The Gathering

“What if I don’t want to gather around the table?  Especially with them!  I will not do it.”  Emily crossed her arms across her chest and I admired her bravery.  No one had ever had the guts to stand up to Mr. Johnson.  As the head of the school, he ran us ragged with fear.  The fear of making a mistake.  The fear of not making all A’s.  The fear of not being friends with everyone.  Or else. 

But now, Mr. Johnson wanted Emily to be in the same pod as Eva, Steph and Madison.  The same girls who tortured Emily on a daily basis.  I knew it, Emily knew it, even Mr. Johnson knew what he was asking her to do.  I was happy Emily was standing up for herself at a time no one else would.  I did hope she was successful.  Otherwise, her remaining time at school would be more miserable than it already was. 

“No.  I will not.  I will not be in the same group as those three.  I refuse,” Emily repeated herself and I saw her straighten her shoulders.  I hoped she was gearing up for a fight and I hoped she knew what she was doing.  I knew from experience the cost of standing up to Mr. Johnson.  I had been suffering in silence for more than a year.  Nothing could be as bad as the torture I had endured.  Nothing was as bad as the rules my father made me follow. The clothes he made me wear. It was horrifying and nobody understood why I wouldn’t be happy wearing Gucci and Prada. All it did was remind me of my mother. The mother who disappeared when I was ten.