I’m sorry,” Teresa whispered across the orchestra room. Teresa, the one who did it, sat there smiling, her dark hair in braids, her brown eyes sparkling. She sat there talking to her friends, not a care in the world. I practiced my cello; the deep, rich sound resonating through the air. I knew that she would never be sorry, just as I would never forgive her. She and her friend had given me a memory that I could never forget
*****

It was May and I had come into school wearing a black skirt with a striped top that matched it exactly. I almost never wore skirts, or anything much more than jean shorts and a t-shirt, and I wasn’t used to having people who never even talked to me giving me compliments. “Nice skirt,” my friend Evalynn eyed me, “I’ve never seen you wear a skirt to school before.” I smiled and acknowledged her compliment. I walked down the crowded hallway to my locker and set down my backpack with a sigh; it was going to be a long day.

I had been sick for days and had missed one of the biggest tests of the year. I walked down to the principal’s office with my number two pencil clenched tightly in my fist and with a feeling of dread so heavy I felt like the pencil weighed a thousand pounds. The principal bustled out of her office and motioned for me to follow; even with me in flats and her in heels, I was taller than she was. “You look so cute!” the principal exclaimed as she looked up at me through her glasses. I looked down and shuffled my foot; I didn’t know what to say.

“Am I taking the test in here?” I asked. I looked around the small office; I had been here before but just on errands for my teachers. The desk was cluttered with décor that the principal had collected over her years at the school and books and literary magazines crowded the small bookshelves. The only uncluttered space was the table and chairs in the back corner of the office. “Yes, take a seat wherever you are comfortable,” she replied. I nodded and took my pick of the three chairs that were most always occupied by the kids who were in trouble.

I took my test: answered the questions and wrote the essays. I checked over my answers and closed the booklet in what seemed like record time. “I’m finished,” I said. My own voice was the only sound, other than the tick of the office clock, that I had heard since I had sat down to take the test.

The principal looked up from her computer. “You may go now, just leave the test on my desk.” I did just that and got out as fast as I could. I ran up to my locker and checked my watch, the digital numbers read 10:40 AM. I was just late for social studies. I grabbed my binder and briskly walked down the hallway to my class.

I opened the door to the crowded classroom. “Walsh, Madison,” the substitute teacher said.

“Here,” I heard her answer. I was already marked absent. I walked up to the teacher and told him where I had been.

“Alright, go take a seat,” he said as he changed my attendance from absent to tardy.

“Come sit with me!” my friend Alice cried. I made my way over to the far side of the room where she was sitting. “How was your test?” she asked.

“Too easy,” I answered.
She nodded, “I thought so.” She started to debrief me on everything that I had missed so far that day. I zoned out and looked around the room. It was just an ordinary classroom: the same duct-taped carpets, the same cheesy posters and the same people that I was in class with all day except for a few, like Teresa and Angela who were sitting right behind me.

“Nobody likes you,” I heard somebody say.
I snapped back to Alice, “Who said that?” She shrugged but we both turned around. Teresa was smiling sardonically at me but I paid her no mind. I turned to Angela; she had three different shirts on, her hair was styled so that only one side of her head was covered and she was fingering a bottle of purple nail polish.

“What’s the nail polish for?” I asked her. She shrugged and continued to fiddle with it. I had never gotten along with Angela and at one point she had even sworn at Evalynn in the middle of class, with no consequence to her.

“Maybe she wants to paint her nails,” suggested Alice. We both knew that wasn’t very likely but we turned around none the less. Mr. Gray, the substitute teacher, popped a movie into the television. The screen flashed on and the title showed, Lord of the Rings. I grinned and all of my friends looked my way; it was my favorite movie in the entire world. I knew many of the lines by heart and exactly when they were said. I was excited but the feeling was ephemeral.

“Teacher’s pet,” Teresa whispered into my ear. I gulped, that wasn’t in the movie. I did my best to ignore her, to enjoy the movie, but she made it impossible.

“You don’t have any friends,” this time it was louder, like she wanted to announce the fact to the world. This time Alice heard and she turned around.

“Of course she has friends!” she exclaimed, “What does it look like I am?” She started to defend me. I slowly turned around to look at Teresa. I knew that the things that she was saying weren’t true, so why should I believe her. I tried to convince myself of this and I tried to put all of the hatred and hurt into a single, burning stare.
“I have friends!” I stated simply after a few moments. I sighed and turned back around to face the television. I watched as the excitement of the movie built but I just couldn’t enjoy it. The things she said went around and around in my head, “You don’t have any friends,” “Nobody likes you!” “Teacher’s pet!” I shook my head. I wished that with that small movement all of the things she said would just fly out the window and not bother me anymore.
`
“Do you smell that?” Alice asked.

“Smell what?” I said as took a deep whiff of the air.

“It smells like,” she paused, “nail polish.” I nodded and shrugged. If Angela painted her nails in school it was none of my business. I picked up my pencil and started to nervously fiddle with it. I tapped it on my desk and started to roll it around. It slid off my desk and on to the floor behind me. I groaned and bent over my chair to retrieve it.

As I turned, my finger caught in something sticky on the back of my chair. I jerked my hand back and turned to look at it. It was covered with something purple and tacky – the nail polish.

“It’s on my chair!!!!” I said to Alice. I was freaking out on the inside, I was furious.

“Is it on your shirt?” she asked. I paused for a second, as I hadn’t even thought of that possibility.

“I don’t know. Can you check?” I went from angry to worried. I turned around and let her take a look. At first she didn’t say anything.

“I think we should go to the bathroom,” she suggested, but the tone of her voice gave me the answer. I shot out of my seat and Alice followed suit.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I announced to Mr. Gray.

“Me too!” Alice added. We ran out of the room before we could even get an answer. I ran into the bathroom while Alice stopped at my locker to grab the change of clothes that I had with me.

I went to the sink and washed off my hand. I looked at myself in the mirror and I couldn’t believe what had happened; I just wanted to cry. I knew that there would be enough people freaking out at the situation when I brought it to a teacher’s attention, but first I needed to figure out what was going on. I pictured all of the fuss and chaos surrounding me when I went to deal with whatever it was that happened, I still wasn’t completely sure. I could see the adults swarming me and making it seem like I was the one making a big deal and acting all upset when really I just wanted for something realistic and practical to be done with the situation.

I dried my hands with a rough brown paper towel and carefully twisted my arm out of my shirtsleeves and rotated the shirt around so that the back was in the front. I looked down and a single line ran down from one point on my shirt that now rested on my stomach. A long purple line breaking up the solid pattern of stripes that made up the shirt: a line like a single purple tear.