Mean girl_A dark, disturbing psychological thriller

by Natasha A. Salnikova

  MEAN GIRL

  by

  Natasha A. Salnikova

  Copyright © Natasha A. Salnikova 2015

  Kindle Edition

  Blurb

  Corby Mackentile is a fifteen-year-old girl who attends a private school. She has been bullied because of her weight since she was twelve, especially by the most popular girls. Her parents—her mother is a TV anchor and her father is a Buddhist who owns a butcher shop—are too busy with their own problems to pay attention to their only daughter. Corby has a crush on one of the most popular boys in school. He makes fun of her once, but then unexpectedly apologizes. From that moment, her situation with three of the popular girls becomes worse. Then, one day, one of the girls who had bullied Corby comes to the butcher shop where Corby works for her father after school. Again, the girl teases Corby about her weight, but this time everything is different.

  TOC

  Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30, Chapter 31, Chapter 32, Chapter 33, Chapter 34, Chapter 35, Chapter 36, Chapter 37, Chapter 38, Chapter 39, Chapter 40, Chapter 41, Chapter 42, Chapter 43, Chapter 44, Chapter 45, Epilogue, Author’s FB page, More books from the author

  CHAPTER 1

  Something hit the back of her head, and then a crumpled piece of paper rolled across the desk and fell to the floor. Someone chuckled behind Corby’s back and, as always, Mrs. Gullen didn’t notice or didn’t want to see. She always ignored the fact that the other kids in school didn’t like the best student in her class, Corby Mackentile. They didn’t like her in spite of her achievements and the fact she’d been labeled as “gifted.” At fifteen years old, Corby guessed it had happened in part because of her mother, an anchor at a local Boston TV news station. Mother answered all of Corby’s complaints with one statement—they were all just jealous. The main reason was Corby’s weight. She was a big girl when she was born, but when most kids began losing their baby fat with age, Corby gained more. She was overweight and tall. One of those kids you see on TV shows like America’s in Danger or Overweight America or in competitions like The Biggest Loser. Her classmates often advised her to try the last one. They also told her that fruit and vegetables “didn’t kill nobody” and she should try to eat some, not just meat. They told her that exercise was a fat person’s best friend.

  Mother tried putting her on different diets suitable for children, but Corby never lost weight. Of course it was difficult to lose weight when Mother’s “trying” to put her on a diet consisted only of words rather than actual control of what was put on their table and specifically on her daughter’s plate. The daughter ate everything she was served without arguing with her mother or trying to lose weight. She couldn’t stop eating her favorite foods voluntarily. She couldn’t give up pizza, pasta, and sweets. Without those, there would be no reason to live.

  She didn’t have problems in elementary school and was always surrounded by friends. Sometimes she was even the life of the party. She enjoyed amusing her friends, organizing games, and helping with homework. She was always invited to birthday parties and her mom wrote at least ten invitations to Corby’s own birthday party. The problems began in middle school and intensified in high school with the arrival of a beautiful girl named Jane, who once called Corby a box of meat and refused to talk to her. When it happened the first time, Corby was taken aback and began to cry. One of her friends, who moved with her parents to another state a year later, asked Corby why she didn’t say anything and Corby said she didn’t want to be rude. That was true. Also true was the fact that she was afraid. Nobody had ever called her names before and she had never had to stand up for herself. Then it became the norm and it seemed that children started to forget Corby was their friend and that she was happy. Even Corby began to forget. It was as if friendships and happiness had never existed. Later, Jane became one of the most popular girls in their school and Corby had to sit at the back of the room and keep her mouth shut in order to avoid being insulted. Over time, students pushed her to the front row and for Corby it was torture, because she never knew what was going on behind her back.

  A box of meat was a very insulting nickname and Jane didn’t even know at that time that Corby’s father owned the most popular local butcher’s shop. When she found out, her joke received the title of legendary. Corby couldn’t imagine what Jane would say if she knew that Mr. Mackentile was a vegetarian despite owning a butcher shop and he had also adopted a new religion—Buddhism.

  Yes, Corby had forgotten how it felt when she had friends who cared and listened to her opinions. When no one laughed at her. It seemed so long ago in her short life. Now, she was always alone. Even at home. Watching TV and reading books kept her from crying every day. She watched all the shows on the Disney Channel and Nickelodeon, laughing at all the jokes, even when they weren’t funny. There she didn’t see any fat, unfortunate girls who weren’t loved by anyone, including their parents. Corby felt sure things would be no different for her parents if she didn’t exist. Actually, it would be even better for her mom, more convenient. She would spend all her time and money only on herself and wouldn’t complain about the lack of either.

  “Mackentile!”

  Corby flinched and looked at the teacher.

  “Are you all right?” the woman asked.

  Corby didn’t have time to respond. She was always slow to answer any question, afraid of what might happen, ashamed of her voice and her body. She just wanted to sit at her desk and be invisible.

  “She’s on the pad!”

  The girls gasped, there was a slap, but all the boys laughed. Jacob Glasgow could say anything and get away with it. His parents were rich as far as Corby knew and she didn’t know much about him, but she had eyes and she saw that he was one of the most handsome boys in her school. Corby had never seen his father, but his mother was a tall, athletic blonde and Jacob didn’t look much like her. She remembered her thoughts when she saw his mother for the first time. The eyes of her classmate were the same as his mother’s—big and blue. He played on their school’s football team. He was captain last year, but resigned this year. Corby liked him, and so did half of the girls in her school. However, he didn’t date any of them because he was dating someone from a different school. So she had overheard.

  “Glasgow, I would love to hear you answering literature questions so wittily.”

  “I could, Mrs. Gullen, but I’m afraid you wouldn’t like it.”

  “How would you like to talk to the principal?”

  “You know, Mrs. Gullen, no one ever benefited from that course of action.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. An hour without you in class and I would give my students more information than in a week with you here.”

  “We can find all of the info you give on the Internet.”

  “Then perhaps you should say that to your mother so she can take you out of school and let you continue getting your education through the Internet.”

  “Maybe I will. I don’t think the principal would like that.”

  “Okay, too much time wasted on arguments.” Mrs. Gullen turned to the board. “Let’s continue our discussion of Shakespeare.”

  Corby followed the conversation,and wondered again how teachers swallowed their pride and allowed students to win an argument. Only because of money. All the power was in money. If her parents had as much money as Glasgow’s, w
ould others laugh at her? She doubted it. But she could never become rich, even though her father was selling the meat he hated. However, there was a huge benefit from this argument. Everyone had forgotten about Corby and she had become invisible again. Let them debate, even brag about money, only leave her alone. She didn’t worry that this joke would continue. At fifteen, a joke about a period was stupid and Glasgow certainly understood that. Besides, Jane or any other girl wouldn’t be interested in making fun of Corby with that subject. Corby could still expect surprises.

  Recess came quickly, but Corby didn’t hurry to collect her bag. She did everything slowly, so she could be the last one to leave or enter. No one would be behind her to push her, to call her names, or to laugh at her. A strategy of survival for a bullied kid.

  She waited until the last student disappeared out the door and then went out herself. She passed through the hallway successfully and went to the cafeteria to eat her box lunch, which was sold in the store and even included juice. Her mother said those boxes were her life savers. Corby hated them, but didn’t complain. At least she got that. Sandwiches from her father’s store were nice, but she was sick of them. The same ones for years. She could buy food in the cafeteria, but it meant she would have to stand side by side with other students, listen to their rude comments, and listen to discussions about what she put on her tray. Corby quit doing that about six months ago and started bringing her food from home. She usually sat at the farthest table outside if the weather was appropriate or in the cafeteria when it was cold. She took out her hated but nerve-saving box or a sandwich and ate her lunch while looking at anything she could find interesting on the Internet on her phone. She did everything possible so that no one paid attention to her, so that no one noticed her. She didn’t always succeed. Someone always wanted to earn more points to his or her popularity at Corby’s expense. It was so easy.

  Today she failed to be invisible. As soon as Corby prepared to eat, Jane and her clique sat down on the bench across from her with their trays from the cafeteria.

  Jane, Sylvia and Vera.

  Corby thought that Sylvia and Vera were popular in high school due to their breast size and height. She started developing breasts at thirteen, but she was shy of this sign of adolescence and never took off her baggy T-shirts or sweaters that covered her body, but Sylvia and Vera exposed every gift from Mother Nature. It wasn’t like they’d been very generously endowed, but they were able to emphasize what they had and it contributed to their popularity among the boys. When Jane appeared in their school, Corby realized that not everything depended on breast size and long legs. Jane was a small, flat-chested brunette with big blue eyes. On her second day in school, she got into a fight with Sylvia because of a place at the table. The popular girls were not yet ready to let her sit with them, but she earned respect and a place simultaneously and on the same day. Then it turned out that she had a black belt in karate, took some prizes in ballroom dancing, and her dad was the owner of two popular bars in Boston. On the same second day, she noticed Corby and set up the rules. Sylvia and Vera, both, talked to Corby before and had never said anything offensive or insulting. On this day, they laughed at her when Jane called Corby a box of meat. She did it casually, just passing by. Later, Sylvia and Vera started following Jane, recognizing her leadership, and they did whatever she said.

  Today Jane had on blue jeans, a red sweater, and red high heels. She had a dozen bracelets on her wrists, about six rings on her fingers, and a pendant on her neck. Corby thought she hadn’t seen anything more stylish in her life and wanted to try something like that for herself. She wanted to be like Jane, be Jane, but if she came to school dressed like that, she would be laughed at. It was impossible to become a person you never were. It was impossible to turn from a loser into a cool guy just by wearing rings on your fingers and fashionable clothes on your body.

  “Hi Corb!” Jane said in a singsong voice, dropping her tray on the table. She was in a good mood or pretending to be. It was never clear with Jane. She could have a big smile on her face one minute and then hit you in the face a second later. Corby was ready for anything.

  “Hi,” she said. She had to talk. She had to be polite to reduce her chances of being yelled at.

  “How’s your mom?” Sylvia asked and Vera burst out laughing.

  Corby made no response to her question, only looked down, and drank some juice through the attached straw. It didn’t matter what answer she gave they would laugh anyway.

  Corby’s mom was a constant topic of conversation for team Jane. Chelsea Mackentile was a local celebrity, working as an anchor for TV news. She was a tall and slender blonde and had won several beauty contests. Her career in the beauty business ended with her loss of the Miss America crown where she barely reached thirteenth place, but that didn’t stop Chelsea from becoming one of the most in-demand catalog models and later getting a job in television. Everyone was surprised by her choice of a husband—she could have found someone better than the owner of a butcher shop, but Chelsea and Patrick were high school sweethearts and couldn’t see their lives going separate ways. In addition to his butcher shop, he also earned money by playing at the stock market, sometimes quite successfully, adding a few thousand dollars to the family account each month. Corby didn’t like talking about her mother, of course, but she had to listen. It seemed that everyone knew more about her parents than Corby herself. Except for the part about the stock market and the shop, nothing else they said was true. Mom loved Corby’s dad and the stability he gave her. She didn’t need adventures or other men. Corby knew what was true and she brushed any gossip from her shoulders. If only it was as easy to avoid these conversations.

  If adults were amazed by the selection of a husband by an on-screen star, Corby’s classmates were surprised by the appearance of her daughter. They asked her if she was adopted, embarrassing her to the core. Jane didn’t miss the opportunity to do so now.

  “It’s amazing how the two of you don’t look alike at all,” she said. “Don’t you want to know your real mom? What if she’s a millionaire?”

  “Or an alcoholic,” Sylvia added, and Vera roared with laughter. “We wouldn’t have any questions in that case.”

  Corby put her box of juice on the table and looked at the girls. She wouldn’t eat in their presence no matter what. They could take her food away from her or start making vulgar remarks when she put it in her mouth. She remembered the time when she found a banana in her bag and started to eat it just as Jane approached. Comments about the size of her mouth and how much would fit in it didn’t die down for weeks. Corby hated sexual jokes more than anything and she couldn’t predict what would trigger them.

  The girls looked at her and ate their salads and pizza from the cafeteria. Corby listened to the clinking and scraping of spoons and forks around her and thought that she would sure like to have some pizza. Anything really, but she knew that today she would have to try to survive on juice until she got home. Mom would be happy to see such an outcome. She probably would be happy if Corby stopped eating entirely. If bullying helped her to get on a diet, she would say that Corby should man-up and ask them to bully her some more. Mom had never made this type of comment, but she could. Why not?

  “Corb,” Jane said, chewing her pizza, “tell us, do you have a crush on Glasgow?”

  Corby nearly choked on her juice, and shook her head.

  “No.”

  “Come on,” Vera joined in, “the way you look at him says a lot.”

  Corby liked Jacob; who didn’t like him? But after today she wanted to kill him, not love him. Who would make jokes about a period? Especially at fifteen? It was a rude, stupid joke and wasn’t like him at all. One of the reasons she liked Jacob Glasgow was because he had never said anything bad to her and didn’t make fun of her. He didn’t say anything good either, but it was better that way. It was better when she was an invisible face for him rather than subject matter for showcasing his sense of humor as he had done today.


  “You look at him. He looks at you. Such a cute couple,” Vera continued. “You should know that when boys pick on you, it means they love you.”

  It seemed like almost all the boys in school were in love with her, Corby thought while the girls laughed and she was afraid to look up. She twisted her box of juice and prayed they would eat fast. She could get up and leave ahead of them, but they would shout insults at her back and no one would stop them. No one stopped them before and they wouldn’t do it now. All the teachers pretended that nothing was going on and no one had ever bullied Corby. She could complain, but she had never complained to anyone other than her parents. She was ashamed to complain to her teachers, too old to be a tattletale. Well, she didn’t say much to her parents either, because it wasn’t their problem and they wouldn’t do anything anyway. Corby was sure of that. Maybe the teachers really didn’t know, but it didn’t make her life any easier.

  “I want to tell you something, Mackentile.” Sylvia pushed her tray away, leaned toward Corby, and stared at her with intense blue eyes. Corby returned her stare and tried not to turn away, although she really wanted to. “If you look at Glasgow one more time, you’ll have to change schools.”

  “Yeah,” Jane nodded. “Glasgow belongs to Sylvia.”

  Corby wasn’t sure Jacob was aware of that, but, of course, she didn’t say anything.

  “Not that he would ever look at you,” Jane said a moment later. “His mother is a vegetarian. She taught her son to stay away from boxes of meat.”

  The girls laughed again. Corby didn’t see anything funny in what was said, but no one asked her opinion about the popular girls’ sense of humor.

  “Hey, Mackentile!”

  Corby closed her eyes. Some of the boys. Some of the boys wanted to insult her. Second time today. What did they want from her? Her recess was already hell.