Pierced Love (2 page)

My teenage little sister, now a prima donna, is too good to ride to school with my parents and would rather risk driving in with me.

But why the hell would she rather drive with me, no one ever wants to be caught dead with me…the freak.

“Yea, that’s fine I guess. Go up and get changed and meet me out in the bug. Don’t take forever either, I can’t be late.”

“What do you mean go get changed? I wear this stuff all the time, its trendy, Zar,” she says doing a twirl in the middle of the kitchen.

I look at my sister from head to toe. She’s wearing black shoes, pink leggings with a frilly black skirt and a pink and black checkered shirt. I shake my head.

“Fine, then let’s go,” I reply, while picking up my messenger tote and keys from the counter.

“You should talk. You dress like the grim reaper. I don’t think you have a splash of color anywhere in your closet.”

“What the hell, shut up Zoe! If you want a ride, you’ll shut the hell up now!” I yell at her as my emotions begin to bring bile to my throat.

No, no, no…not now. I’m not even out the door and I’m getting comments on my god damn clothing.

I give her another death glare and reach for the last sip of my juice.

“Fine, fine I’ll be quiet,” she whispers again while grabbing her book bag.

I may dress in a different style than the majority of the teenage world, but who cares…I sure as hell could give a shit.

Following my little sister out the door and into the garage, I shake my head at her. My sister and I get into my black Volkswagen Beetle and drive down the long windy driveway, through the streets of the neighborhood and out of our subdivision.

My family lives in a wealthy area of Des Moines, Iowa and our development is surrounded by gates and security cameras.

I wouldn’t say that my family is rich, more like we’re fortunate to have the things we do because both my parents are cardiac surgeons. I’m the middle child of the family and as black of a sheep as they come. In fact, last weekend I went downtown and got my first tattoo. I haven’t had the guts to tell my parents yet. Not like it’s anything rebellious or anything, just a simple heart with my initials in the center. Being the middle child isn’t all that bad. I have a brother Zeke, who is six years older than me and a sister Zoe, who is six years younger than me.

Growing up, we were raised by both parents, but I was the unorthodox child who turned against the whole prissy, preppy ways of the family. Once I hit junior high school, I was treated differently by my peers in school and everything just seemed to change from that point forward.

I’ve always been an academic scholar and I never paid much attention to the in…or the out crowd for that matter. That may have been my downfall, but no matter what, I still do my own thing and work my ass off to get the best grades possible.

I’m not risking my future to encourage the respect of my peers. The sooner I can graduate from high school, the better.

I’ve done pretty damn well for myself, I must say. I’ll be graduating this year and moving onto Iowa State, with what I hope is a full academic scholarship. Even though my family can afford to send me to college anywhere; I still want to do this on my own.

I pull up to the local junior high school and stop behind the line of cars. Zoe is bouncing in the seat next to me. anxious for me to pull up to the curb.

Looking over in her direction, I see she has a huge grin on her face. I know that she’s excited to start school this year, but I worry she’ll run into the same issues I did at her age. I know it’s not my job to protect her, but I want to hide her from the pain and anxiety I face every day.

I’m glad I can drop her off here, but who’s going to take her home? I guess I should figure this out now before she jolts out of the car.

“So…am I supposed to pick you up after school or what?” I ask, looking back over in her direction.

“Yeah that’s fine, just swing around the front of the building again. I’ll watch for you,” she replies getting ready to reach for the door handle.

“Ok, I’ll pick you up right here after I leave school,” I say motioning for her to get out of the car.

“Thanks Zar, see you later,” she replies and, with that, she jumps out of the car and walks her way up toward the school.

I briefly watch her as she walks toward the tall brick building. The same building that started it all and caused the fear and panic that’s running through my body right now.

I just hope she doesn’t have to go through that pain as well.

As I pull away, I try to think back to my first day of junior high, but I can’t. I think I’ve drowned out the memories of seventh grade. Either that or I’ve chosen to forget them.

Now it’s my turn to face the hell that awaits me when I get to school. This is my last year. I can’t wait until I can get the hell away from all of this; it’s almost become too much to bear.

I drive through town and look at all the shops, the people walking along the sidewalks and the places I’ll never miss once I leave town.

I’m stopped at a red light and take a moment to people watch. I see men, women and couples holding hands, smiling and laughing. They make it look so easy to be happy, but for some of us it’s a little bit more difficult. I don’t know if they can see the pain I feel or if they just see the darkness that consumes me.

One day, I want to look happy like they do but I fear the changes I may need to make to fit in with the rest of the world.

I hear the car behind me honk the horn and I glance in the rearview mirror.

The blaring sound sets my heart into frenzy from the noise of the horn. I quickly push onto the gas pedal and head straight toward the last place on earth I want to be right now.

I pull into the lower section of the school parking lot. Luckily, it’s still pretty empty and I can find a spot right up front. This will be helpful at the end of the day when I need to get in my car and get out before the rest of the school lets out from last period.

The past few years I’ve hidden for a reason. I’m one of the first in the building and make it a point to be one of the first to get out. The less attention that’s on me the better in my opinion and I can guarantee the haters feel the same way.

I get out of my black Volkswagen Beetle, courtesy of my parents, and walk up to the school building.

There’s a cool breeze in the air and my jet black hair whips around my pale face. Once I’m inside the building I take a moment to catch my breath. My heart is pounding and the level of anxiety rising in my chest has me winded. Yes, this is the first day of my senior year, but it’s also the first day of stepping one foot into hell. I know what’s going to happen, it’s my life and I’ve lived with the hate of my fellow classmates for the past five years.

I need to stay focused and make it to my locker before the swarms of students come into the school. The faster I can get to my locker and to homeroom, the quicker I can play invisible until the first bell rings.

As I enter the classroom that will be my homeroom for the year, I notice the room is still empty. I fidget in my seat waiting for the other students to find their way to an empty desk. Bile begins to burn the back of my throat and I hate that I feel sick. I need to steady my breathing before someone comes in and a panic attack consumes me.

I look down at my wrist and twist the delicate bracelet that sits on my left arm. Taking slow deep breaths, I feel my body begin to relax and my heart rate slow down. I situate myself in my chair and pull out my schedule for the year.

This is going to be a challenging two semesters for me with the classes I’ve chosen. Since I’m one of the top students in my class, I decided it’s best to push myself this last year and take on a few college prep courses. Not only will this look good for my application to Iowa State, but it will also help me get a jump start when I walk on campus next fall.

I look up and see a few people start to enter the room. Quickly I turn my gaze from them and back to the paper in my hands. I can see that the paper is shaking and my nerves are heading right back to where they were when I first sat down. I do my best to calm down, but the more people that come into the room the worse I feel.

The comments are already starting and I’m doing my best to block them out.

“She’s back for more; thank god it’s our last year,” a girl says.

“Yeah, I heard her parents sent her away for the summer because she’s too much of an embarrassment,” another girl replies.

“How is it possible she’s related to Zeke Evans, he’s a legend and she’s….a freak,” a guy chimes in.

“Who knows, maybe she’s adopted. I sure as hell wouldn’t want her as a sister,” the other girl replies.

As much as I try not to hear what they’re saying, I can’t. It’s as though the walls are closing in on me and there’s no room to escape. I can feel their eyes on me and the panic builds. Before I know it, I break out in a sweat and the bile is back in my throat.

I do my best to take my mind off of the situation and work on the breathing exercises I read about online. I begin to stare off into space until I feel calm and suddenly I’m snapped back to reality by the sound of the bell and Mrs. Davis standing in front of me.

“Zar, are you okay?” She asks placing her hand on mine for comfort.

I look up into her dull brown eyes and nod. In this moment I can’t even speak. I hate feeling like this. I don’t want them to make me feel like this anymore. I just want to get out of here and for all this pain to stop. It’s because of them that I’ve turned into this cold, lifeless person. They’ve pierced my soul and now I’m just an empty body that walks around in a cloud of darkness.

Excusing myself from my seat, I give Mrs. Davis a small smile and leave the classroom. Now that I’m already behind a few minutes for my first class I try my best to walk quickly through the halls. I hear their voices, the laughs and feel the bodies shove against me. I’m so used to their behavior, but it still stings to the core.

I make it to first period calculus and sit in the back right corner of the classroom. This is going to be an easy class for me so I don’t feel the need to sit up close. Math has always come effortlessly for me and this class is AP, which means it will count toward a few college credits.

The teacher begins the class by passing out our five pound text books and has us turn to an assignment in the first chapter. I glance down at the ten problems we are supposed to work on during the next forty-five minutes and smile to myself. This class is going to be a cake walk for me. This gives me hope to enjoy one thing about senior year.

The beginning to my first day in hell seems to be going by better than I thought it would. The only big drawback now is lunch period and the fear of everyone staring as I look for a place to sit. Since it’s somewhat of a warm day, I decide to sit outside under the giant birch tree with my apple and bottled water.

I look through some of the reading material I’ve received throughout the morning and can only wonder what possessed me to take on so many AP classes. This will be a year full of challenges, but I know it will be so worth it once I graduate.

The bell rings and it’s now time to move into my fun filled afternoon of classes. I stand up from the roots of the tree and brush off my black skirt and checkered tights. Making my way into the brick building, I focus on my destination and not the comments that surround me.

“Here comes grim,” a guy says with a laugh.

“Don’t get too close, she’ll pull you into the dark side,” another guy says.

“Dude I bet she’d be hot if she took off that shit,” the first guy comments while shoving his elbow into my back.

“Hell no, even if she’s an Evan’s, I won’t go near that shit, the second guy replies.

It never seems to end, but I have to brush their remarks off. I keep my head down and walk as quickly as I can to my next class.

For the rest of the day I continue to keep my mind focused on school while coming and going between my last three classes.

After the eighth period bell rings I rush out to the lower lot and get into my bug.

Taking a deep breath, I steady my nerves and feel grateful that today was not a total massacre.