Chapter Text
Lunch break was coming to an end. Kokoro was heading toward her classroom, where she was scheduled to have her next class. Other students were moving around her in different directions, laughing and chatting. Just as she was about to turn toward the classroom door, something caught her attention. A group of girls was standing against the wall on the other side of the hallway. She knew them well; after all, they were the most popular girls in school. Their distinctive blonde hair and heavy makeup always spelled trouble. The girls were looking at her, smiling and whispering to each other. Kokoro felt a knot forming in her stomach. She looked down at her clothes, wondering if something was wrong with her appearance, but she didn’t notice anything unusual. She walked into the classroom and immediately sensed the tension in the air rising. A few people sitting at their desks suddenly fell silent and turned toward her. Some nervously scanned the classroom, while others watched her with excited smiles. She felt a chill come over her and goosebumps rise on her arms. She looked down at her cheap sneakers and set off, weaving her way between the desks.
When she reached her seat, everything became clear. Fear and sadness paralysed her from head to toes as she stood motionless next to her desk. Her feet were glued to the floor, refusing to move. She couldn’t do anything, only staring helplessly at the scribbled wood. She began to read the words written there one by one in her head: “Kill yourself,” “Stinking slut,” “Nobody wants you here.” Thoughts raced through her head like crazy; she felt as if the ground were crumbling beneath her feet and her whole world were collapsing, swallowing her up with it.
She didn't even hear the bell ring, and all the students took their seats. A moment later, the teacher entered the classroom. And she was no ordinary teacher. Ms. Shinomiya would not tolerate even the slightest bit of disobedience.
- Miss Momoiro, why haven’t you taken your seat yet? - her cruel gaze shot through Kokoro like a bullet.
- I-I… - she began, but couldn’t find the right words, as if all the words had flown out of her head.
- Well, look at that. And you’ve scribbled on your desk, too? Go clean it up right now!
- I-it’s not like that…
- I don’t care about your pathetic excuses; that desk has to shine! — those words completely froze the girl. She stood there unable to move, as if her legs had refused to obey her.
- What are you waiting for? Wasn’t I clear enough? You’re going to clean up right now, and after class, you’ll explain your behavior in the principal’s office! - the teacher declared.
Kokoro kept her eyes locked on the floor as she made her way toward the classroom door. She could feel all the students’ eyes on her back. She stepped out the door and was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when she spotted a group of popular girls. She swallowed the lump in her throat and walked down the hallway toward the bathroom, desperately avoiding looking in their direction, when suddenly she felt someone’s leg hook her lower leg and a hand push her back. A moment later, she was lying on the floor at the feet of the blond girls.
- Watch out, it’s easy to slip in shoes like those - one of them said with a sneering smile, and her friends joined in with laughter. She heard the sound of a camera shutter, and then the group of girls walked off in the opposite direction.
Kokoro felt herself turning bright red, and her eyes began to sting as tears filled them. She immediately got up and walked quickly to the bathroom to get some water and a cloth to wipe down her desk.
★☆★
Kokoro opened the door to the apartment. She immediately heard her mother’s voice coming from the kitchen:
- Hi, sweetie, how was your day?
- Mom... - she took a few steps toward her, and her mother looked up from the pot, studying her daughter closely. - Could I change schools?
★☆★
She stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom. For a few moments, she stared at the person reflected in the mirror. Her brown, dull hair fell over her shoulders without forming any particular shape. A red headband sat perched on top of her head. On her pale complexion, she could see every imperfection. Suddenly, she spotted her mother’s hair bleach sitting on the sink, along with some pink hair dye. Next to them lay an eyeshadow palette and other makeup accessories. She began frantically searching through the drawers. She found several bottles of nail polish, a curling iron, and tanning lotion. She smiled to herself. A plan began to take shape in her mind.