Sam

It only takes that first class to decide that I hate history. The teacher is a boring, mean old hag named Mrs. Bork, who probably got so mean from several years of students making fun of her name. She constantly calls me Samantha, even after I told her just Sam is fine, and it makes me want to punch her in her ugly face.

To make matters worse, Callie Dunham is in my class, along with her whole stupid posse. Those girls have been bullying me since kindergarten, and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it because they manage to charm every single authority figure.

I tried to ignore their whispers and pay attention to the teacher as she went over the syllabus, but it's hard to concentrate when people are loudly gossiping about you just a table away. I had to pretend I didn't hear words like "ugly freak" and "dyke".

Hopefully biology will be better. Especially since I have it with Rose.

Unfortunately, Callie also has this class next, and she follows me, purposely stepping on the backs of my shoes the whole way there. Her friends get a kick out of it, laughing entirely too loud.

When I arrive, I can see that I won't be the only one having a hard time in biology class.

Rose has taken a seat way in the back, but Edgar Thompson already has his buddies ganging up on her.

Edgar is a tall, bulky kid with reddish blond hair cropped close to his meaty head, almost military style. One of mine and Rose's main tormenters since middle school, he seems to be especially talented at making new friends and convincing them to torture us as well. I'm not surprised to see that he already has brand new gang of idiots following him around.

"He can't even say anything," Edgar is saying. "Watch this. Hey! Hey Georgie! Come on, I'm talking to you, faggot!"

As usual, Rose is ignoring them. She stares straight ahead, even when she's hit in the head with an pencil.

"Come on little Georgie. Look at me! Fag!" He throws an eraser next, then a water bottle, and his friends laugh and start joining in. Where's the goddamn teacher?

I know that Rose doesn't like it when I defend her in public, but physical bullying is where I draw the line. I march straight to the back of the room and drag Edgar away from Rose's desk by the neck of his t-shirt. "Ow! Hey, quit it!" He whines as I pull him. What a wuss

"Back off if my brother," I say right in his face as soon as I've pulled him as far away from her as possible. "Or I'll kick the shit out of you. You know I've done it before."

All of his new friends snicker at that, and Edgar's face reddens. It may have only been one time back in the sixth grade- before he bulked up and grew a head taller than me- but I haven't let him forget it since.

"Got it?" is say through gritted teeth.

He rolls his eyes, clearly feigning confidence. "Sure, whatever. Bitch."

I raise my fist at him, and at that moment the teacher walks in from the hallway.

Of course, now he shows up. "Woah, what is going on in here?" He says.

"He was-" I start.

"Samantha started it, sir," Callie interrupts, lying so confidently you'd think it has really happened. "She has anger issues, and serious violent tendencies." The entire class giggles. Unsurprisingly, no one comes to my defense, even though they all saw what happened.

"That's a write-up," the teacher says, pointing a finger at me. "I don't tolerate bullying in my class, of any kind. And I expect more from young ladies, especially."

I don't know who I want to strangle more: Edgar Thompson, Callie Dunham, or that sexist dick of a teacher. Probably all three at once. But instead, I groan loudly and take my seat next to Rose in the back.

"Sorry," she whispers, once Mr. Dickhead starts with his introduction crap. "I would've spoken up, but-"

"I know," I grumble. "It wouldn't have mattered anyway. This entire room is full of our middle school bullies."

We spend the rest of class trying to ignore the whispers and giggles around us. Then the bell rings, and we have to separate yet again for third period.

I squeeze her hand. "You'll be okay," I whisper. Another one of our parting phrases.

"Thanks. You too."

Then, off to my third class: Gym.

I hate that Rose and I don't have the class together this year, but there are some perks to the situation. For one, I no longer have to pretend to be tough and uncaring, which I've always done to make her feel safe. It was starting to get pretty difficult.

I gulp as I enter the double doors to the gymnasium and am immediately directed to the dressing room by a stout woman with short brown hair and a serious case of RBF.

"Dress out!" She's calling out to the girls, pointing to their dressing room. Theirs. Not mine. But I have to use it anyway.

A thick wall of perfume hits me in the face as I enter the girl's locker room, and I hate it. I hate the incessant giggling and the loud gossip. I hate the girls who talk loudly about their periods, and insist on changing their bras as well as their clothes. But most of all, I hate that I have to undress in front of these people.

I set my bag by the locker farthest from the door. All of the bathroom stalls are taken, so I have no choice. I start to take off my shirt, but I find that it's like I physically can't. I can't expose my body like this. My stupid, freakish body. I suddenly feel my dysphoria start to kick in.

It gets worse every year. I can't do this anymore.

"Um, can I help you?" Somebody says to me, and I realize that I have been staring in the general direction of Kylie Donner for a little too long.

"Uh, no. Sorry. I was spacing out-"

"Eww, Samantha quit staring at my boobs!"

The whole locker room goes silent. Everyone is looking at me. My face burns, and to my horror, I feel the tears start to pool. Nope, I can't do this. Not again.

Without another thought, I run out of the locker room, away from the sounds of laughter and the air of my own humiliation.

------------

Rose

Third period English isn't as bad as biology, but still pretty bad. I'm not sure why Edgar and those other nimrods enjoy picking on me so much, because I never respond to them. Maybe they just see me as an easy target. Whatever the reason, it totally disproves the classic "if you ignore them they'll get bored and go away" philosophy.

Fourth period is history, which is alright since I have it with Kelsey. She at least shushes the guys who are teasing me, and I find myself feeling very fortunate to have Kelsey and Brianna as acquaintances. We don't hang out outside of school ever, and we don't sit together at lunch, but they're always there for me if we're in classes together. They prove that at least some people can be decent.

Back when I used to sit with Kelsey and Bri at lunch in middle school, they would always try to invite Sam to sit with us, but he would always refuse. I didn't blame him. For one thing, they called him Samantha, and for another, Sam just doesn't like girls. 

The only one he can stand being around for more than a couple minutes is me, and that's why I went back sitting with him at lunch instead. Kelsey and Bri said they understood, but I don't think they really did. Nevertheless, Sam takes priority over my other friends any day. He is, after all, my best friend.

When the bell rings for lunch, I head straight to the cafeteria to search for Sam. When I don't find him after a few moments, I shoot him a text.

Hey Sam. Where r u?

Fifteen minutes later, when I've gotten my lunch and chosen a table alone, he still hasn't answered. I start to seriously worry. I'm about to call him when I finally receive a text back. It's only two words long, but they're two of the most frightning words we know between us.

Code Red

That's all it takes for me to ditch my tray and race out of the lunchroom.