I met my friend, Amita, minutes before the bus arrived. She had been off school for the past few days, so I was glad to have her back.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have other friends, quite the contrary actually. I had a pretty large friendship circle and we all hung out together often. Even so, everything felt easier around Amita; words became more fluid. I felt less like every move I made was being picked apart and I would be chastised later by the girls who say they are my friends. I know it sounds kinda petty, but it’s difficult being popular. You never know who your real friends are.

Amita had been my friend since primary school. She’d always been well-liked, and enjoyed attention. Who could blame a girl wanting people to see her? To know her?

She’s remarkably pretty; high cheek bones, hooked nose, full coral lips, glowing brown skin. It was no surprise boys obsessed over her, girls the same. But she was more than just pretty, she was true. She was my best friend.

I was lost without her.

I hated each day when she was away, waited each morning for her to arrive. I know it was pitiful, I was pitiful, but sometimes you just cling to that one person and can’t untie your arms.

It wasn’t just that though. I had to mingle with the other popular kids. I didn’t know how to engage in conversation with them; it seemed so awkward and forced. Sure they were my friends, but they weren’t like Amita. They weren’t… nice?

Most days were unremarkable. All but one.

Tuesday 22 March.

An English lesson has passed in a blur of new old vocabulary and angsty renaissance poets, which led me to break time.

I sat on the massive conjoined table we had assembled at the beginning of the year. The group was mostly the same, some people lost along the away, some gained.

Opposite me was Aubrey. She could be civil, if she liked you. Usually she was unremarkably nice to me and Amita, as we kept to ourselves and occasionally made witty remarks but never at her expense. It was nice to have a familiar voice in the haze of noise that seemed to be the lunch hall.

“So, where’s your pretty little friend?” She giggled, “Still not in? God you must be soooo lonely.”

“Yeah I guess, but I mean there’s other people to talk to.” I tried to sound more willing than I felt to converse.

She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, “Sure but your not usually very chatty unless Amita is with you.”

“I can get on fine by myself.” I lied, though I knew my distress was visible at every query or joke or advance made towards me.

“Alright,” Aubrey huffed, giving in.

Then everything happened all at once.

There was a grunt and then a crash and a plethora of gasps and…

Someone had drenched me in water. My hair was inundated, my jeans soaked. I gazed horrified at the girl apologising infront of me, at the boys cackling across the table, the girls trying to hide there sniggers.

“She looks like she peed herself!” Called one of the guys, laughing hysterically.

“At least her hair finally got a wash,” giggled one of the girls too loudly.

Everybody was laughing. Everybody was staring.

I felt my body temperature rise. It was impossible to tell what was water and what was sweat.

I don’t want to be here. Make them stop laughing. I can’t do this. It’s too loud. It’s too hot. It too much. There all looking at me. Stop looking at me. I am not a joke. Stop laughing. Please just go back to silently judging me. I can’t do this. It’s too much. It’s too much. Wheres Amita. I need my friend.

So many thoughts.

I wanted the ground to swallow me. I wanted the wind to steal me away. I wanted the noise to shatter me or the heat to kill me.

But I just stood up, drenched and dripping. There was no sympathy in the world. No pity, no justice. They laughed with pain behind there eyes. They mocked me to hide there own mistakes, to make them feel big.

All the same, I wanted to disappear.

The laughing died in their throats. It turned to confusion to horror and back full circle.

The look on their faces was priceless, when I disappeared.