Rose Bridges

Forty seven

Carmen

"Nice socks and bow, slut," Ben mutters under his breath with a smirk as he walks past my desk and out the emptying classroom.

My back stiffens and I try to suppress the immediate reaction of wanting to cry and hit him.

Instead, I continue packing up my things at my desk.

They have something to say to me every time they see me. At debate club. In class. In the hallway. Everywhere.

It's exhausting, but I hold my ground.

So in the morning I tie my pink hair ribbon extra tight and tell myself how great I look.

And today I put on a pair of my white socks with little pink hearts everywhere, feeling rather good about myself.

And I refuse to let them ruin that for me anymore.

I like pink and girly things. I love pink and girly things. For some reason, that makes men mad, but so be it.

Pulling my bag over my shoulder, I'm about to walk out the classroom when suddenly Mr. Wright stops me.

"Carmen, may I have a word with you?"

I immediately freeze and look to him as he sits with his hands folded on his desk.

Taking a step back so I'm standing in front of him, I offer him a rather fake smile. "Of course."

His lips thin as he looks down to his computer screen. "Yesterday, one of the judges from the competition, Mrs. Jones, contacted me."

My eyebrows perk up and goosebumps form over my arms. What?

"Oh," is all I can muster out.

He looks to me boredly. "She stated she was impressed with your 'natural speech and convincing approaches.'"

It feels like the air has been removed from my lungs. Again, what?

"Well..." I begin. "That is very kind of her."

He purses his lips—looking like he wants to get this conversation over with—and hums. "She is a college scout who picks a few students occasionally at competitions." He picks up a pink sticky note on his desk and hands it to me. "She asked I give you her contact information and to reach her as soon as possible."

Looking down to the sticky note in his wrinkly hands, I slowly reach out and grab it.

I stare down at her name, email, and phone number written on it.

Looking back up to him, I smile, despite the look of blandness yet slight confusion on his face.

My shoulders naturally straighten and I can't help the subtle smile pulling onto my face.

Clearing my throat, I put the sticky note in my sweater pocket and smile fully at him. "Thank you Mr. Wright. Have a great day."

Turning back towards the door, I walk away with a growing smirk.

The pink ribbon tied in my hair saying: fuck you too sir.

The second I go into the library to eat lunch, I walk right up to Zara who sits watching her show on her phone.

Her eyes glance to me. "Hey babes."

"Zara," I stare, placing my hands on the table. "I'm going to shit myself."

Her eyes widen and she turns the phone off. "Woah woah somethings got you cursing this gotta be good."

"Oh it has potential to be good. Very. Very. good."