“H-how are you?” I stumbled through an easy question and jammed my hands into my pockets, thumbing the baggie of weed.
“I hope you’re happy,” she threatened.

“I am,” I said, rocking back on my heels.

A girl with very big hair bumped into Cyd. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“What?! Jesus! Cyd.”

She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. She wouldn’t hit me. Would she?

I took a tentative step back. “She’s the one texting ‘stfu’ and ‘fuck you’,” I pionted out.

“Because you hurt her!” she leaned towards me, “Do you think she says those things because she’s angry at you?! She says those as she cries herself to sleep in hopes that you’ll finally stop.”

“I didn’t even do anything.” I look at the ground with new interest.

Little hands slammed me against the sharp lockers. “You did everything!,” she screamed. A teacher started towards us. “It’s the little things, Charlie, that you forget, hurt her the most. Just leave her alone, alright?”

And with that, she turned and ran.