Alyssa's Army

“Wow, I’ve never seen you eat before. I didn’t think you did.” Alyssa and her ‘cult’ (they honestly might as well be) had stopped by the empty table I was sitting at in our high school’s cafeteria. Alyssa reveled in her cliche mean girl speeches; like, at least have some originality. This part had been redone countless times in all of the movies and television shows. Alyssa was absolutely breathtaking; her shiny blonde hair always cascaded perfectly over her shoulders. But she was vindictive and, to me, all of that beauty had faded away due to that fact. It’s unfortunate how a lot of pretty peoples’ insides don’t match their outsides. It’s also unfortunate how quick people are to not only make snap judgments but to voice them. It’s insane how many people there are out there who say whatever is on their mind—they really go out and choose to bring people down. I never understood why people like Alyssa would put so much emphasis on appearance. I’ve realized that high school is a breeding ground for those kinds of people. And I genuinely hate those kinds of people.

The fork full of rich chocolate cake provided by Brenda the lunch lady halted at my mouth as I glanced up meekly at Alyssa and her clan. I carefully eyed each of them up and down, wondering if I would ever be like them. Afterall, I was only a freshman and they were seniors. But had I really wanted to be like them? Heartless and demeaning? Condescending? Don’t get me wrong—I wasn’t the typical unpopular girl that movies have always loved to portray. I don’t know why people always portray things in such a black and white manner. I was thin and relatively good looking. I liked fashion and makeup, just like Alyssa. But I never experienced the ‘skinny privilege’ that others always talked about. Instead, all I had undergone was a constant barrage of comments about my petite frame since I was young, making me feel like a zoo animal being gawked at in a cage. I had always been smaller than everyone else and everyone constantly pointed it out. I could hardly meet anyone without receiving a rude, body-shaming comment. And the worst part was, most people would scoff in my face as if I was being dramatic when I tried to tell them about it. I’ve never received the compliments that other skinny girls like Alyssa and her friends did.

“Hello, freak?” Alyssa waved her freshly manicured hand in my face as her friends giggled and echoed her mannerisms, flicking their shiny, long and perfectly waved hair over their shoulders and exchanging judgmental glances. I could have sworn they were robots...or maybe clones that Alyssa made. She was definitely the type of person who needed validation and acceptance from anyone and everyone. Alyssa didn’t have friends; she had worshippers.

“Why are you just staring at us?” she continued. “Damn. Use your words.” I laughed awkwardly and placed my fork on my plate. I was never good at dealing with conflict or defending myself. On the other end, I would start to feel an angry, defensive fire in my chest. And if I defended myself, I didn’t hold back because it was finally me snapping. And that’s exactly what had happened on that specific day, right in the middle of my school’s cafeteria.

Before I knew it, my emotions had taken over and the words flowed out of me. Afterall, I was a writer; the one thing I was good at was words...most of the time. “I thought you liked people staring at you since you thrive on attention and validation from others. Oh and, actually, Uh-lis-uh, not that it’s any of your business, but I’m literally just naturally skinny. I know that that’s not a familiar concept to you.” Audible gasps and ‘Oohs’ filled the cafeteria. It was true. I had what was called a fast metabolism, which seemed to be a concept that so many people were either unaware of or ignorant about. And getting comments about your weight and assumptions that you don’t eat when you legitimately alternated between McDonalds, Taco Bell and Wendys was highly frustrating. Anyone would snap after being a pushover for so many years.

I took a deep breath and continued. “Just say that you’re jealous that I can eat this entire piece of chocolate cake and not gain a single pound and go.” At this point, my voice was shaking—but it was loud. I didn’t like resorting to petty insults. Soon, other students in the cafeteria started glancing our way, curious and ready to witness the next school fight of the week. One guy even stood up with his fist in the air and shouted, “The girls are fighting!” The cafeteria erupted into laughter and all eyes were on us at this point. My heart was racing and rage consumed me; I hated this but I knew I needed to say something. During situations of conflict, I went into fight or flight mode and essentially blacked out.

Alyssa was stunned and clearly taken aback.

“Wow, the girl who always has something to say is speechless?” I eyed her minions. “You guys have nothing to say either? Oh yeah, that’s right. Every move you guys make is a copy of Alyssa’s. How does it feel to have no identity?” I turned back to Alyssa, standing up with my plate in my hands. “And how does it feel to be the most shallow bitch that anyone’s ever met?”

With that, I threw my flimsy, styrofoam plate into the trash and stormed out into the hallway. I may have said all the right words and been the one student at West Marshall High School to finally silence Alyssa after her reign of terror for the past four years, but I hated conflict beyond belief. I flung open the bathroom door, grateful that it was seemingly empty. Time for a cringy, self-motivational pep talk.

“Come on, Ava. Get your shit together. You can’t keep letting rude people get to you. It’s not your fault that they’re ignorant,” I said to my reflection in the mirror as I placed two fists on the sink. It was hard, though. I’ve always had this obsession with trying to get people to understand me and I hated feeling misunderstood. Either I would awkwardly laugh it off in order to avoid awkward conflict or I would over explain myself and ultimately feel mentally drained at the end of the day. Today, however, I found a middleground and it felt so damn good.

Suddenly, one of the bathroom stalls hurled open and someone very unexpected walked out. Alyssa’s former best friend, Mara Vinewand, was standing before me, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Do you always talk to yourself in the school bathroom? You realize how crazy you look, right?” Mara was a self-procaimed e-girl (hey, she labeled herself...not me), adorned with heavy eyeliner, dark lipstick, hot pink hair and piercings. Her outfit included lots of black, chains hanging off of her high-waisted skirt and fishnets. How she got away with that outfit with the ridiculous dress code, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because she terrified everyone, including Principal Harmon. He didn’t really reprimand anyone there, anyway. I’m pretty sure he stayed in his office all day because I never even saw him. Anyway, Mara was one of those people who was extremely sure of herself. Although she was only a junior in highschool, she had the mindset of a well established adult.

“Maybe I am crazy. Whatever,” I responded pointedly, looking at her through the mirror without even bothering to turn around.

She crossed her arms and sat down on the sink, eyeing me with curiosity. “What did I miss?”

I sighed. “Two words. Alyssa’s. Army.”

Mara rolled her eyes. “Typical. Cafeteria?”

Mara always hung out in the bathroom during lunchtime. I had no idea what she did in here. She wasn’t necessarily a loner, though. She had a group of friends just like Alyssa did. But she definitely valued being alone.

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“Because all of the drama happens in the cafeteria. Kids know no one really monitors second lunch and it’s not like Brenda is gonna do anything.”

I cracked a smile for the first time all day. “Hey, I could totally see Brenda throwing a few punches. Don’t underestimate the lunch ladies.” I hoisted myself up next to Mara, brushing off the fuzz from my leggings.

She let out a small laugh. I’ve never heard her laugh before. “Hey, if anyone knows Alyssa, it’s gonna be me. We were best friends, remember? She’s just an insecure, fake girl. Don’t let her get to you.”

“Thanks,” I said, nodding. “It’s just annoying that people make assumptions about skinny girls. I know that people probably think that sounds dumb, but we get body-shamed too and it sucks.” I looked down at my long, dark hair, picking at my split ends anxiously. “I just don’t understand why people don’t realize that there are naturally small people who can eat all the cheeseburgers in the world and not gain weight. I mean, it’s really not that hard to understand.”

It was weird because my personality was a complete paradox. One side of me was nice and easy going while the opposing side was hostile, defensive and agitated. Is that the case for everyone? Probably, because like I said earlier, nothing is black or white in this world. There are complexities to everything.

“Nah, I get it. People are dumb. You just have to ignore them. You can’t get annoyed at every rude comment because there will be a lot and everyone’s just rude. I mean, everyone gets them,” Mara said.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just take it personally.”

Mara shifted her body towards me. “You know how people say that you need to defend yourself every single time someone disrespects you? I don’t agree with that. I think that’s stupid. It shows more strength to let it go and not give anyone’s words power.”

I processed Mara’s words for a moment. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”

Suddenly, the bell rang, indicating lunch was over. A few kids started piling into the bathroom and Mara and I walked out into the hallway.

A sinister look passed over Mara’s face.

I furrowed my brows, confused. “What?” I asked.

Mara smiled—the kind of smile someone has when they have a secret or a plan. “I know that I just gave an entire speech on ignoring people. But Alyssa’s different. She’s a Grade A Bitch. She’s going down.”

“What? How would we even do that? Alyssa’s literally the Regina George of this school.”

“Have you forgotten that I was friends with Alyssa since we were six years old all the way up until my freshman year? I know everything about her. I have the upperhand.”

Just then, Alyssa and her clique walked past us before coming to an abrupt stop.

Alyssa turned around on her Miu Miu heels, a condescending smile plastered on her face. I could see the shine of her highlight and lip gloss as she approached me.

She put her mouth right up to my ear. “It’s not over.” And then she walked away, her sidekicks giving me snide glances over their shoulders as their heels clicked down the hallway in unison. Damn, those shoes are loud.

Mara nodded at me. “She’s right. It’s not over. It’s only just the beginning.”

“How are we gonna take down the richest, most popular girls in the school? They might be evil incarnate but the entire school is obsessed with them,” I asked, rubbing my temples.

Mara said matter-of-factly, “Alyssa and her army might have most of the school under their bitchy spells, but not the whole school. We’ve got this. She might have an army, but we do too.”