that he owed her an apology. These unspoken words came from a profound place and gave her the comfort a punch to his face might have, but without the regret that would follow.

His mocking turned people against her; she found herself the victim of physical abuse as a result. One day as she was walking home, a girl approached her and punched her in the face. A crowd gathered because the girl wanted to fight. Why? I am a very spiritual girl who has never hurt anyone.

She saw some friends, but they stood back silent. Not liking violence, she would only defend and prepared to if her opponent swung again. People hurled insults. She couldn’t understand how they could attack her when she had done nothing to merit this behavior. Her adversary waited for her to make the next move, but she walked away with her chin up, shaking with fear but filled with human dignity. People called her chicken for not letting this girl have it.

What they didn’t realize was that it took a hell of a lot of courage in not continuing the fight. She was afraid, not to fight, but of being surrounded by hostile people that she had never done anything bad to. Physical pain had nothing on emotional pain, for she had lived with that for some time. Getting beat up would have hurt less than people falsely believing her a coward, but she did what she thought was right and took the emotional blow.

As her friends stood quietly by, her heart fell to her feet. Knowing she would be branded poorly for it, she gathered her courage and went home. The next day, her personal bully found out about the incident and made her life hell. Now even her friends were being cruel. When the shy little fourteen-year-old told them her dream of being in a rock band, they would laugh, and look at her as if she were a talented comedian. “You?” They would say, “You must be kidding!” But L loved music, and her faith was strong. Her heart told her on a daily basis to just believe. Music gave her a sense of dignity because she respected it and it called to her. She decided to start over at another school.

Three years later.

She came back to her original school to finish up a class that she had never completed. Her acne was gone. Her hair was a lot longer; she dressed exceedingly differently. Her second high school had been good to her. But now she was back for a brief stint. She was outside in the parking lot with a friend. They had just stepped out of his black Camaro.

“Will the instruments be okay in the trunk?” She asked her tall, blond-haired friend.

“Yeah, class will be out in an hour.”

They walked to the courtyard of the school because they had a few minutes before their next class started. She took out a cigarette. He lit it then lit his own. She took a drag and looked over at her lead guitarist.

“It’s going well, but Jon, I’m having trouble with one of our songs.”

“Who cares, all you’d have to do is just stand there on stage, and no one would even notice if you had an ounce of talent!”

She looked at him annoyed.

“That’s an insult. Of course it matters if I have talent! That’s why I’m in the band, right?”

“Well, yes, but we chose you over others for a reason. Accept it.”

“Accept what?” She snapped.

He glanced at her smiling. “If I didn’t have a girlfriend, I’d be hitting on you. You’re gorgeous. It’s an advantage, so be happy about it.”

She blew out the smoke from the last drag of her cigarette and threw the butt on the ground. She stepped on it with her black high-heeled shoe and crushed it.

She mumbled more to herself than Jon, “I received no respect when I was a pizza-face and the problem has only become worse now that I’m…”

“Hot,” he interjected, smiling. “We all respect you, so don’t worry.”

“I hope so. I’m very serious about music.” Every single day of my life, since I was a little girl it’s all I wanted…

“Gotta go.”

“Catch you later,” she responded.

He turned and left. Suddenly a guy approached her. She frowned.

“Oh no, not him,” she thought, “the bully from 9th grade. She wondered what he wanted with her and braced herself. She stood to her height and inhaled deeply.

“Hello,” he said grinning. “I’m Dan, and you’re sexy. Your name is…”

She looked at him oddly, taken back. He was surveying her head to toe in her nice black dress.

“It’s L, don’t you remember me?”

“No,” he squinted.

“I was the girl you hated so much our freshman year. You bullied me relentlessly, embarrassed me publicly numerous times.”

“I…don’t recall that. I honestly don’t think we’ve met before.”

She cast him a look of amazement and opened her mouth to say something, but hesitated. Surprisingly, there was no anger in her heart, no voices of hatred whispering in her ear.

“No hard feelings, Dan.”

She reached for his hand to shake it. Instead of grasping it firmly, to her shock, he raised her fingers to his lips and tenderly kissed them. Her eyes opened wide in total unexpectedness of the moment. She slowly lowered her hand and considered him.

“L, you would make my day if you would go out with me. You are the prettiest girl in school. I wish I had seen you before this day.”

This is incredible. “I… I don’t know.”

“I’m very nice, you’ll see.”

“Perhaps we could be friends.”

The next day, he brought her a rose, and every day after that. He promised to keep bringing them until the day when she would go out with him. She would talk to him as a friend. She didn’t intend to get justice with him, but sometimes revenge is unintentional; she was just not attracted to him romantically.

One day her band played at their school. The lights were dim, then slowly lit up with an azure hue to reveal the band and L wearing a lovely deep blue dress. She addressed the crowd. “I know you’re here to see a rock show, but we’d like to begin with a blues piece. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

The first notes began; then she started in a sultry voice, reaching deep within her heart to retrieve the pain that still resided there. Afterwards, Dan jumped onto the stage and pressed her into a kiss. She pulled away and trembled, astonished; the room was hushed. She leaned to whisper into his ear, “I’m sorry Dan; I like you as a friend but nothing more.”

“I can change your mind if you’ll give me a chance.”

She gazed into his desperate eyes and dug deep into her emotions in an effort to retrieve something for him, but nothing was there. She sighed. I just can’t.

He kept coming to her with roses until sometime later he saw her in her new boyfriend’s embrace at school. Dan dropped the roses and stopped talking to her after that. L noticed him walking away and muttered, “Even though my friendship isn’t good enough for you, I wish you the very best and happiness.”