rissy stories

This headband, with cat ears attached on the top, feels tight around my scalp and the edges are digging into the back of my ears. My classmate, Adrian, gave it to me from her Halloween costume because she claims that: “My long hair looks prettier with a cute headband.” Sure, my straight, chocolate brown hair has grown all the way down to my bellybutton, but if I cut it short, my mom curls the tips to frame my face and she always burns me with the iron. So, I did what I have always done in these situations: choose the lesser of two evils. I’d rather walk out in public with a painful headband instead of burn marks on my cheeks. This has always been an effective strategy for me…but I don’t think that it will save me now.

“I didn’t do anything, I swear! ” I plead, practically begging her to believe me. My skin is red with fear, my foot taps on the hardwood floor of our kitchen, and my hands cling to the left and right edges of the chair. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest: thump-thump, thump-thump. I blink my brown eyes quickly to try and prevent tears from forming, but that’s also not working out so well. My pink t-shirt has pit stains, my blue jeans feel itchy, and all I want to do is go upstairs and fall asleep. However, I’m stuck in the kitchen with my mom towering over me, folding her arms over her chest, and glaring down at me.

“You were at Mickey’s 13^th birthday party yesterday, Piper. I know that you ran into Adrian and Tiffany, because they were there too,” She says with complete certainty in her tone. I gulp in fear of her and break eye contact by looking around the kitchen, searching for a good justification in the darkness. The sun has gone down and the entire house is completely dark, except for the light right above our heads. This interrogation is making the air thick and difficult to breath, but I force my hands to relax and my shoulders shrug after several seconds of not knowing what to say to her.

“I know, and I did…but I didn’t say or do anything!” I reply, looking back up at her. She sucks her teeth and shakes her head, like she doesn’t believe me. Her pixie-cut blonde hair swings with her head and her brown eyes close. She places her freckled hands on her hips and remains silent for a moment. My shoulders are still shrugging because I have absolutely no idea what she wants me to say. Of course I was at that party and I hung around them, but why does she assume that this is my fault? I huff with frustration as she opens her eyes and takes a deep breath, obviously trying to control her anger.

“Those girls’ parents called me while you were in school. Both of them stated that you were with them while they harassed that poor girl over text message,” My mom explains. My jaw falls open for a moment, angry that they would throw me under the bus so quickly. I also wasn’t expecting this to be such a big deal. Adrian and Tiffany are my acquaintances more so than friends, but they were the only ones who acknowledged me at that party. What was I supposed to do? Sit in the corner, while they had fun, like a 13-year-old loser? I’m a goody-two-shoes, but even I know that having fun isn’t a crime. I shut my mouth and straighten up in the chair.

“They weren’t harassing Amber, it was just a prank,” I correct her rudely. She scoffs at me as I fold my arms and fall back into a slouch, realizing that I don’t have the liberty of choosing between the lesser of two evils in this case. I’m getting in BIG trouble no matter what I say or do, which is ironic, because I never said or did anything in regards to participating in the prank. Adrian came up with the idea because we were bored and Amber annoyed her at school. Amber wasn’t at the party and Tiffany happened to be the only one who owns a cell phone, so she lent it to Adrian, and they began to anonymously text Amber. I admit that it might have gotten out of hand, but I was an innocent bystander! I never touched that phone or told them what to say. I explain this story to my mom at length, and she remains silent while I talk, but her expression has changed. She suddenly looks sad.

“They told Amber that one of her best friends was dead, Piper,” She reminds me, “Then they proceeded to text her from a completely different phone number and claimed that it was the ghost of the friend, haunting Amber.” I throw my hands up in the air and look at her like she’s crazy, because she is. We never meant to actually hurt her. It was a joke! I didn’t come up with the idea, but I agreed that it sounded absolutely ridiculous because we genuinely thought that she would have to be the most gullible person on the planet to believe it…or at least I thought that.

“You’re making it sound way worse than it actually was. Who would actually believe that?” I ask with a laugh. However, when my mom suddenly slams a hand down on the table that makes me almost jump out of my skin, I tense up in the chair again and understand her seriousness. She leans into me close enough to almost touch her nose with my nose.

“Piper, if you received an anonymous text message stating that one of your best friends was dead…how would you feel?” She asks me in a scary tone. My palms start to sweat as my heart suddenly drops into my stomach and I begin to feel nauseous. I look down into my lap, slide down in my chair, and my entire body shivers because I finally understand how upset Amber must have been, whether she believed the joke or not. I run a hand through my hair and accidentally knock the headband off of my head. It hits the ground with a loud smack. I take a shaky breath after a moment of silence and look back up at my mom, still gripping my hair.

“How is she?” I ask in a whisper, too scared to keep up the innocent act. She leans away from me and bites her lip, like she’s debating whether to tell me or not.

“You all bullied and scared the hell out of her. I’m not going to sugarcoat anything for you…she was so upset and terrified over this that she had a full-fledged panic attack. Thankfully her mother was there to help her through it,” Mom answers me, her voice breaking. The combination of watching my mother choke up and the guilt that I felt brought me to tears. I never meant for that to happen and I’ve never been called a bully before, especially not by my own mother.

“I didn’t mean to, I never said anything to her!” I keep repeating, trying to validate this as much as possible. She raises her eyebrows at me, like she’s astonished at my reaction to all of this. She continues to shake her head.

“That doesn’t matter. You never stopped them, and clearly, you didn’t believe that what they did was wrong. I bet that you were laughing right beside them the entire time. I thought I raised you better than that,” She says condescendingly as my crying turns into sobbing. I nod, then bury my head in my hands and lean forward in the chair. I rock myself back and forth for about a minute before mom kneels down next to me and tries to calm me down. I straighten back up and wipe the tears off of my face.

“It didn’t even feel real…bullying her, I mean. I didn’t think that we were actually hurting her,” I whisper with a congested nasal-y tone. Mom nods, picks up my headband, places it in my hands, and pushes the rest of my hair out of my face. I place the cat-eared headband back on my head with a flinch.

“I believe that you didn’t mean to hurt her,” She says, ignoring my flinch. I sniffle and wipe a finger underneath my nose, feeling calmer.

“So…what happens now?” I ask worriedly. Mom takes a deep breath.

“You confess to everyone,” She answers. I sigh heavily and fall back against the chair again. I immediately know what my defense statement will be.

“I swear that I witnessed it, but I never said or did anything to Amber! I just let it happen, which, in hindsight, is not nearly as bad as actually participating…right?”