"Eww, what's that smell?"
My heart jumped to my throat at that triggering nasally voice—one I dreaded each day, one that seemed to take joy in singling me out. Still, I shrunk my shoulders and slouched an inch in my chair, trying to make myself invisible. My hand shook as I concentrated on copying the sentence Miss Finley had written on the board.
A chorus of high-pitched giggles echoed behind me, and my ears burned brightly. From my mind's eye, I could see the ring leader slowly strolling down the aisle, pausing to take exaggerated sniffs in people's personal space.
"Hmm, no, not you," she sang out as her posse continued to cackle. I could picture them at the edge of their seats, their eyes filled with cruel glee as they glanced from their pack leader tome, then back again, eager for the finale. My eyes flicked to the open door, willing Miss Finley to hurry back.
"I'm just popping down to Miss Graves' room to borrow some staples. Stay in your seats, please," she’d ordered. That was two minutes ago.
I felt, rather than saw, my tormentor stop at my desk before she bent down near my head. Her strong body spray hit my nostrils, tickling them. Still, I'd rather smell like her. I did wake up an hour early this morning to wash myself, though we had run out of soap—even dishwasher liquid, so I prayed I was okay.
Long blonde hair brushed my arm, and it took everything in me not to yank the offending strands.
She breathed deeply and closed my eyes in shame, waiting for her inevitable act of fake disgust to play out. Or was it real? I couldn't smell myself, but I always felt dirty.
"Eww, it's Maria.Again." To add salt to the wound, she pointed at me, her finger inches from my face.
A smattering of laughs broke out around the room as a few parroted, "Maria smells, Maria smells, Maria smells!"
I bit my lip to keep the tears at bay, keeping my head down, determined to ignore them. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Not that it would garner any sympathy from them, anyway. The first few times I was teased for stinking, I tried to explain that our water had been cut off, so I couldn't bathe. After a brief, stunned pause, they had glanced at each other blankly before collapsing in loud giggles.
I didn't bother to clarify that even if the water was on, my mom often forgot to help me bathe, leaving me to burn myself as I tried to balance the hot and cold water. Soap was also a luxury that came well below alcohol.
"Leave her alone. Y'all better sit before Miss Finley comes back, or you'll be in trouble," one of the nicer girls warned.
But she was ignored. Why choose to be kind when you could be mean? Especially when you had the class hanging on your every word.
"Did you hear me, Stinky?" A sharp fingernail dug into my arm before a firm kick rattled my ankle.
I clasped my desk in shock. Even some of the kids had gasped. She’d never been physical with me before. The touch was jarring but not unfamiliar. After all, I was used to having hands on me.
A bit of bravado had me lifting my head to meet her stare head-on, glaring at her for touching me. My nose flared, and my mouth tightened in outrage. Her mocking eyes laughed at me, daring me to lash out, knowing she had a crew of clones ready to jump to her defense.
I didn't know what I would've done then because Miss Finley's voice interrupted our stand-off.
"Okay, all those out of your seats will stay back fifteen minutes during lunch break."
A few groans rang out, and my mouth twitched to smile.Shame, bitch, I thought.
Angry eyes snared mine as her lips pursed in rage. Of course, she would find a way to blame me. With one last glare, she flipped her hair and traipsed back to her desk. But not before sweeping my pen off my workbook and onto the floor. Stifled laughter rang out as frustrated tears burned behind my eyes. Miss Finley walked up to my desk and bent, picking up my pen and placing it gently on my open book.
"Here you go, Maria," she gently said. I felt her hand squeeze my shoulder before she strolled away.
"Aren't you curious about what he wants to say? I would be."
I rolled my eyes as Rachel delicately picked off the parchment paper encased around her chocolate chip muffin. Her legs swung at her perch on my desk. I reached out and jiggled a piece of paper she was sitting on, only for her to lift one butt cheek so I could remove it. So much for hints.
"You're just saying that because Brian happened to get your coffee order right."
She threw her hands in the air, crumbs flying. "What are the chances!"
"That you happen to like a latte? One of the most basic coffee orders? Quite high."
"Are you calling me basic?" She huffed with mock indignation. The chocolate smudged on her chin ruined the effect.
I surveyed Rachel's tattooed-covered arms, her black button vest, which clearly showed she wore no bra underneath, and the blue streaks in her hair.
"You know damn well there's nothing basic about you."
