The Heart of a Feral- Part 1

In the words of my friend, Hailey, school is like a jail for kids. If I’m being honest, I have to agree. It’s not like I don’t enjoy learning, because I do, and my whole family is a bunch of nerds who like to watch Jeopardy! while screaming the answers at the top of their lungs. No, it’s not the school work. In the words of my Uncle Dan, it’s the people. Of course, it doesn’t help that my parents named me Lionne, French for lioness.

At least twice a day I will have people coming over to me and saying, “Hiiiii, Kitty!” and then laugh like they just said the funniest thing in the world. The worst part is that the teacher never even makes an effort to stop them! She sometimes even joins in! She encourages them to tease me!

At our lunch period, I sit with my one friend, Hailey. She has an “emotional opposition” to homework, and she usually doesn’t do it, but she somehow never gets in trouble. I didn’t love having Hailey as a friend. Now, I do adore her and she is the best friend anyone could ever ask for, but I feel so guilty that I dragged her into the bullying. Now they come up to her and say, with a snort, I might add, “Hey Lion Tamer! Don’t let the big bad kitty attack you!” But to be fair, in the end, they walk away far more bruised than when they walked over. Hailey puts them in their place.

I guess people call me a lioness but I feel more like a mouse. I wait and take the bait, ending up with my attack. I’m small without much courage, small and waiting for someone else to do the main job for me. I’m weak and it never works in my favor! People use me as a way to remove stress, and no, I don’t mean they rant to me. They attack me, but I have no strength to stop them. I’m the mouse under the lion’s claws.

My scraggly gold hair fans around my flat chest in bright waves that people like to pull on from time to time. I often jab my pencils behind my ears. Hailey often ends up needing one because she has a habit of writing hard. I have a greenish shade of hazel for my eyes that I wear contacts in. People often say I need makeup but I refuse to put that cakey paint on my face. I’m not beautiful but I won’t ever wear a mask of fakery because it’s not who I am. Plus, I don’t want acne and I don’t currently have a problem with it.

Author Notes: Look out for the more interesting parts!

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