Papers rustled and hushed voices whispered through the lecture hall. The main door quietly glided open as the last student hurried in. She tried to find a seat in the crowded auditorium. Finding a seat in the very back wasn’t going to happen that day, so she had to sit closer to the middle of the room. From previous encounters, she knew to keep to herself. She tried to get to an open seat without an incident, but no such luck; they tore into her like a pack of wolves, never letting up.
“Loser!”
“Burn in hell!”
“No one wants you here!”
“Why would anyone want to be your friend?”
“What’s wrong with you?”
The insults kept coming, and she ducked her head so her hair covered her tears. She kept walking, comments spewing left and right. Thinking as she went, Well, soon I won’t be here for you to harass anymore; so don’t worry; the “loser” won’t be around much longer.
A sweet voice broke into her thoughts. “Hey,” the voice said. “You can sit by me. I mean, if you want to.”
“Thank you,” the girl mouthed back.
“My name is Jennah,” the voice said.
“Spencer,” the girl said back.
The guest speaker walked up to the podium right then. All the high school seniors’ voices quieted. The guest speaker projected on the big screen a power point depicting the lecture’s topic manner. And of all the topics that could be picked, it was the one foremost in Spencer’s mind.
“Suicide is the third leading cause of death for the ages 15-24. Teens who fit into this category who commit this act usually have feelings of depression and worthlessness…”
Spencer blocked the rest of the lecture out, as she had been doing to everything else lately. What’s this guy really know? He’s just spewing out general facts. Like he really knows what it feels like. She crossed her arms and retreated into herself. A piece of paper flew in her direction and landed in her lap. It said, “You shouldn’t heed his advice, and go kill yourself.” Spencer tore up the paper and willed the lecture to end sooner.
When she was able to leave the hall, she was met by a pack of students who were laughing and throwing crumpled paper at her.
“’Sup, loser?”
“How you going to do it?”
“Hey reject, nice lecture, huh?”
“Feeling worthless, yet?”
Spencer pushed passed her judgers and ran to the bathroom to get away from the scrutiny. Jennah, who had watched the scene take place, told off the pack and sprinted after Spencer. Jennah stepped into the bathroom and looked at the door. She heard the shuddering tears emanating from the stall.
“Spencer,” she crooned. “Open the door, please.”
There was no response.
“Spencer,” she pleaded. “Open up.”
Again, there was no response.
“Look, Spencer, you can choose to stay holed up in there, but you aren’t getting rid of me easily. You are going to listen to me.”
The door creaked open, and Spencer came out, eyes puffy and face red. Jennah wiped away the rest of her tears and took hold of her shoulders as she told Spencer her story. “My best friend committed suicide for the same things you are thinking about it. The kids at school made fun of her and harassed her for no reason, and she had no clue as to why. I know because you are acting in the same manner as she did—pulling away from everyone and everything, dressing like you don’t care anymore, hiding from the problem. Don’t listen to those guys. What they say doesn’t mean anything. They just need to make you feel bad because they need to feel better about their crappy lives. I know it’s hard, but your life means so much more than their comments. Heed my advice and don’t listen to them. Don’t listen to the ones who attack you and prey on the misfortune of others. C’mon, let’s get you out of here.”
Spencer followed Jennah out of the building while trying to ignore the pack that just wouldn’t leave her alone. As she pushed open the double doors, the leader barked, “Just go jump off a bridge.”
Spencer took off into the unpredicted thunderstorm, her feet slapping against the wet pavement. Jennah rushed after her, calling her name. Spencer just ran that much harder. She hurled herself into her car and snapped it into reverse. In the rearview mirror, she saw Jennah chasing after the car. Tears streamed down her face as she threw the car into gear. She pumped the accelerator and, tires squealing, sped away. With her vision blurred and rain pouring down in buckets, Spencer could hardly see two feet in front of her car. Her shuddering sobs echoed all the pain and the hurt she had been experiencing that past few months.
She was acting on impulse, going where the car was taking her, driving with no set destination in mind. Her knuckles became stock white from gripping onto the leather wheel for dear life. She drove for what seemed like hours to her, but in actuality was only a few minutes. As she drifted through town, her emotions continued to get the best of her. I can’t handle this anymore. What the hell did I do to these people to deserve this? But, I guess I do deserve it. Most of the things they say about me are true. The tears chased each other down her cheeks as the shuddering turned to heaving.
Why do I even give a damn what they think? Why do I let them say those things to me? Why don’t I stand up for myself? Why am I starting to believe them? Spencer pounded the steering wheel with her fist.
Ferociously, she grasped the wheel and skidded through a right turn. She edged the car a little faster. [The wipers squeaking and shedding away the sky’s tears as fast as her heart was racing.] The road she was traveling was deserted; there wasn’t another car in sight, though visibility was a problem in the storm. Deciding her next move, she parked her car on the side of the highway and climbed out into the thunderous downpour. Her clothes were soaked instantly. Slowly and carefully, she placed her hand on the car and dragged it around until she made it to the front of her green, beat up, old Buick. Steadily, she stepped up onto the sidewalk and walked to the cylinder metal railing. Leaning over the side, she could see the traffic speeding along the highway. Taking a breath and leaning back, her mind flashbacked to all the names she had been called. [All the bullying she had been experiencing in the last six months.] [All the times she was called worthless.] All the times flashed by in her mind in a manner of minutes. No one would even miss me, she thought.
The coldness and dampness of her clothes caused tremors to pass through her body. Her internal shaking was more imminent to her than anything. She wrapped her fingers around the top steely rung. She began to push herself up to put her feet on the concrete wall. Spencer was about to hook her boots beneath the two cylinders when Jennah parked her car, slammed the door, and sprinted to the front of Spencer’s car.
“Don’t do this,” she called through the rain.
Spencer put both of her feet on the concrete, boots hooked.
“Please,” Jennah begged.
A bolt of lightning tore through the sky, illuminating the entire overpass. As it struck, Spencer glanced back at her, tears mingling with the rain on her face. Fear was apparent on her face. Spencer turned back facing the highway, preparing to jump. While she was bending her knees, Spencer felt arms enclosing around her waist. Jennah pulled her down to the sidewalk; Spencer fell into her arms.
Jennah whispered words to calm Spencer down. Spencer took a few calming swallows of breath. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for saving me.”
Putting her hands on Spencer’s upper arms, she said, “I couldn’t let someone else I care about do something I could have prevented the last time it happened. The viciousness of those wolves wasn’t worth your life, and I know if you left, you were meant to be missed by many.”
This time instead of tears of sadness, tears of joy flowed from Spencer’s eyes as she smiled for the first time in months.