Young Writers Society

The Six Letter Word

I put down my lunch tray at the usual table and sat down. A brunette on my right came out of her secret conference with a platinum blond and eyed me suspiciously.

"Oh don’t worry,” the blond, Melissa, assured her. “Ashley’s one of my friends.”

The girl’s shoulders relaxed and she smiled, “I’m Karen.”

I nodded, and began picking at my oily pasta. Karen turned back to Melissa and asked, “Where was I? Oh, yeah, so you know that girl, Lori?”

Melissa nodded, glancing around to make sure that no one overheard her. My ears perked up. Gossip. The six letter vice that almost everyone in the world secretly anticipates, but outwardly condemns. I dropped my fork and turned to listen to the two girls’ conversation.

“Who?” I asked.

Karen rolled her eyes at the second interruption. Melissa turned and whispered, “The girl, sitting at the table to our left.”

I turned around, not very subtly, and found myself staring at a girl dressed in a long black skirt and combat boots with a mismatched, patched together jacket. Her short, jet-black hair came down to her chin. She sat at the table alone, taking tiny bites of a sandwich. I heard Karen recommence her story and I looked back at her.

“Rumor is that she cheated on the last math test.”

Melissa’s eyes widened, “Really?”

Even I found myself joining the conversation, “How do you know?”

Karen gave me a withering look. “She’s in my math class. I saw her staring at my test.”

I nodded and turned to look back at the girl. She was still doing what she was before.

“I mean, a lot of people cheat, but she’s just stupid. She shouldn’t even be here,” Karen continued. “Like the other day, we were in class and the teacher asked her a question about how many sides were in a pentagon and she didn’t know it.”

“I don’t even know that,” I attempted to joke, but Karen gave me another annoyed look so I slumped back down into my chair. Note to self: do not participate in this conversation if you’re going to sound just as stupid as the girl they’re talking about.

“She’s also a druggy,” Karen stated, taking a sip of her orange juice.

I felt my jaw drop. “No way!” Melissa said.

I felt my own gossipy side take hold and before I could stop myself I said, “Well, the way she dresses she looks like she could be someone like that.”

Karen laughed, “I know.”

Encouraged by her agreement, I continued, “She probably stitched that jacket together with a blindfold on.”

This time Melissa laughed, covering her mouth with a perfectly manicured hand. Karen smiled, “Ashley, I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“And there’s no way that that’s the color of her hair. It looks like someone did a really bad job dying it and then finished it off with a longer version of a mushroom cut,” I heard myself say and I couldn’t help but look at the girl. Lori made eye contact with me and I felt my heart sink into my stomach. Something stronger than hurt surged through her gaze and suddenly she was on her feet, packing her bag. Within seconds she walked out of the cafeteria and into the hallway.

“I think she heard me,” I said to Karen and Melissa.

Karen just shrugged, “She needs a reality check once in a while. Dress like that and sit by yourself and you’re bound to attract negative attention.”

Melissa nodded and they returned to eating their lunch and talking about the hockey coach or some other teacher. I felt my ears tune out their conversation, my own embarrassment flushing my cheeks. I had never felt as bad about something as I did now. I finished the rest of my pasta and, with a halfhearted goodbye to my friends, went to class.

Lunch period continued in a similar fashion for the next couple of days minus the element of me joining in the conversation. As I listened to Karen’s critical words, I became even more disgusted with what I had done before and with what my friends were talking about with unchecked interest. Every few minutes I would find myself glancing over my shoulder at Lori and each time I did I felt my heart sink a little lower than before. She was always in the same spot, wearing equally bizarre clothing, and looking just as alone as the day she overheard me. But now there was something more defeated in her stance. Her shoulders were more slumped over as if she had given up on trying to stand out by making herself small enough to disappear. Maybe if she slouched more, she probably thought, she could become invisible.

When I passed her in the hallways between classes, I ducked my head down low in order to avert her gaze. My heart grew heavier with my own guilt and I soon found the previously enjoyable gossipy conversations at our lunch table a repeating reminder of the look that had crossed Lori’s face when she had heard what I said. Karen seemed to have completely forgotten about me and whenever I did try to talk she shot me down. Lunch was miserable and I always found my mind wandering back to Lori.

After a week had passed, I was in history class when our teacher called me to the front of the room. “Ashley, this is Lori. She transferred into this class for the term because of her conflicting schedule. I’m assigning you to be her partner for the World War II project.”

Lori looked positively horrified. “I can’t work with her,” she said, looking down at the floor. A crease wrinkled the teacher’s brow.

“Nonsense. Go sit over in those two desks and get yourselves acquainted,” she said, shooing us off towards the back of the room.

I walked to the back; my heart beating faster than I thought was possible. I sat down and I saw the begrudging Lori sit down next to me. She stared down at the desk, not looking at me.

“So, for the project I was thinking we could do the Berlin air raids or something. What’d you want to do?” I asked.

She didn’t answer and I repeated the question. When again she didn’t reply, I found myself saying, “Look, Lori, I’m really sorry. I know you heard what I said about you before. I really didn’t mean the things I said. I was with my friends and you know how it is when they’re talking and you want to join in.” I tried to explain but I found myself trailing off.

Lori looked up at me, an angry expression twisting her lip. She stood up, went to the teacher and asked for the bathroom pass. She didn’t come back into the classroom after she left. At the end of class I felt even worse than I had before. That night as I tried to go to sleep, I tossed and turned with my guilt. That morning, sleep deprived and still feeling at fault, I made up my mind to try and fix the mess I had made.

I entered the lunchroom and scouted the area for Lori. She was sitting at a table in the back corner of the dining hall by herself. I forced myself to walk past my usual table, hearing Karen as she began her normal gossiping routine.

I put my tray down across from Lori and she glanced up at me from behind a pair of bright orange glasses.

“You know,” she said, staring at me bemused as I sat down and began to eat, “they’re going to start talking about you.”

I turned to see Melissa staring at me in shock and Karen starting to open her mouth to whisper something to the blond.

“Let them talk”, I finally said. “They never really seemed to like me anyway. They probably say stuff behind my back far worse than the things they said about you. They wouldn’t know the truth if it hit them in the face.”

“And what’s that?” Lori asked, putting down her book and looking at me, unconvinced.

“Gossiping makes you have trouble sleeping at night,” I finally said, looking back down at my food.

Lori stared at me critically, contemplating if I was serious or not, and then smiled.

“So what book you reading?” I asked. Lori nodded, less apprehensive than before and began to explain the text. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw that Karen was staring at me, revolted. I tried to wave, but couldn’t seem to raise my hand high enough for her to see. She tilted her face back to her table, the others following her lead, turning their backs towards me. I looked back at Lori and thought, appearances aren’t everything at all.