disgraced. Her shoulders were slumped and I wasn’t positive, but it looked like she was crying.
Turning away, I took a deep breath and went inside.
The entire school was called to an emergency assembly in the gym and the students of Bamfield Elementary were lectured about bullying and warned of the consequences.
The principal was furious. “Whoever’s responsible for this disgraceful behavior should come forward now.”
Thankfully, Goldie remained silent.
With an irritated huff, the principal eyed the room. “If any of you know who is responsible, you know where to find me. I expect a name by the end of the day.” His expression darkened. “The culprit will be severely reprimanded.”
For the rest of the day, I chewed my fingernails and anxiously waited for Goldie to be dragged out of class. I was sure she’d be sent home with a detention.
Strangely enough, nobody turned her in.
What surprised me most was that not even Annie mentioned Goldie’s involvement, even though she’d been questioned for over half an hour. She returned to class later that day and passed by me without a second glance.
Part of me felt sorry for Annie.
Part of me feared what she would do next.
The day passed uneventfully. After school, Goldie and I raced to the crowded bus stop to wait for the bus. As it groaned to a halt in front of us, I pulled her aside.
“ Was it you?” I whispered.
Her eyes caught mine. “Does it really matter who did it?”
I was silent for a moment.
“ No. It doesn’t matter at all.”
We climbed aboard the bus, sat down in our usual seats and hardly said a word to each other during the ride home. When the bus reached the entrance to my driveway, I mumbled a quick goodbye and hopped down the steps. The road to my house seemed never-ending and I trudged along, dragging my feet in the sand and gravel.
That’s when I realized something.
I was ashamed of what Goldie had done to Annie on my behalf. I was mortified that I was the cause of someone’s public humiliation. The guilt ate at me.
Until I remembered the bug-infested chocolate bar.
Then the rage set in.
“ You’re awfully quiet tonight,” my father said during supper. “What’s up, Sarah?”
Pushing my cold mashed potatoes to one side of my plate, I looked at him. My eyes burned with the need to tell him how much I hated living in Bamfield, how much I hated school and how mean everyone was―everyone except Goldie. I yearned to tell him about Annie and the horrible things that she had done to me.
I opened my mouth to speak. But nothing came out.
“ Sarah?” my father repeated. “Are you―?”
“ Can I be excused, Dad? I don’t feel so good.”
“ Of course.”
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when I jumped to my feet and rushed upstairs to my room. Closing the bedroom door behind me, I threw myself down on my bed.
“ I hate it here,” I sobbed. “And I hate Annie.”
I grabbed my pillow and flung it against the door. My face was wet and my throat felt like a fiery furnace. It was hard to be quiet when what I really wanted to do was bawl and scream.
I thought of Annie and my blood boiled. How would I survive three years of being the white kid ? How would I endure the malevolent spitefulness of Annie Pierce?
My hatred of her was so intense that I longed to lash out at her, to hurt her physically. I envisioned revenge. My own sweet revenge. I couldn’t allow Goldie to be my savior forever, to be there for me every time Annie decided to be cruel. I needed to be strong, to defend myself. I wanted to overcome my fear of her. I just didn’t know how.
I curled up on my bed, depressed and angry, plotting all the vengeful things I would do to Annie. I don’t know how much time passed before there was a soft knock on the door.
“ Sarah?”
The bed sagged as my mother sat on the edge of the mattress.
“ Are you okay, honey?”
Her voice cracked a bit and I sensed her sadness.
“ Do you want to talk about
Turning away, I took a deep breath and went inside.
The entire school was called to an emergency assembly in the gym and the students of Bamfield Elementary were lectured about bullying and warned of the consequences.
The principal was furious. “Whoever’s responsible for this disgraceful behavior should come forward now.”
Thankfully, Goldie remained silent.
With an irritated huff, the principal eyed the room. “If any of you know who is responsible, you know where to find me. I expect a name by the end of the day.” His expression darkened. “The culprit will be severely reprimanded.”
For the rest of the day, I chewed my fingernails and anxiously waited for Goldie to be dragged out of class. I was sure she’d be sent home with a detention.
Strangely enough, nobody turned her in.
What surprised me most was that not even Annie mentioned Goldie’s involvement, even though she’d been questioned for over half an hour. She returned to class later that day and passed by me without a second glance.
Part of me felt sorry for Annie.
Part of me feared what she would do next.
The day passed uneventfully. After school, Goldie and I raced to the crowded bus stop to wait for the bus. As it groaned to a halt in front of us, I pulled her aside.
“ Was it you?” I whispered.
Her eyes caught mine. “Does it really matter who did it?”
I was silent for a moment.
“ No. It doesn’t matter at all.”
We climbed aboard the bus, sat down in our usual seats and hardly said a word to each other during the ride home. When the bus reached the entrance to my driveway, I mumbled a quick goodbye and hopped down the steps. The road to my house seemed never-ending and I trudged along, dragging my feet in the sand and gravel.
That’s when I realized something.
I was ashamed of what Goldie had done to Annie on my behalf. I was mortified that I was the cause of someone’s public humiliation. The guilt ate at me.
Until I remembered the bug-infested chocolate bar.
Then the rage set in.
“ You’re awfully quiet tonight,” my father said during supper. “What’s up, Sarah?”
Pushing my cold mashed potatoes to one side of my plate, I looked at him. My eyes burned with the need to tell him how much I hated living in Bamfield, how much I hated school and how mean everyone was―everyone except Goldie. I yearned to tell him about Annie and the horrible things that she had done to me.
I opened my mouth to speak. But nothing came out.
“ Sarah?” my father repeated. “Are you―?”
“ Can I be excused, Dad? I don’t feel so good.”
“ Of course.”
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when I jumped to my feet and rushed upstairs to my room. Closing the bedroom door behind me, I threw myself down on my bed.
“ I hate it here,” I sobbed. “And I hate Annie.”
I grabbed my pillow and flung it against the door. My face was wet and my throat felt like a fiery furnace. It was hard to be quiet when what I really wanted to do was bawl and scream.
I thought of Annie and my blood boiled. How would I survive three years of being the white kid ? How would I endure the malevolent spitefulness of Annie Pierce?
My hatred of her was so intense that I longed to lash out at her, to hurt her physically. I envisioned revenge. My own sweet revenge. I couldn’t allow Goldie to be my savior forever, to be there for me every time Annie decided to be cruel. I needed to be strong, to defend myself. I wanted to overcome my fear of her. I just didn’t know how.
I curled up on my bed, depressed and angry, plotting all the vengeful things I would do to Annie. I don’t know how much time passed before there was a soft knock on the door.
“ Sarah?”
The bed sagged as my mother sat on the edge of the mattress.
“ Are you okay, honey?”
Her voice cracked a bit and I sensed her sadness.
“ Do you want to talk about
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