Priyanka shuddered as she walked down the school hallway. Shadows taunting her like fish on a bait, kids lurking, smelling.

She was used to bieng new, she had been moving all her life. From India to China to Poland and finally to the place she hated the most. New York City.

Someone suddenly shoved her from behind,

“Move you pig” a girl sneered as she knocked down my books. She took my steel water bottle, looking at the fresh ink of a sharpie sizzle into the post it note her mother had set on it.

“Have the best day and don’t forgot to make friends, love you priyanka XO Mom” the girl read out loud, her face marked with disgust. I looked at my shoes, my face heating up with embarrassment.

“Aww is piggy priyanka having trouble making friends” she mocked, wheezing from laughter. She opened the the bottle, sniffing the fresh nimbu pani her mother had made before she left. She took a step forward to me. Her tall slim frame shadowing over me, a smirk lifting the corner of her mouth.

“Next time don’t be slow” she whispered in my ear, dumping the liquid on my head. I felt the cold juice soak into my newly ironed shirt, the dampness biting my skin. I felt my hair drip of moisture, the strands matting together, sticking to the back of my hair. I heared the loud sound of metal colliding to the floor, but I couldn’t move. All I could see was red, dark red. I was sourrounded by it, but I could still hear her voice. It taunting my every move. I felt my head tighten as I felt my eyes water, letting out a scream, at least I thought I did as I collapsed, thick tears running down my face. But no one cared. No one even acknowledged my existence, or thought, or feeling. The rotten disgust of humility on my tounge, the sour taste of anger branded on my heart. Because all I was, was new meat. I had been chopped, but the bone was too big, I was thrown In the trash, but not given a chance. But then I hear a new voice, a deep tone surround me whole m. I use the back of my hand to wipe my eyes, shakily rising to face the new sign. My eyes adjust to the light as I look to see who it is.

“Girl Scouts?” The man said questionably a hopeful smile on his face, not acknowledging that I was soaked with water, or that I was crying on the floor. I took the flyer his hand contained, looking at the bright words before me. “Have a Jolly time and make new friends!” It said, the bright words sounding inviting. I look at the sign up paper on the large bulletin board, probed up on the wall. I sign up. I officially hate this school.