I woke up on Saturday to Abigail bringing me breakfast in bed. She walked into the room, set the tray down, and said:
"Sweetie, I'm sorry. I waited for you to wake up on your own, but we need to go buy your school supplies. Your dad has already called twice."
Still half-asleep, I looked at the clock. It was already 10:15 a.m. I jumped out of bed.
"Wow! I've never woken up this late."
"It's normal, you were tired," Abigail said with a smile. "But take your time—have breakfast and get dressed. I'll be waiting downstairs."
I nodded and she left the room. I glanced at the tray: some things I didn't usually eat, like jam and toast. I ate only the fruit, though they were pretty tasteless—fruits from the countryside were much better. Then I brushed my teeth, changed clothes, and went downstairs. Abigail was waiting for me, and we headed out to the car.
On the way to the mall, we chatted a little. As soon as we arrived, we went straight to the store. I chose each item carefully, until my eyes landed on a notebook from my favorite band, Coldplay. I rushed over to grab it, and Abigail followed after noticing my excitement. I hugged the notebook tightly and saw it was a bit expensive.
"Abigail, can I get this one?" I asked, hopeful.
She smiled."Of course! Your father said you can choose whatever you want—just don't forget anything from the list."
While I flipped through the notebook, I heard footsteps behind me and smelled a strong, sickly perfume getting closer. I blinked, uncomfortable. When I turned around, I saw a tall, thin blonde girl—her lightly wavy hair looked like it had been perfectly styled, not a single strand out of place. She looked about my age. She was wearing sky-high heels, a tiny skirt, and sunglasses. In her arms was a small Yorkshire terrier, and a store clerk stood next to her.
"Miss, here's the notebook from the band you wanted," the clerk said.
The girl looked at the shelf and asked:
"Where is it?"
"I'll check the stock," the employee replied.
The blonde girl looked annoyed while the clerk searched on her tablet. I kept browsing pens.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, we're out of stock," the clerk said.
The blonde exploded. Shocked by her rudeness, I instinctively glanced at her. That's when her eyes locked onto the notebook inside my basket.
"Oh, there's one right here!" she said, snatching it.
I immediately grabbed it back.
"No. This one is mine. Sorry—try another store."
She lifted her sunglasses and glared at me, her light green eyes full of anger.
"You can't give it to me?"
"Of course not," I replied firmly.
Abigail stepped in calmly:
"Sorry, miss, but she took it first. Please try another store. Excuse us."
We turned and walked away. I heard the girl stomping in frustration.
"That little poor girl probably has to pay for her supplies in twenty installments too—pathetic," she muttered.
I also heard her complain that the store was a "dump" before she left. I was shocked, but decided not to dwell on it. Abigail and I had a great day together—we had lunch at the mall and talked a lot.
When I got home, I was exhausted and collapsed into bed. Brandon texted me asking me out, but I already knew my dad wouldn't allow it, so I made up an excuse. Nothing exciting happened after the shopping trip—I ended up falling asleep early.
On Sunday, Abigail made a delicious pizza for lunch and we spent the afternoon playing Uno—my dad, Abigail, and I—until Dad got a phone call and stepped out. When he returned, he asked:
"Mia, do you want to go out for dinner tonight?"
"No, I want to sleep early. School starts tomorrow."
He chuckled.
"You're more responsible than I am!" he joked.
"Dad, can I go to the pool?"
"Of course, you don't have to ask."
I spent the rest of the afternoon swimming. Then I showered and organized my school supplies, excited. I went to bed early.
Monday morning, Abigail woke me up at seven.
"Mia, wake up. It's time, sweetheart."
Then I remembered: my first day at the new school. My stomach dropped, but I got ready. When I went downstairs, my dad was waiting.
"I'll take you today, but starting tomorrow, the driver will. I'll also make arrangements for you to get your license so you can drive soon."
I jumped with excitement and kissed him.
"Women always jump when they get something!" Dad joked, making Abigail laugh.
On the way to school, he said:
"Sweetie, I may be old, but I remember how cruel school can be. If anything happens, you tell me."
"It'll be fine," I reassured him confidently. I'd never had problems at my old school, after all.
When we arrived, I studied the enormous building. The principal was waiting at the entrance. My dad didn't get out—he just waved goodbye and headed to work. The principal introduced herself, but I barely paid attention—I was too busy looking around.
"Come on, I'll take you to your classroom," she said.
Curious, I asked her name.
She pointed at her badge.
"Welsh," I read aloud. "Oh, sorry—Mrs. Welsh."
"That's alright," she smiled.
Inside, a few students were already there. Everyone stared at me. Mrs. Welsh introduced me, and I chose a seat. Soon, the girl next to me turned and said:
"Hi, I'm Emma. I'm new here too."
I looked at her for a moment—she was beautiful: dark skin, long curly hair, deep brown eyes.
I sighed in relief."Hi, I'm Mia."
Emma smiled. But suddenly, the room went silent. I thought it was the teacher, but no—unfortunately, it was the blonde girl from the store. She stared at me and smirked.
"Wow, standards have really dropped around here. Thank God it's our last year."
I froze. She approached Emma.
"Excuse me, that's my seat. Has been since eighth grade."
Emma smiled calmly."Everything ends eventually. This year, it's my seat."
The room held its breath. The blonde insisted:
"I'll say it nicely one more time. Move."
Emma didn't budge."I'm not moving."
Just then, the teacher entered.
"Katty, honey, you don't own any real estate here. Lower your ego—she got here first."
The whole class laughed. Furious, Katty sat elsewhere but muttered:
"This isn't over."
As the teacher continued talking, a guy with a tough look—long messy hair, baggy clothes—walked in. He apologized quickly, kissed Katty on the cheek, and sat near her.
"This year is going to be a mess, Wender," Katty huffed, crossing her arms.
He glanced at Emma and smirked.
"I can tell. But hey, dealing with messes is what we do best."
Emma sighed, like she already knew exactly who they were. Meanwhile, I couldn't stop thinking about how brave she was… and how terrified I was.
At lunch break, Emma and I sat together. We talked a lot, becoming fast friends—two newcomers trying to survive that hostile place. She told me she'd lived in London for a few years and had just moved back to Florida a month ago.
The rest of the day was torture: jokes, dirty looks, cruel whispers. I was scared.
When the bell finally rang, I stood up to gather my things. Suddenly, someone bumped into me hard—everything fell from my arms.
"Oh dear, sorry, I didn't see you," Katty said with fake innocence.
I stayed silent. Emma didn't.
"I think you're the one who needs glasses, sweetheart."
Katty turned to her, eyes narrowed.
"Glasses? Careful, or you're gonna need a cornea transplant if you don't shut up."
Before it escalated, Wender grabbed her arm.
"Come on, remember we've got tennis practice?"
They walked off. I exhaled in relief. While Emma and I picked up my stuff, a boy stopped to help.
"Thank you," I said.
Emma smiled at him."What's your name?"
"Adam. I've been stuck in this hellhole for a year," he replied casually.
I let out a nervous laugh."Hell?"
He shrugged."Yep. Welcome to it."
He patted my shoulder and left. Emma and I exchanged the same exact thought: Where did we end up?
We headed to the parking lot. Katty hopped onto the back of Wender's motorcycle and yelled:
"Hey, country girl! Welcome to the big city!"
I looked down at my clothes, confused. Why "country girl"?
"Don't pay attention to her," Emma muttered, rolling her eyes.
I took a deep breath. After we exchanged numbers, Emma and I said goodbye. I got in the car—the driver was already waiting. On the way home, I couldn't hold back the tears. It was like a nightmare. Sure, there was bullying back in Staunton too, but nothing like this. And never directed at me.
I put on my headphones, leaned my head against the window, and wished with all my heart that this was just a bad dream. That I would wake up tomorrow and find kind, respectful people at school.
But then I heard the driver's voice:
"We're here, Miss."
Unfortunately, it wasn't a dream.
It was my new reality.