The classroom smelled faintly of chalk dust and old carpet, but somehow, it never masked the tension in the air. She slid into her seat near the back, careful not to draw attention, though she knew it would come anyway. Her fake friends were already there, their laughter too bright, too rehearsed, curling around her ears like smoke she couldn't escape.
"Hey, there she is," one of them said, loud enough for the others to hear, a mock warmth in their voice that made her stomach twist. She forced a smile, the kind that never reached her eyes, nodding just enough to seem grateful for their acknowledgment.
From across the room, whispers slithered like snakes between the desks. She could feel them, even if she didn't catch the words at first. Then, she heard it—the subtle, cruel rhythm of voices speaking just behind her back, careful not to be seen.
"Ugh… does she even shower?"
"She always smells… like… I don't even know."
"She's so… gross."
Each word landed in her chest like a stone. She wanted to turn around, to face them, to tell them it wasn't true—or maybe to tell them it was and watch them regret it—but her body stayed still. Her hands gripped the edge of the desk so tightly the knuckles turned white.
Her fake friends leaned closer, whispering something she didn't want to hear, their faces curling into secret smiles. She knew they were talking about her too, pretending to be allies while secretly carrying daggers behind her back. The betrayal stung more than the words themselves.
The teacher's voice droned on about equations she didn't care about, but she couldn't focus. She kept hearing the whispers, feeling the eyes grazing her back like tiny pinpricks. Every movement she made felt exaggerated, every blink noticed, every breath judged. She imagined herself shrinking, folding in on herself until she was nothing but a shadow beneath the fluorescent lights.
When the bell finally rang, relief washed over her—not because the class ended, but because she could escape their eyes, their whispers, and the suffocating weight of pretending. She walked out into the hallway, shoulders hunched, pretending nothing had happened, though the memory of every cruel word clung to her like a second skin.