Fourteen by C.M. Smith (short story to read .txt) 📕

my injured wrist in my lap and nervously twirling a lock of my hair with my free hand.

Just another day, Anna. One more day closer to graduation and getting the hell out of here. It’s just one more day. Remember—starting over.

“Look to the person you’re sitting next to,” Mr. Streeter said, holding his hands up in the air, palms facing out.

“Do I have to?” Evan asked, leaning forward and resting his head in his hand.

Snickers erupted throughout the room, and I looked down at my lap as tears flooded my eyes.

“This will be your partner for the project that I’m assigning.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Evan exclaimed, slamming his fist down on the table. I jumped, wanting to crawl into a hole when everyone laughed at me. “You want me to deal with this?”

“You will or you fail,” Mr. Streeter deadpanned, turning his back on us and walking to the chalkboard.

I kept my eyes on my notebook for the rest of class, barely hearing anything as the teacher told us the requirements for the upcoming science fair. I listened to Evan grumble about the whole situation the entire time. My jaw ached with the effort I used to keep the tears from falling.

I set my injured wrist on the table at one point and shifted uneasily on the uncomfortable stool. I heard Evan take a sharp breath, and I glanced over at him, noticing his eyes were focused on the marks that were rapidly becoming bruises. I pulled it back to my lap and stopped trying to get comfortable after that. I didn’t know what his expression meant, but if he wanted to hurt me again, I didn’t want to give him any more ammunition.

The bell finally rang, and I was quick to gather my things, minding my wrist as I juggled the books in my arms.

“Arianna, I’m—” Evan began, his voice low and quiet.

“I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me, Evan,” I said, cutting him off. “I’ll do all the work by myself if you prefer.”

“No, I just wanted to make sure—”

“I’ll be sure to put your name on it as well. I’ve got it covered.” I squeezed by him. I walked out of the room and hurried to my locker, grabbing the books I’d need for my next class. The day had started out badly enough, and I really didn’t want it to get any worse.

I trudged up the porch steps to the house, my book bag trailing behind me and bouncing against the steps as I walked.

My dad wasn’t home yet. He was almost never here when I got home, and for the first time in a long time, I was thankful that he wasn’t. I didn’t mind being alone in the mornings, but I really hated coming home to an empty house after school. I usually wanted someone to talk to because going through the day by myself only made me lonely.

Today, however, I welcomed the silence.

My wrist throbbed, and as the day went on, I noticed it was even a little puffy. I’d gone to the nurse in between third and fourth period to get an ice pack, stating that I’d fallen down and landed on it the wrong way. During lunch, I’d bought orange juice and set my wrist on the bottle the entire time. No one sat with me—Christina and Vince were nowhere to be found, and I suspected that they were breaking in the backseat of his newly-acquired Honda—so I didn’t have to worry about explaining anything. What could I say? I didn’t want to get Christina and Vince started. Upsetting the balance of the sports in this school would not bode well, and no one else would believe that perfect Evan Drake had stooped so low to actually touch me. It wouldn’t make a difference if they’d seen it with their own two eyes.

After grabbing an ice pack from the freezer, I made it into my room and set my book bag down by my nightstand. Plopping down onto my bed, I cradled my wrist and the ice pack in my hand and rested it in my lap. It was definitely bruised and still a little puffy, but it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.

I felt the sting of tears and leaned forward, resting my feet on the bed frame and burying my face in my knees. I crushed my wrist against my chest and wrapped my other arm around my legs. My tears fell and my sobs filled my empty room.

I wasn’t a bad person. I’d done my best to be nice to everyone in our school, and they just didn’t care. They were so concerned with the way I looked that it didn’t matter to them if we liked the same things. It didn’t matter if our favorite bands were the same, or if we felt the same way about something that we’d heard on the news. I wasn’t thin, and I wasn’t popular, so I had to become their target.

It wasn’t as if I was the only heavy person in our school. Yes, it was a small school, but not everyone was as thin as their group was.

I didn’t know how long I sat there crying, my tears and sobs a product of everything that had gone wrong during the day. I heard a series of loud knocks on the door downstairs, but I ignored it, hoping that whoever it was would go away. I wiped the tears from my face and did my best to get my breathing under control.

But the mystery visitor continued to pound on the door. I finally huffed with annoyance. Keeping my wrist close to my chest and placing the ice pack on my bed, I rubbed the heel of my other hand in my eye as I walked down the stairs. I yanked open the door and caught my breath when I saw Evan standing there.

“C . . . can I