(Names are changed, stories are at least 80-85% real (or at least how I remember them) ** 

.... 

"You know, you're such a bitch." 

"Excuse me? What?" 

I looked back from the book in front of me to the girl sitting on my left side.  She was giving me the stink eye and eyeing me up and down.  

"You heard me." 

"I'm sorry, but we don't even know each other that well to... for you to be calling me names. I'm not understanding." I shut my book and turned in my seat to face her. “Care to explain why you just called me that?” 

Janice, all of thirteen, threw her head back and laughed. Shaking her head, she gave her friends a look, and pointed at me with her thumb. “See this ho? She really be actin’ all innocent and shit, as if she wasn’t such a bitch.” 

I frowned. “Okay, but like, what the hell? I really am not understanding why you keep calling me that.” It was confusing as hell. Why would this girl who I didn’t have any particular friendship with—we just happened to share the same homeroom period—keep calling me names and speaking so sure of what she kept commenting. 

“They really do say that the ones who act all innocent are the worst ones.” Janice scoffed at me before turning back to her group of friends who all mumbled and muttered their agreement as they gave me a look. 

“What the hell was that?” 

I turned back to my friend who was had come to stand in front of me. She glanced over to the other group of girls who were busy cackling about something else. Occasionally, they would glance over at us before going back to giggling amongst themselves. 

“I have no idea. She just called me a ‘bitch’ out of nowhere and decided to say a bunch of stuff that makes no sense to me,” I explained. I felt a little hurt inside, mostly because no one had ever had a problem with me, and I had never had a problem with anyone to make them call me out like she had. “Did something happen? Did I miss something?” 

Rosa made a face and turned back to me, taking the seat in front of mine. “No. When do you ever do something to piss anyone off. That Janice is ridiculous, and she knows it,” Rosa finished a little louder for the girls to hear. All that Janice did was flip her off. 

“You’re going to make her mad, Rosa!” I hissed at her because Janice had a bad reputation of bullying people. Rosa was tall, loud, and a bit outspoken. The youngest of five kids, the other four who were boys, she had learned to be tough and hold her own ground. 

“Like I give a shit.”  

“I just don’t understand. I wish I did.” 

“Yeah, but who’s going to understand that psycho. I wouldn’t break my head over it,” Rosa concluded as she began pulling out her notebooks. “Now, can you help me with this homework? I didn’t finish half of it because I didn’t understand it. You're so good at this, I figured you could explain it to me.” 

“Alright, I guess.” 

“Hey! What the hell, Marco?” 

Marco, a boy that I had known since elementary school, turned back to me and waved the juice box he’d taken from my lunch tray. 

“Or what? Are you going to bitch about it?” 

“What?” 

“I’m not going to be a pussy about it, though. Give me your best shot, Kitty Kat!” he smirked as he waved the box in the air towards me. Heart pounding, I shook my head at him. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about... I am so confused. What the hell are you guys going on about now?” 

“Caty! Come sit down!”  

Rosa waved at me from another table where our group of friends sat. Judging from their questions, I must have had a sad expression on my face because they began questioning me on what was wrong. 

“Did you run into stupid Janice again?” Rosa asked as I shook my head at her.  

“No. It was... it was Marco. He took my juice box, then asked me whether I would start bitching at him about it. What is going on with people today?” I asked, swallowing hard. The lump in my throat aching and my eyes starting to sting, I glanced down at my sad little chicken sandwich and fries—the proper school lunch of 2004.  

“It’s because you dumped Thomas.” That was from Josh, one of our friends. He was sitting the table next to us with some of the other guys from the soccer team. I trusted Josh, because he had always been a peaceful and respectful guy with me. He had never given me reason to mistrust him in all the years that I had known him. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“A couple of us guys ran into Thomas hanging out behind the gym on Friday,” Josh started, and I watched as some of the guys nodded, “He didn’t look to great.” 

“W-what do you mean?” I asked, fear and dread settling in the pit of my stomach. Friday was the day that I had broken things off with Thomas. Our on and off relationship had to simply come to an end because it never seemed to go anywhere and all we ever did was argue.  

“But what does breaking up with him have to do with Janice calling me a bitch and Marco insinuating it?” 

“Because, uh, he—” 

“Shut up, foo!” 

“That’s none of my business.” 

“Josh?” The other girls were staring at him in question, too. 

He sighed, lifted his glasses off his face, rubbed his eyes, and then looked back down at me. 

“Josh?” I asked again, because I was starting to get nervous.  

“He was sitting there on a bench by himself and he...” Josh frowned, “He had rolled up his sleeves, you know how he wears those long sleeves all the time—he had them rolled up and he was, uh, cuttinghimself.” 

“What...” 

“He was cutting himself,” Mario added from behind Josh. He made a slashing motion with one hand on his opposite wrist. “Cut cut, with a blade.” 

I felt like throwing up. 

“But what does that have to do with me?” I asked softly because it didn’t make sense. My head was starting to hurt. I didn’t understand but it made me feel sick to my stomach. 

“People think that he was cutting himself because you broke his heart,” Mario explained. “You know? With the whole dating, breaking up, dating and breaking up again, I guess people think that you’re playing with him?” 

“But I am not playing with him. What does, how... You know what, no... I refuse to believe this. Thomas is too smart for that. Why would he do such a thing?” 

“Heartbroken?” 

“Mario, shut up man.”  

“I don’t know, she asked. I’m just saying. Jeez.” Mario turned back to his group of friends, leaving Josh shaking his head at him. He turned back to me and sighed once more. 

“Look, Caty, guys are dumb. People have their reasons. I know you like Thomas and you have your reasons for breaking things off as well. I’m not here to judge you, but maybe you should talk to him and see if he’s okay? I personally don’t think you’re the reason that he’s acting like that. If you haven’t noticed, he’s been wearing long sleeve shirts since we met him two years ago. This is not new. What if he has been doing this for a while now, since before we met him?” 

Rosa came over to my side and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Maybe Josh is right. You should go talk to him and see if it’s something that can be helped. It can’t hurt you.” 

“But it does hurt me,” I started, eyes watery once more. “People are talking behind my back, and it’s probably for good reason. What if I hurt his feelings, what if it’s my fault?” 

“Go talk to him. Set things straight. That’s my best advice,” Josh told me before he turned to his friends once more. 

“I’m such an idiot, Rosa,” I sniffled. “What if I did hurt him?” 

“What if it’s not your fault? You won’t know if you don’t ask.” 

“I guess...”  

I don’t remember the taste of my chicken sandwich, or remember if I ate it entirely, but I do remember the confusion in my heart and the dread in my stomach at the thought I had led someone to do such a thing to themselves. 

.. 

“Thomas! Thomas!” 

Thomas, tall and lanky, hair falling over one of his eyes stopped in his tracks and looked back at me. There was confusion in his eyes, hesitation at seeing me running towards him, but he waited for me, nonetheless. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

We stood there awkwardly before he spoke up again. “Did you need something?” 

“I have something to ask you—” 

“I’m not going back with you again.” 

“I— what? No. NOT that.” I ran a hand through my hair desperately. Should I just come out and say it? Should I be straight forward and ask him what was wrong? I wasn’t the most tactful person. 

“So then?” 

I motioned for him to go sit with me on the small wall in front of parking lot.  

“I wanted to ask you... I wanted to... there’s a situation happening where people have started calling me names. Because they think I hurt you and led you to...” Thomas frowned but said nothing, waiting for me to go on. “They’re saying it’s my fault that you... you c-cut yourself,” I finished in a whisper. 

Thomas stopped, hardness coming over his eyes as he looked away from me. 

“Who told you that?” 

“Janice called me a bitch this morning. Marco said the same thing. And two other people have told me that they saw you do it... Is it true? Are you really cutting yourself, Thomas?” Please, don’t do it. Why would you do it? 

Was it my fault? 

“I am. It’s true.” My heart sank all the way down to my feet and beyond. “But it’s not because of you, though.” 

My eyes sprang back up to him. “What?” 

“I’m not cutting myself because you hurt me.” With a shrug he added. “I’m actually okay with us breaking up. I don’t think that friends should date each other, we’re a perfect example that stuff like that doesn’t work out.” 

“Then, may I ask why you’re doing it?” 

Thomas dropped his head and stared at his hands on his lap. 

“Things are happening at home,” he started, and I waited. “My father he—I hate him.” 

“What? Why?” 

“He cheats on my mom. He has a girlfriend on the side. I know because one time when my mom was at work—mind you, this was when I was about five or six—he was supposed to be babysitting me. He took me with him to this one woman’s house. She greeted him, hugging him and then kissed him as well. I didn’t understand why she did that, I'd only seen him do that to my mom. He took me to the side afterwards and told me I better keep that a secret because my mom would be mad at him. That it would be my fault if she got mad at him. I didn’t understand what was going on, but I knew that it was wrong.” 

He clenched his fists tightly. 

“I accidentally mentioned my dad’s ‘friend’ in front of my Mom and they started arguing. I felt horrible, thinking that it was my fault, and I remember crying and begging them to stop fighting. When she went to work the next day, he had the same woman come over to our house. OUR house, Caty. He locked me in the closet and then I could hear him laughing at me, could hear HER laughing as well. He called me a pussy, a wimp, he called me a ‘fag’ and said that he would leave me there until I learned to not tattle tell on people—to mind my own business. I was a kid, I was scared of the dark. It was so dark in there.” 

I stared in silence. Heart pounding, I reached over and took his hand. 

“I don’t think it’s fair that he’s done this to you.” 

“He still yells at me. Still calls me a ‘fag’ and says that I'm an embarrassment.” 

“But you’re not. Why would he say that? Don’t listen to him, Thomas.” 

“It’s because I don’t like sports. You know the music I like, and this hairstyle is too ‘street/useless’ to him. He tells me that I wear women jeans and that I'm acting like a little bitch all the time. I almost got into a fist fight with him over it, but my mom stepped in. He got mad at her, said it was her fault I was such a pussy and left the house. He's been gone since Thursday, and we don’t know when he’s coming back. I don’t think my mom wants him back, though.” 

“I’m so sorry, Thomas!” I said, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m so sorry. I feel a little bad because had I known about all this, I wouldn’t have gotten into an argument with you either...” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“I know, but...” 

“No buts.” He shrugged again. “We just weren’t meant to be together is all. We tried, but it didn’t work out. Maybe it was with good reason.” 

“Yes. I suppose. I apologize either way. I don’t want to lose you as my friend, though, Thomas.” 

“I think you’re a great friend, Caty.” 

“Friends?” 

“Still friends.” 

Thomas gave my hand a squeeze and gave me a crooked smile. One of those with which I had initially fallen in love with him at eleven. 

. 

I lost contact with Thomas during high school when he went to a different school from the one our friends attended. Every now and then I would hear my other friends speak about him, about what he was up to. He was still doing good, he seemed to be thriving and making friends. I don’t know if he continued to cut himself, but during the time that we spent together in junior high he had stopped.  

The rumor that I had hurt him and caused him to cut himself disappeared as quickly as it had come on. I graduated valedictorian of our class and moved on to high school ready to tackle new challenges. 

As well as heartbreaks. 

It’s been almost sixteen years since I last saw him, but occasionally, I wonder how he’s doing.  

About five years ago, I’d found out by chance that he’d come out as gay. A quick Instagram search showed that he’d been dating other guys for a while, he seemed happy. He was smiling. He was living. 

He hadn’t heard from his father anymore, and his parents had finally divorced.  

He's now a thirty old human being living his best life out there. 

Being himself. 

Being free.

And yet, he will always have a little piece of my heart, the piece he’d earned back in 2002 when we first met.