Stealing Bradford

DJ tried to pay attention as Mrs. Devin, a teacher who looked like she should’ve retired in the last millennium, droned on about what their lucky class would study this semester. It sounded like a fairly boring overview of the literary works of people who had been dead and buried for centuries. DJ couldn’t even remember why she’d chosen this class in the first place—probably just to knock off one of her English requirements and make sure she could still have PE for seventh period (since that always made it easier for after-school sports). But if today was any sign of what was to come, DJ probably would’ve been better off in the back row because she really did feel like snoozing right now.

Instead, she began to daydream about Conner. But her daydreams were more tormented than enjoyable. And because she felt seriously worried that everything was over between them, she decided to pray. It wasn’t as if she thought she had God in her back pocket now, but she figured that he might be able to help her out some. At least she hoped so.

The morning continued uneventfully. In a way, that was something to be grateful for. Last spring, DJ had desperately wished for uneventful. She had longed to simply disappear into the woodwork, but instead she had seemed to stand out like she had a flashing neon sign strapped to her chest that said, “Pick on the new girl.” For some reason—maybe it was due to her makeover or Eliza’s friendship—that no longer seemed to be the case.

Unfortunately for Casey, the mean girls still needed a target. DJ hadn’t actually witnessed this yet, but right before fourth period, Taylor gave Eliza a detailed report. “You should’ve seen Casey’s face,” she told DJ, “when those girls—the self-appointed fashion police—started tearing into her about her wardrobe choices. Talk about brutal. I wasn’t sure if Casey was going to give it back to them or run. As it turned out, she just stood there and took it.” Naturally, DJ felt horrible for Casey, but perhaps the most disturbing thing was how Taylor seemed to enjoy relaying this pathetic little story.

“She actually got slammed up against the lockers then,” said Taylor. “Hit her head and everything.”

“That’s terrible,” said Eliza. “I hope she reported this.”

Taylor laughed. “Yeah, right. Then those girls would probably really tear into her.”

“Why did they do that?” demanded DJ.

Taylor rolled her eyes dramatically. “Why do you think they did that?”

“Because they’re just plain mean,” said Eliza.

“And because Casey is just plain begging for it,” said Taylor. “You can’t dress and act like that unless you want serious trouble. And she is definitely getting it.”

“Poor Casey,” said Eliza. “I wish we could do an intervention.”

“A fashion intervention,” said Taylor as the three of them went into US History together.

They’d barely sat down when Mr. Myers began taking roll. DJ tried not to worry about Casey, but Taylor’s awful story of Casey slammed up against the lockers kept replaying through her mind. Despite the abuse DJ took last year, nothing like that had ever happened to her. Aside from the fact that it must be completely humiliating to be treated like that, what if this bullying continued or got worse? What if Casey got seriously hurt? Finally, DJ took Rhiannon’s advice again. Instead of worrying obsessively about Casey, DJ prayed for her. She prayed that God would do an intervention. Maybe something like what had happened to her just last night. It was hard to believe that scene on the beach had occurred less than 24 hours ago. But she was thankful for it just the same.

After history, the girls headed to the commons. “Let’s put our stuff on that table,” instructed Eliza as they entered the commons. “Then we can get some lunch.”

“If there’s lunch worth getting.” Taylor flopped her bag onto a chair and scowled. “I think I’ll ask Clara to pack me a lunch tomorrow.”

Then the three of them went over to get in the lunch line. Eliza spotted Kriti coming into the commons and waved to her, pointing out the table they had just reserved. But just as Kriti was placing her bag on the round table, a couple of girls that DJ remembered from last year approached her. They pointed angrily at the table, and although DJ couldn’t hear them, she could tell they were saying something mean.

“Look.” DJ nudged Eliza then pointed toward the table. “I think those girls are giving Kriti a hard time.”

“Why don’t you go rescue our Indian princess,” teased Taylor.

“Maybe I will,” DJ shot back at her.

“I’ll save your place,” said Eliza.

DJ wished that Eliza had offered to accompany her instead, but she headed back to the table anyway.

“You don’t look old enough to be in high school,” said Madison Dormont to Kriti. This was one of the same girls who had picked on DJ last spring. “What are you, like twelve or something?”

“Maybe she’s a child genius,” teased the other girl, Tina Clark, another foul-mouthed mean girl.

“What’s the matter?” said Madison. “No speakee English?”