going to stop me,” I told him firmly. “I have to do this, Bosco. I promise it will be the last time.”
He looked at the knife.
“I know what I’m doing. It will make me feel better.”
The minute I sat on the bed and crossed my legs he leaped into my lap.
“Stop it, Bosco!”
I pushed him off and lined the knife up neatly under the first word. Bosco knocked the knife out of my hand as he clambered into my lap again.
“NO! Bad dog! I could have hurt you.”
I got off the bed and fetched the knife from the floor. Dropping down to sit there, I was for once grateful that Bosco was too cowardly to jump down from the bed by himself. I felt the same sense of relief when I made the first cut. I owned the word now. It didn’t own me.
When I was finished, I lay down on the bed and pulled Bosco into my arms, closing my eyes. Like meditative chanting, my leg throbbed with every beat of my heart. I fell asleep to the steady pulse of my own blood.
The next morning, I arrived at school to find a fresh coat of paint on my locker. Where SLUT had been the day before was a bright orange Post-it note telling me to go to Mr. Donleavy’s room. I sighed as I pulled off the note and shoved it in my jeans pocket. I liked Mr. Donleavy, and I did want a chance to redeem myself, but I was the school loser. Did he really think I could provide any guidance to a younger girl?
Mr. Donleavy was standing at his whiteboard writing his quote for the day. He was that kind of teacher. You could tell he didn’t teach because it was the only thing he could do. He really believed he was inspiring the world’s future leaders.
Today his quote was: “Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.” He added the author’s name, Leo Tolstoy.
“Did you choose that one just for me, Mr. Donleavy?”
“Grace!” He gave me a huge smile. “Trust me, there are plenty of people who need to remember Tolstoy’s wisdom, myself included. Have a seat and let’s go over our plan for today.”
I was pretty sure our plan meant his plan, but I was in no position to claim that I didn’t need help in the planning department. The desks in Mr. Donleavy’s classroom were arranged in a semicircle. I sat where I always did, nearest the door. Mr. Donleavy came over and perched on a desk nearby.
“I’ve made arrangements for us to go to the NGO this afternoon.”
My heart started to pound. “That fast?”
“We’re already almost four weeks into the term, Grace, and you still haven’t earned any community service hours.”
Fair point.
“Your parents have agreed that I’ll take you today after school. I’ve had another student volunteer so you’ll have some company. You need to be in the east parking lot by three forty-five.”
There wasn’t much left to say so I headed to class wondering who else had been roped into volunteering.
The rest of the day was relatively uneventful. I had only a few new hate messages on my phone, no doubt because I’d blocked virtually everyone. Unfortunately, it was a small school, and Madison was in most of my classes. I kept a low profile, something I used to be good at. Once, I accidentally caught her eye when I was leaving a class. She gave me a contemptuous look and whispered something to the girl next to her, but I kept walking as their laughter followed me.
In English, our teacher told us to get into groups to discuss a novel. As desks were shuffled and groups formed I found myself facing closed circles. It wasn’t the first time I’d been left out that year, but it was the first time it felt deliberate. The teacher, perhaps because she knew about my problems with Madison and Kelsey, directed me to join three boys. This occasioned a round of “slut” coughing. I’m not sure which one of us was most embarrassed. In any case, the boys ignored me and I stared out the window. I spent some time wondering how everyone would react if they came to school the next day to discover I’d killed myself. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t imagine anyone would care.
VJ turned up at my locker at the beginning of the lunch period. He was definitely committed to the