class. I would, too, if I looked like that.
I lifted my hand to brush my hair from my face and the girl did the same thing at the same time. I took a step forward and she had vanished. I stopped, stepped backward and she appeared again, looking at me with a puzzled expression.
“Wait,” I said and I saw her mouth move in sync with mine. Cautiously I lifted one hand, and to my horror she did the same. Was she making fun of me or what?
“Listen, you,” I said and took a threatening step toward her. She did the same. I froze as I realized I was staring into a mirror. This dumpy, clueless, disgusting person had to be me. I looked down and saw this was true. I was wearing a purple hand-knitted sweater and a long shapeless skirt. And as I touched the rough yarn of the sweater I remembered my mother making it for me. She was always knitting me things until I told her that there was no way I was ever going to be seen dead in something she made for me again. But that was after Sally Ann helped me lose weight and taught me how to dress.
So why had I gone back to looking like this? When had I put on all this weight I’d taken all that trouble to lose? And why wasn’t I even bothering to wear makeup? The accident—I thought. It must have been a really bad accident and I must have been in the hospital for a while and put on weight while I was there and my old clothes were the only things that would fit me. But would I ever have left the house willingly looking like this? I tried to remember getting ready this morning, eating breakfast, driving or taking a school bus, but no memories would come. I really was in a bad way, but I was sure of one thing: when I got home tonight I was going to burn these icky clothes and go on a crash diet until I looked like myself again.
Then I remembered the examination. That was more important right now than worrying about the way I was dressed. I peered through the half darkness to see if the rooms were numbered, but they were not. How was I supposed to find the six hundred hall if I didn’t know where I was now?
Simple, I thought. I’d find the office and have someone show me the way. And if I was late for the exam, they’d understand that I was new. At least I could make myself a bit more presentable before anyone saw me. I could slick back my hair and roll up that long skirt and perhaps I was wearing a T-shirt under the sweater. I ducked into a girls’ bathroom at the end of the hall and coughed as the smell of smoke met me. The air was so thick with smoke that the lighting created a red haze through which the shape of the sinks and the stalls beyond were only indistinct shapes. Then I saw that I wasn’t alone. Four girls, dressed in black, were lounging against the basins, smoking. They were all in tight, tight jeans and black T-shirts with skulls and similar scary images on them. They looked up with cold, predatory eyes as I came in. As the biggest one, wearing a studded leather jacket, turned to me, a trick of the reddish shadows almost made it look as if she had a tail. I gasped.
“Well, look what the cat just brought in,” she said. Two others straightened up.
“What do you think you’re doing, fatso scum?” The one in the studded jacket stepped right in front of me and blew smoke in my face. “Are you totally clueless? Don’t you know that this is the GothChix bathroom? Nobody else comes in here, not if they know what’s good for them. The last stupid girl said she really had to go, so could she possibly use the toilet. And you know—we let her. Well, actually we flushed her head down the toilet. And she was so scared she wet herself, remember?”
She looked to her friends for confirmation and they nodded, grinning.
“But her head wasn’t quite as round as yours. Yours would probably get stuck and the janitor would have to come and get you out.”
“Or she’d have to walk around with a toilet on her head all day,” someone else commented. “I’d like to see that.”
The other girls laughed.
“Wanna try?” She moved closer again.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I said, holding up my hands in front of me as if to ward off a blow. “I didn’t know. I’m new here. I don’t belong.”
“She’s right about that. She belongs at a bag ladies’ convention,” one of the other girls said. She gave me a shove, sending me sprawling into the big girl. The studs on that jacket dug into my cheek and I gave a cry of pain. They laughed again.
“What’s your name, bag lady?” she asked.
“It’s Amy. Amy Weinstein.”
“We won’t forget it, Amy Weinstein. We don’t like the look of you. You better watch yourself.”
Some of my innate spunk was resurfacing. “You can’t talk to me like that. I’ll report you to the principal.”
For some reason this made them roar with laughter. “Oh, that’s a good one,” one of the girls said, wiping her eyes.
“If she really wants to go see the principal, then good luck to her,” another said.
The big girl grabbed my sweater front and dragged me close to her. “I’ll tell you one thing, girl. You show your face in here again and we’ll pull out your eyelashes, one by one. Got it?” She gave me a hearty shove that sent me ricocheting off the basins and staggering into the tiled wall. “Now get lost.”
I fled, disgusted at myself for not standing up to them. The hallway was still deserted and opened into another, identical hallway. I must be really, seriously late for that exam by now. I wondered if I dared to report those girls and what they might do to me if I did. One thing’s for sure, I thought as I hurried forward, peering into the darkness that seemed even deeper in this hallway, there is no way I’m staying here. What were my parents thinking, sending me to a place like this? If it’s just one exam I’m supposed to take here, then fine, but I’m sure as hell not coming back.
Then a thought flashed across my consciousness. An image of a grave and I’m dressed in black and . . . my father is dead. I went to his funeral. I stopped walking and stood, frowning as I tried to make sense of this fact. How could that be? I tried to picture that funeral but nothing would come. A bell rang, jangling loudly above my head. Doors opened and students streamed out, making me feel like a salmon swimming upstream. I was pushed and jostled around as they hurried past.
“Wait,” I called. “I’m trying to find the six hundred hall. Room six hundred and sixty-six.”
They acted as if they hadn’t heard me. Their faces went past me in a blur. The hallway cleared until it was deserted again. I decided I should follow them—at least I’d have a chance of finding a classroom with someone in it before the next period started. As I walked on down the hall I heard the sound of knocking—a hollow hammering sound. It seemed to be coming from one of the lockers. I went over and listened. As well as the knocking I heard a muffled voice yelling, “Help, let me out.”
I opened the locker door and a small skinny boy half fell out. He was naked, wearing his underpants over his head. I helped him to his feet.
“Here,” I said, taking his underpants off his head. “You’d better put these on quickly. I won’t look.” I turned away.
“Thanks,” he said. “I’ve been in there since last night. I thought I was going to pass out from lack of air.”
“What happened to your clothes?” I looked in the locker.
“The jocks took them. I expect they’ve dumped them in the trash and they’ve been burned by now.”
“Come on,” I said. “I’ll take you to the principal’s office and you can report them. And you can telephone your parents for more clothes.”
“Are you crazy? I’m not going anywhere near the principal’s office,” he said. “I’m not that stupid. I’ll see if I can find something to fit me in the lost and found.” He started down the hall, but then turned back. “Thanks for rescuing me.”
“You should seriously report this. It’s not right. Bullies should be punished.”
“Happens all the time,” he said. “If you’re small they pick on you. Bullies rule here. You’re either the predator or the prey. And you’ll be prey, just like me.”
“Then transfer to another school.”
For some reason this made him grin. “You must be new,” he said.
“I am, and I’m supposed to be taking an exam, in the six hundred hall.”
“Room six-six-six?” he asked and made a face.
I nodded. “Can you tell me where it is? I’m already late.”
“Oh no. You’d better run. That direction. You keep going until the very end, then up the stairs to the top floor.
