It was nothing...

ET whispered in Carey's ear, all the blather that was inside her head leaking out onto the floor with the delicacy of a falling elephant. If you could say that her blather was substantial at all. As far as I was concerned, it was nothing.

Their eyes darted my direction once more, blond hair shivering on their heads as they laughed giddily at my expense.

"You know they're talking about you," Brigit told me knowingly, as if it mattered.

In their world, it did matter. Every little hurtful word or cross stare sent my way was the game of life that they played. If you paid attention, it would tear you away until you were nothing but a hollow shadow of yourself, unfit for anything except those withering glances.

I acknowledged my friend's comment slowly, gazing contentedly across the room at ET and her Cohort. "You know I could care less."

This always surprised Brigit. She was a creation of the game, the one that they sought to destroy me with. Everything from her too curly hair, pulled tightly back into a high ponytail, to the fact that she wore make-up at the ancient age of eleven. She was all theirs. I knew it killed them that I wasn't.

Brigit wouldn't give up. She was always worried about what they thought about me. "You know, they wouldn't make fun of you if you wore newer clothes. Or maybe started wearing make-up. I could..."

I laughed. "So now poverty is a reason to be an outcast. Thanks, Brig. Always wanted to know why they hated me..."

"I was just saying," she began again, but I wouldn't let her finish, standing up to cut off her sugar coated words.

"I know, Brig. You're always just saying..." And I left.

Twenty years from now, I thought contentedly, I will own them. They're just jealous. Because they know it's true.

Again, in that classroom. I sat at the too-small desk, staring at the blank chalkboard. It took me no effort to imagine what could be there. I saw in color, in lines. The world formed in my sight, and I copied down the beauty into my notebooks. Words or shapes, sometimes both, I jotted them down and they became my own. It was the only thing in the world I controlled, but I controlled it well.

But, to people like ET and Carey, it was nothing.

Someone dropped their books on my head.

"Oops!" she cried theatrically. Yeah. Amazing. Her books flew up into the air from three rows over and just happened to nearly brain me. "Sorry!" she called as the class laughed.

"It's nothing," I said more to myself than anyone else. If nothing was something that was going to end up getting her a bloody nose that afternoon, that was a BIG nothing.

I shook it off. Just a few more somethings for my notebook.

The whispers followed me into middle school, then to high school. You would think that, being nearly adults, they would find a better way to start rumors and ruin lives than whispering behind hands and passing notes. Guess not.

"Look at me," I told Brigit, one day after school as I hung upside down from the swing set at the park. "I'm all growed up."

"Seriously, Gaea," she told me, checking to see if no one was looking. "You need to start acting your age."

I kicked my legs from off the pole, flipping around and landed on my feet at a crouch, gaging Brigit's expression. It reminded me of ET.

"Seriously, Brig," I said, shaking my head at the tone she had used with me, "You need to let the adults be adults and start acting like a kid. You won't be one for much longer."

Brigit sighed. "Just shut up, Gaea. If you want me to be your friend..."

I walked away. I guess I could have stayed and worked out the friendship. But I looked back and I knew...It was nothing.

The twenty years passed quickly, after that. I had something to prove. I wrote more and more as the years went by, published a few stories. I hit it big when I turned twenty five, finally getting my pet story published. They even decided to make a movie about it.

Then came the reunion. It was a moment that I had looked forward to for years. It was time to show them that I had succeeded despite what they had said to me.

I walked in to the room, flashy in my brand new designer, black dress that had been specially made for me by the designer himself. I wore my hair up in a stylish bun and wore pride like a cloak.

They treated me like a friend that they hadn't seen for years. All flash and fly, they congratulated me on my success. I mentioned how they treated me, but they denied ever harsh word, acting like it was all fun and games. For them, maybe.

I sat at the back of the room, watching them. The girls who jaded me were now fat and uncoordinated. Their husbands had beer bellies and each one looked harried with two or three toddlers at their hips, more at home. I sighed and took a deep drink of my well made mudslide.

It figured. I worked my whole life to impress the people who had hurt me my entire childhood, and they didn't even know why they should be impressed. Somehow, they managed to turn all the pain that had made my success into...well...nothing.

Crap.