My story begins with me crying. Many stories that shall remain untold begin that way, and each is different, every bullying annecdote has tiny variations, and i somehow feel dumb because I know mine could have been a lot worse. My school had a deal with some land owners in which they would lend the land to my school for field trips and sports events, and the day my story ends, which is also the day it begins, paradoxically, we went there for a field trip, as we did every thursday. I was 11 at the time. I was fresh out of elementary, and with the transition of leaving elementary, my social circles had been messed up and sectioned, resulting in me being quite lonely and not being sure who I should hang out with. I came to realize that an old friend, Mariana, and her best friend, Nicole, were in my homeroom. They made friends with another girl called Valeria. She'd been in my class once, but we weren't really friends. For lack of anybody else, I started hanging out with them. Right around that time, I'd started drawing little comic strips and tidbits in my homework notebook. I wasn't good at it, but I liked it. In time, I started idolizing my friends, because I saw them as selfless heroes who had saved me from loneliness. I started to make them the main characters of my comic strips, and they seemed to agree and didn't really mind. My first worry came with Valentine's day. For Halloween and Christmas, I'd made them little charms and earrings out of Sculpey, which they'd kindly accepted and never wore, but I didn't notice. For Valentine's day I made them tiny trophies that couldn't even stand on their own since their base was so uneven. With a toothpick, I had written on them: "World's best friend". I had also written a speech praising each of their unique qualities, which they listened to with painful smiles. Sometimes I cringe at my pompous, childish behavior, but then I remember that I was only 11. I was a child. A few hours later, leaving technology class, I saw Valeria's trophy on the floor, smashed.
After that they didn't try to hide their talking behind my back, they used to go somewhere and I'd follow them, they'd listen to what I was saying, and I'd be so thrilled to receive some sort of attention, that I wouldn't notice that they'd have left, and so I'd be talking to myself, and they'd be running away from me. One time they said: "Hey, didn't we have to ask Lucy something?" "Yeah, that's right! Let's go look for Lucy." We went to where Lucy was, and again, they ran away, dumping me there. Yet I didn't understand that they behaved like this because they didn't like me, and so one March morning, in french class I remember, I sent Valeria and Nicole (who both sat behind me) a note. It read something like: "Why are you guys being so mean to me? Not to be rude, but if there's something wrong, you should tell me."
They read the note, looked at each other viciously, and proceeded to scribble an answer for what seemed like hours. When the note finally came back to me, their neat, round, girly handwritings had written so many mean things about me that it seemed in possible that they could fit on the page. One of the worst was by Valeria, it went like this:"You can't draw. I hate the way you talk, you sound like a character in a cheap kid's movie. I hate your stupid ugly crafts. I don't like you, and I can't believe it's taken you so long to notice it" By far, Valeria's message was the most spiteful and poisonous. Thankfully, french class was almost over, and after that, we were to get on the bus to go to the field trip, because the tears I was holding in were breaking their dams. It was the most hurtful thing anybody had ever said to me. I cried all the way from the door of the classroom to where they lined us up to count us to put us on the bus. When we got to the line up, they had a girl tell me to knock off the crying, because if somebody asked me why I was crying and I told them the truth, it would set the whole class against them. And surprisingly I stopped, thinking that it might get them to forgive me and take me back as their friend. The only thing I regret from that day was the fact that I wasn't confident enough to fight back, to realize that I could get other friends anytime. Suddenly, a boy touched my shoulder and asked me what was wrong. I told him and he comforted me. He sang Hey Jude to me, he gave me a sip of his Arizona iced tea, made me laugh, and he distracted me on the bus. He took my mind off things for a while, and little did I know he was to become my best friend, my first heartbreak, and after that, in not enough time to consider what was happening, would hardly ever speak to me again. But that's another story. When we got off the bus, he wished me luck and went off to play soccer with his friends. Now completely alone, I stumbled through the cold wasteland of the field day, between lunch boxes and people sitting on the ground, while sobbing uncontrollably. Suddenly I saw Valeria and Nicole in the distance, reading a comic book together. I sat in front of them, sheepishly. Valeria shot a burning glance at me, then returned to the comic book. Suddenly, someone called out to me. I looked, and a girl who'd been in my class the year before was gesturing me to come. I went, and she told me that she'd seen me crying and asked me what was wrong. I told her and she said that I could stay with them. I was flushed over with relief. I smiled for the first time that day. I was safe. It turns out I didn't belong with her either, nor were her friends exceptionally nice to me, but I regard that short friendship as a transition to the future that lay at my feet. I don't hold a grudge for Valeria and Nicole, since Nicole was a victim of peer pressure, and Valeria was just plain evil. I think that day moved me closer to what I am today, to what I am proud to be.