Pregnant For My Bully

Amelia Forbes

I sat outside the principal’s office waiting for my turn to go in. I’d only ever been here once in my entire life. And that was when I’d been summoned to inform me of a scholarship I was eligible for.

And now I was here again. Summoned my Mr Redmey-my English teacher. I didn’t know what to expect so I waited.

I just wanted everything to move by quickly so I could go. I let out a breath, slumping deeper into the very uncomfortable lobby chair.

After a while of waiting, the office assistant walked out the door, her eyes roaming. There were about six students here-including me.

She paused to put on her glasses. “Amelia Forbes?” She asked, twirling a pen in her hand.

Slowly, I got to my feet. “That’s me,” I said, desperate for everything to be all over. This was not where I wanted to spend the rest of my day.

A curious look came over my face as I walked into the office. The principal, Mr Redmey, Mrs Sandra, and basically all my teachers sat in a circle discussing.

What have I done now?

“Oh Amelia, come in and have a seat,” Mr Redmey said as he sighted me. Wanting to be as far away from them as possible, I picked the last chair and lowered myself into it, waiting.

The principal shut the files he was buried in and spoke up.

“Forbes, to go straight to the point, we’re worried about you.” He gestured to the other teachers. “All of us.”

I had nothing to say so I kept quiet.

Mr Redmey picked up from there. “You’re an exceptional student, Amelia. But lately, your grades have been falling. So fast, it’s very worrying.”

Mrs Sandra nodded in agreement. “You’re a great student, Amelia. This isn’t like you.” She paused to let it sink in.

“So we wanted to know, if there’s anything wrong.”

My ears burned as I stared at a spot on the table. I’d began to underperform. My grades were dropping.

My grades.

The reason why I was still in school.

I tried to remember the last topic I’d learned in Mr Redmey’s class. I couldn’t.

“Your report from your project was badly written and you didn’t even submit the last three homework assignments you were given.” The principal said, peering at me through his tiny glasses.From NôvelDrama.Org.

Homework? We had homework? I had no idea.

I tried to recall being in class for the past two weeks, but everything was a blur. All I remember was seeing blood stained sheets and panicking when a group of guys walked past me.

I was failing.

It suddenly felt like weights were resting on my chest and I found it difficult to breathe.

I wanted to say something useful but I concentrated instead on controlling my breathing.

“Do you think extra classes would help?” Mr Redmey asked.

I shot him a glare. I’m not a freaking dummy.

But you’re becoming one, my mind said, poking me.

You’re becoming a dummy, Mel.

No. All of this. . . it’ll pass. I’m not dumb. . .

Seeing the expression on my face, Miss Sarah, the guidance counselor, said, “Or. . . if it’s an emotional issue, something you’re dealing with, you could always drop by my office and we could talk about it.”

I shook my head vigorously. The last thing I needed now was for someone to try and psycho evaluate me.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” I muttered, not even believing myself.

“If you say so, Forbes. But you gotta sit up because if this goes on for much longer, we’re gonna have to involve your grandmother.”

Tears bubbled in my throat. It’s not like she wasn’t disappointed in me already.

I only nodded. “Can I go now?”

The principal nodded.

Slowly I got up, walking away from the tense atmosphere and the look of worry on their faces. Although it was obvious that the only thing they were worried about was losing the recognition they would gain if a straight A student from their school won the scholarship.

I didn’t know where else to go as I walked out the office, so I retook my seat in the lobby slumping deeper this time.

I shut my eyes, waiting for time to pass by. Right now, I was too drained to go to class. I wasn’t sure if I could handle it.

“Bad grades, huh?” Someone said from beside me.

I gripped the sides of my chair in alarm-relaxing when I realized it was a girl-and looked up to see Dani Ryanne observing me curiously.

Wasn’t she in Kimberly’s gang? Yeah she was the famous school tomboy. I remembered seeing her at that party.

My eyebrows furrowed together. Please. The last thing I needed right now was Kimberly trying to play a prank on me.

I didn’t respond and instead slumped deeper into the chair.

“Didn’t you use to be like really smart or something?” She asked again, obviously not getting the sign I was throwing.

“How’s that any of your business?” I shot back. What was her problem?

She grimaced, raising her hands in surrender, showing the tattoos on her wrist. “Hey, hey, I’m not trying to poke into your business or anything. I’ve got bad grades too.”

I refrained from slapping my forehead and instead breathed deeply.

After I relaxed a little, I faced her. “Look. I know how this works. You overhear something bad about me, then pretend to be interested, feel sorry for me, make me believe that you truly care or that I’m making a new friend. Then you invite me to a party, or invite me to sit with you at lunch, where obviously it’s going to blow up in my face. You and your friends already have a great prank planned out for me. So when I get there you all pretend to be nice to me. . . then boom.”

I stared at her.

“So thanks, but I’m good. I’ve had enough pranks played on me to know this. I’m not in the mood.”

Feeling even more drained than when I first got here, I pulled myself to my feet and stalked off.