Chapter One

‘…you don’t have to suffer in silence’

From the moment I walk through the school gates at 8.50am, right up to 3.30pm when I walk out them again, I am almost entirely invisible I say almost because the only people that can apparently see me are the other kids in my year that ‘accidentally’ barge into me, and the teachers whose classes I have not completed homework for.

I just exist to be yelled at by my parents, lectured by teachers, trampled over by other students and used like a rag doll by them. I am of no importance. I am meaningless, a waste of space, that’s taking up valuable oxygen.

‘That was very well written, Madeline.’

I look up, just remembering that I am sitting in English, and Mrs Evans is handing back our essays. She’s the only teacher that doesn’t yell at me, though I suppose that’s because I never skip her lessons and I nearly always do my homework. English and Art are the only classes that I have not given up on. The rest are all a waste of time. I wish my timetable consisted of only Art and English, that way I might not daydream so much.

I don’t say anything. Not that Mrs Evans expects me to, as I look at my paper. A small smile forms on my lips. I can show my parents this, then maybe I will be ungrounded for Friday night.

Mrs Evans, as usual, is disappointed with the effort with most of the class because none of them tried on their essays. We had to write a piece of fictional writing, and got the choice of ten different subjects. I wrote five pages, front and back, about a boy whose friends have started to bully this girl that he used to be best friends with. It ends with the boy telling his friends to bugger off and he goes off with the girl.

At the end of the lesson, I am the last one out. It isn’t a surprise, I’m nearly always last because somehow, my bag that I put under my desk at the beginning of the lesson ends up getting kicked to the opposite class or put in the bin. Once I couldn’t find it for a week and got yelled at lots. It turned up in the hockey field. No prizes for guessing how that happened.

‘Madeline?’ Mrs Evans says, smiling sympathetically as she holds up my bag, ‘It was under my desk.’ There are sniggers amongst a couple of pupils making their way out of the class room. Mrs Evans raises an eyebrow and they rush out the door.

‘Thanks.’ I say as I walk over to her desk and she hands me it. I shrug the straps onto my shoulders. I want to get away, out the door before she says anything else but before I can make a dash for the door she says, ‘Your essay was very mature sounding for someone of your age,’ I wonder if this is her away of accusing me of cheating, ‘I could tell you were writing from experience in some parts.’

She pauses but I don’t say anything. Once she realizes that my mouth is staying firmly shut, she continues.

‘I just wanted to say that you don’t have to suffer in silence, if there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m always here to listen.’

I nod my head, swallow and force myself to talk, ‘Thank you. But I’m fine, really.’

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ she says, ‘you better get going to your next class anyway.’

It takes a lot for me not to run straight out the door.