'I Don't Tell Tales': An Update on Sophie's Story

Today is the day I catch up with that elusive #NaNoWriMo par line: I can feel it in my bones. šŸ˜‰ I'm starting off strong with this 2,037-word piece about Sophie's struggles with her former best friend Jessie. I will do more writing tonight, which will hopefully push me over the line again. It's hard to believe that this whole thing will end on Friday! šŸ˜®

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Our lunch break has just ended. Thank God. Iā€™ve been sitting by myself the whole time: finishing off homework and trying to look like Iā€™m really busy, so I donā€™t seem like too much of a loser. These days, I am a loser, though. Thereā€™s no denying it. After everything Yvonne has said, no one wants to hang out with me, no one wants to be my friend ā€¦ itā€™s been a couple of weeks since I had anyone to sit with at lunch. Jessie always goes into Ms Creedonā€™s Sixth Class room, to chat to Yvonne and the others. I donā€™t even want to imagine what they could all be saying about meā€¦

Well. I donā€™t have to imagine it. Yvonne sent me a screenshot a couple of days ago: it was from a conversation between her and Shaun. Shaun going on and on about how horrible I was for not turning up to our date and not even telling him I couldnā€™t go and then not replying to any of his messages. Then a second screenshot, where Shaun was saying stuff like youā€™re a way better kisser than she is, anyway. She couldnā€™t wait to let me know that sheā€™s the one going out with him now, I guess.

Yvonne is horrible. Why did Jessie have to make friends with her? Why did she have to start copying everything she does? I just donā€™t get it.

We have Maths next, which is going to be so much fun. Not. Ms Delaney has just come back in to our room and sheā€™s telling us to get our books ready. I reach behind my seat, into my bag, and start pulling out my Maths bookā€¦

Next thing I know, my lap is soaked: my bottle has been tipped over and thereā€™s apple juice everywhere, spreading all over my desk and dripping down onto my lap, my chair, the floorā€¦ I look around, going ā€˜oh my God, what theā€¦?ā€™ and see Jessie on the way back to her seat, with a little smirk on her face. My eyes fill with tears. She must have done it.

I quickly pick up the bottle ā€“ thereā€™s only, like, a few drops left in it by now ā€“ then I stand up and yell out, ā€˜Miss? Jessie just spilled my apple juice all over me.ā€™

Ms Delaney frowns at me, then at Jessie, who turns around and looks at my desk, then puts on the most fake ā€˜shockedā€™ face Iā€™ve ever seen. Itā€™s ridiculousā€¦

ā€˜Oh no! It was an accident, Miss,ā€™ she says in a really upset tone of voice, with her eyes all wide. Trying to act like sheā€™s so sorry about it.

ā€˜No it wasnā€™t,ā€™ I insist. Iā€™m trying to squeeze some of the juice out of my skirt now. Itā€™s totally ruined ā€“ Iā€™ll have to put it straight in the laundry basket when I go home. ā€˜She spilled it on purpose!ā€™

ā€˜I didnā€™t!ā€™ Jessie yells.

ā€˜You totally did, Jessie, and you know it ā€“ā€™

ā€˜Girls! That is quite enough,ā€™ Ms Delaney cuts in, then sighs. ā€˜Jessie, whether it was an accident or not, you should apologise to Sophie. And you can both get tissues from the bathroom and wipe this up. Go onā€¦ā€™

Jessie stands there staring at me for a second, looking so pissed off, then spits out, ā€˜sorry.ā€™

ā€˜Now get some tissues, go on,ā€™ Ms Delaney tells us.

Our bathroom is around the corner, in an alcove behind the main classroom. As soon as weā€™re in there, out of Miss Delaneyā€™s sight, Jessie whispers, ā€˜you just couldnā€™t wait to tell tales on me, could you? Bitch.ā€™

ā€˜Youā€™re the bitch,ā€™ I whisper back furiously as I grab a load of paper towels. ā€˜Acting like you were so innocent, the second she saw what youā€™d done ā€¦ you make me sick.ā€™ I never used to think me and Jessie would end up speaking to each other like this, but now ā€¦ I donā€™t even care anymore. If sheā€™s going to be horrible to me, Iā€™ll be horrible to her too. Itā€™s as simple as that.

Jessie glares at me, but Iā€™ve already begun to leave, so thereā€™s nothing else she can say.

I get back to my desk and begin to wipe up the juice. I feel like I might explode ā€“ Iā€™m so angry ā€“ but thereā€™s nothing I can do about that right now. Jessie appears a few seconds later ā€“ she drops a load of tissues onto my desk, then begins to walk away ā€“ but Miss Delaney sees her and decides sheā€™s not having it.

ā€˜Jessie, donā€™t just dump the tissues on her desk!ā€™ she barks. ā€˜Help her clean up that mess.ā€™

Jessie goes all rigid and tense ā€“ I can see her clenching her fists ā€“ but she doesnā€™t want to risk getting into trouble with Miss Delaney, so she trudges back over to me, all resentful. The rest of the class is staring at us now. Itā€™s so embarrassing. We stand as far away from each other as possible while weā€™re wiping up the juice. I donā€™t want my hand brushing against hers or anything. I would prefer it if she didnā€™t help me, to be honest. Iā€™m sick of the sight of her.

ā€˜Okay, everyone,ā€™ Ms Delaney announces to everyone, ā€˜turn to page 113. Weā€™re going to revise long division today ā€¦ I hope you all got your homework done. Yes, SĆ­ofra?ā€™

ā€˜I forgot mine, Missā€¦ā€™

As soon as the juice is gone from my desk and chair, Jessie storms back to her own desk (causing everyone to stare at her, and then me, yet again) and Iā€™m left to wipe up the juice on the floor by myself. Ms Delaney frowns at me and Jessie, but she continues on with the class regardless.

As I go to the bin to put away the tissues, I still feel as though all eyes are on me. I want the ground to swallow me whole right now ā€¦ and itā€™s all Jessieā€™s fault. I want to burst into tears, but I donā€™t. I sit back down at my desk and open my book and try to forget about the whole thing.

Jessie was always the one who was really good at Maths, not me. I never seem to understand numbers in the same way she does, and she used to help me with them whenever I was really stuck ā€¦ but these days, I have to try and figure it all out on my own. Letā€™s just say it hasnā€™t been going well.

Ms Delaney has just given us ten problems from our textbook to work out, while she goes around to each of us and sees what we might need help with. Iā€™m trying my best to figure out these problems ā€“ I donā€™t want to make a total fool of myself ā€“ but I know Iā€™m getting them horribly wrong. I just know it.

Iā€™m sitting at the very back of the room, so I do manage to finish them by the time Ms Delaney comes around to me ā€¦ but I know I havenā€™t done them well. When she comes around to check my work, she looks over them with this really concerned expression on her face, then quietly tells me I only got 2 out of 10 right.

I find myself wanting to cry all over again. Whenever stuff like has happened in the past, I used to be able to tell Jessie. She would sympathise and try to help me, but if she saw what Iā€™d done now, I bet sheā€™d laugh her ass off and then tell Yvonne and the others just how stupid I am.

ā€˜Sorry, Miss,ā€™ I mutter, blinking away tears. Sheā€™s looking at me like sheā€™s really concerned now, and itā€™s all just so embarrassing, I canā€™t take it. As Iā€™m looking away from her, I bring my hands up to my eyes ā€“ to wipe them ā€“ and for a second, I catch sight of Jessie staring at me from across the room. Sheā€™s probably loving this. And she probably got 10 out of 10 too.

ā€˜Listen, Sophie,ā€™ Ms Delaney whispers to me, ā€˜after class has ended, can you stay behind for a few minutes to chat to me?ā€™

ā€˜Okay, Miss.ā€™

ā€˜Good,ā€™ she says, then stands up and makes her way back to the front of the room: probably to explain long division, yet again, to stupid people like me who just donā€™t get it. She wonā€™t say that, though ā€“ sheā€™ll act like sheā€™s explaining it again for everyoneā€™s benefit. ā€˜Okay, class, letā€™s go over this one more timeā€¦ā€™

Iā€™m dreading the end of class. I donā€™t want to tell her whatā€™s going on. Iā€™d rather die. I guess Jessieā€™s remark about how I just couldnā€™t wait to tell tales on her has gotten to me a bit. Iā€™m not normally a tattler. Iā€™m really not! I guess I was just so angry after the apple juice thing, I wasnā€™t thinking straightā€¦

When the time comes to go up to her, and everyone else in the class is leaving the room, I stand in front of her desk with my arms folded and my chin jutted in the air. If I tough it out and act like nothingā€™s wrong, hopefully sheā€™ll believe me.

ā€˜Sophie,ā€™she says, ā€˜I wanted to ask you, is everything alright? Yourself and Jessie used to be best friends and now youā€™re all the way over at the other side of the room.ā€™

ā€˜Itā€™s nothing, Miss.ā€™

ā€˜Are you absolutely sure about that, Sophie?ā€™

ā€˜Yeah.ā€™

ā€˜Is there something going on at home? I know things have been tough with your family lately, and your dad did ask me to let him know how you were doing in school ā€“ā€™

I panic at this: no way can she tell my dad about this. No way. ā€˜Oh no, Miss,ā€™ I blurt out quickly. ā€˜Thereā€™s no need to say anything my dad. Really. Me and Jessie just ā€¦ we just thought weā€™d try sitting in different places for a change. Itā€™s good for friends to, um, have personal space from each other sometimes, you know?ā€™

Oh God, what am I even talking about? Ms Delaneyā€™s eyebrows go really far up her forehead when she hears this. ā€˜Personal space,ā€™ she repeats sceptically.

ā€˜Yeah.ā€™ I know my face must be so red right now, but I have to try and keep it as blank as possible. I wonā€™t tell tales.

She stares at me for a few moment, then sighs ā€“ I guess she knows that she canā€™t drag it out of me. ā€™Alright. But I do hope you know, Sophie, that if there were some kind of problem going on, you could always come to me.ā€™

ā€˜Sure. Yep. I should go now. My dad will be wondering where I am. Bye, Miss.ā€™

I rush out of there before she can say anything else to me. The cringe factor is just too much to take right now.

Dad is waiting in the car, with Luke in the front passenger seat beside him. He absolutely loves it when he gets to sit in the front, and often gloats when he beats me to it. It normally annoys me, but today, Iā€™m way happier being in the back seat. The further back I am ā€“ the further out of Dadā€™s sight ā€“ the better. I donā€™t want him realising that anything weird is going on. As I open the door and climb into the back, he turns around and smiles at me.

ā€˜Hello, Soph! How was school?ā€™

ā€˜Hi, Dad. Hi, Luke. Yeah, it was good.ā€™

As Dad starts up the car, I put my earphones in, plug them into my phone, and start searching for music to listen to.

I donā€™t tell tales.

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You can do it!!! that was a strong start!

Much love to you!

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