The school hallway buzzed with voices, sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. Racheal clutched her books tightly to her chest, her eyes lowered as if the linoleum tiles were the most interesting thing in the world. She knew what would happen if she dared to look up—she would see it again. The stares. The smirks. The whispers.
"Hey, can you move?" a girl's voice snapped behind her. Racheal quickly stepped aside, pressing herself against the lockers to let the group of girls pass. They didn't say thank you. They never did. She watched them walk away, their hair bouncing perfectly, their laughter spilling out like music she would never be part of.
Her best friend—well, supposed best friend—Melissa spotted her near the lockers. "Oh, Rach, hey," Melissa said, but her eyes were already darting toward the group ahead. "Um, I'll catch up with you later, okay? We're planning something."
Racheal forced a smile and nodded. "Sure. Later." She said it softly, knowing Melissa probably hadn't even heard her.
She wanted to tell herself she didn't care. That it didn't hurt. But as she walked to her next class, the familiar ache spread through her chest. I'm always the extra. The third wheel. The shadow.
In class, she tried to listen as the teacher explained equations on the board, but her thoughts drifted. Her notebook filled not with numbers but with doodles—tiny sketches of a girl on a stage, smiling, radiant, her body slim, her dress glittering. A crowd cheered her name.
She quickly closed the notebook when the boy in the next seat leaned over. His name was Jason—her quiet crush since sophomore year. "Hey," he whispered. "Do you have a spare pen?"
Her heart skipped. She dug into her bag and handed him one with a smile. "Here."
But Jason only muttered, "Thanks," and turned away before she could say more. He didn't notice the way her hands trembled slightly, or how her cheeks flushed pink.
When the bell rang, she lingered, pretending to fix her books, hoping maybe he'd say something else. But he just walked out, laughing with another girl who had perfect hair and a perfect laugh.
By lunchtime, the cafeteria felt like a battlefield. Racheal sat at the edge of Melissa's table, listening as her friends gossiped and giggled. She laughed when they laughed, even when the joke cut close to her heart.
"Ugh, can you imagine being, like, fat and broke? That's just sad," one girl said, wrinkling her nose.
The table erupted in laughter. Racheal laughed too, her throat burning as she forced the sound out. No one realized the joke had been aimed at her. Or maybe they did—and just didn't care.
She excused herself early, mumbling something about the bathroom. Once inside the stall, she locked the door and sat down, her chest rising and falling as tears welled up. She buried her face in her hands.
Why am I never enough?
For a long moment, she stayed there, letting the silence cradle her. Then, like always, her mind slipped away into the one place she felt safe: her dreams.
She imagined herself walking into this very cafeteria, but this time, heads turned. She was dazzling in a designer dress, her body slender, her hair flowing. Jason rose from his seat, eyes wide, as if he had been waiting his whole life for her. The girls who mocked her now whispered in awe, wishing they could be her.
Her lips curved in a smile at the thought. A smile no one could take from her.
The bell rang again, snapping her back to reality. She wiped her face quickly and left the stall. Her reflection in the mirror looked tired, her eyes puffy. But she straightened her shoulders, plastered the practiced smile back on, and walked out.
Because that's what she always did. Smile, even when it hurt.