by Grace Sizemore
“Payback is a bitch” was written on his truck windows in pink lipstick. The lettering stood out compared to the dark tint. He walked out to see us finishing the rage enforced words. I walked down the hallway I had walked down the past two and a half years for the last time. I was taken to my guidance counsellor’s office and started a journey I had never imagined would happen to me.
Hannah and I sat in Hannah’s bed talking about the cute guys we were talking to. Pitch Perfect played on the TV in the background. I finally asked who she was talking to. “Chris Taylor,” Hannah said. My stomach turned. Hannah saw my face and got concerned. I told her the name of the guy who was talking to me too. Chris Taylor. Our conversation about the sweet boy immediately turned into a conversation of frustration between us. We took turns expressing our frustration and pointing out different texts. The next morning, I went to pick up Hannah for school. I pulled into Hannah’s driveway at 7:02 am so we could get to school on time.
She never looked happy to be going to school but that day she seemed like she was the happiest person alive. As Hannah ran out to my car with a big smile on her face, I became curious. When Hannah got to the car, the conversation to change my life started.
“Why are you smiling so much?” I asked.
“I was lying in bed last night thinking of how we could get Chris back and I know the perfect thing to do.”
When those words came out of Hannah’s mouth, I instantly felt like something bad was going to happen.
Hannah went on, “We can skip first period and go get pink lipstick to write on his precious truck’s windows. I was thinking ‘Payback is a Bitch.’”
The excitement in her voice as she explained the way he would cry about his gorgeous truck being tampered with made me feel less bad but I still was worried. Hannah made the idea feel more and more fun and spontaneous.
We drove to a CVS four miles away from their high school, E.C. Glass. As we walked in the cashier said good morning and we replied back like a recorder. We picked out a hot pink lipstick and gave it to the cashier to checkout. Hannah pulled out her card and paid two dollars and forty-three cents for the small tube.
We pulled into the student parking lot thirteen minutes after leaving the CVS. I parked in a space right beside Chris’s black 2016 Toyota Tacoma and we got out and started our masterpiece. I wrote the first two words and Hannah finished it off. As soon as we started to admire what we thought would be a laughable joke for the whole school, a loud yell came from the building. We both recognized the voice from the many FaceTime calls we had with him. Hannah jumped in the car with fear and I ran for the driver’s side. Before I opened the door, I saw Chris pull out a knife from his pocket and put it up to my car. Even thought it was a crappy 1997 Volvo Station Wagon, the rage took over my fear as I walked up to his truck with my car key and put it on his precious truck. I could see his face red with anger as he started walking towards me with the knife pointed in my direction. I could feel my heartbeat in my whole body. My breathe became short as fear took over my rage, but I knew I had to at least act strong. I pushed back all the fear and said, “If I feel that knife touch me even a little your truck will have a new mark.” I glanced down at my key pressed up against the paint of the truck. He walked closer to me and fear almost took over me. I wanted to run but I knew I wouldn’t have the advantage of him fearing a scratch on his car. I stayed put and looked at him straight in the eyes. He pushed me into his car before walking around it and towards our high school.
As we walked up the stairs to the front of the school, Hannah and I talked about how scared we both were. We walked into the front office and grabbed tardy passes, then parted ways to go to the last ten minutes of our second period classes.
I set my book bag down by my seat for third period. I was about to sit down when I noticed everyone else in the class was looking at the door. I turned around to see our parole officer, Officer Brooks, standing there talking to my teacher. My stomach dropped as he pointed to me.
My teacher and the officer looked over at me as Officer Brooks said, “Grace could you come with me?”
I knew it wasn’t actually a question. I had no choice. So, I left my stuff and walked out the door.
Brooks walked into the assistant principal’s office, Lillian Guzlowski, while I walked slowly behind him. He told me to sit at a circular table with Hannah and Chris. I sat beside Hannah, who was sitting across from Chris.
Officer brooks started his talk with an uncertainty in his voice. “Now, I know Grace and Chris fairly well.” He looked over at me, “You say hello to me every day and ask me how I am and I appreciate that very much. Not many kids do that. But, I don’t know about your personally life nor do I know what caused you to do this.”
He then talked about Chris coming to him and telling him the damage the we had done to his truck. Before we could say anything, Brooks told us they had it all on video and explained some of the actions we did to make sure we knew he was not lying. My eyes started to tear up with frustration as I imagined the disappointment on my parents’ faces once they were told what I had done.
Brooks started talking about compromises all three of us could make, including Hannah and me washing the lipstick off of the truck before school ended. As tears started to stream down my face I asked the officer if he kept watching the video to see Chris’s reaction. Brooks immediately stopped talking. As Chris started yelling at me in anger, the assistant principal took Hannah and me out of the room quickly. Hannah was told to go back to class and I was taken to my guidance counselor’s office, Felisha Calloway. I sat in her office and looked at my guidance counselor and the assistant principle talking outside the room. They both looked very concerned.
The room was quiet. I sat across for Calloway and Guzlowski. Guzlowski sat with her head down in sadness and Calloway sat patiently looking at me as if I was supposed to say something. The silence was broken when Brooks walked in with a pen and pad of paper and sat in a chair on the wall to the right of me. Then conversation started. I sat nervously hiding all the emotions running through my body from everyone else in the room.
Calloway finally spoke up and said, “Grace, we need you to tell Officer Brooks the events that happened earlier this morning.” I nodded and turned towards Brooks. I recalled the whole situation in as much detail as I could. Brooks left the office and said thank you as Calloway got up to move to her desk. “I’m going to call your mom and ask her to come here so we can all talk.”, Calloway said as she picked up the phone and dialed the number off her computer.
Fifteen minutes later, my mom, Julie Manning, sat beside me and talked to Guzlowski about the options the school could give for my protection. I sat in silence trying to calm my nerves as Guzlowski explained she didn’t think there was an option the school could give and ended the conversation with her frustrated feelings about the school’s policies. My mom stood up and grabbed my hand as she left the office and headed straight out of the building.
We sat in the car in silence for a minute until she looked over at me and said, “I guess you got your payback if it made him that mad.” We both started laughing and headed to McDonalds for ice cream cones. Once we got home, she told my stepdad what had happened earlier that morning and then left to tell my dad and stepmom. The next day I was woken up by my mom and taken to the courthouse in Downtown Lynchburg. My mom explained that my parents were going to get a restraining order for me against Chris.
“All you have to do is tell the judge your story and then she will give us one so you can keep going to Glass.”, my mom said. I nodded and walked in to stand in front of a judge with my mom by my side.
I stood there and told the woman sitting above me my story. At that point, I had told my story so many times that it didn’t feel like it was a traumatic experience anymore. It felt normal.
The judge listened but her facial expression showed no sympathy. The old, grey haired woman sat above looking down at me with a rude look, as if she were disappointed. Finally, the story was done and my mom and I stood there waiting for the judge to order a restraining order, but our once hopeful faces turned sad when the judge said she would not give one. “You instigated the situation to happen.”, the judge explained.
So, the hunt for a new school began. There were many schools to choose from but I could not keep an open mind because I loved my old high school so much. We visited two schools, including Virginia Episcopal School and Heritage High School, before visiting Holy Cross Regional Catholic School. A school totally different from my past high school. It was a small, religious school. As soon as My mom and I walked in and we were immediately offered a choice of hot chocolate or coffee. We both said yes. As we walked around the three hallways of the k-12 school, I sipped on my hot chocolate as I looked around at the half-painted green lockers and the off-white paint chipping off the ceiling. It was a very worn-down building that needed fixed. Everyone in the classes stared at me as I walked by. I did not like it at all, but neither did I like any other place we looked at.
Holy Cross was right down the street from Glass so I knew I could see my friends anytime I wanted. So, I said yes to Holy Cross. I started going there in my new uniform, a green and yellow quilt and a white button-down shirt with three crosses on my left shoulder. No one talked to me the first day. They all stared at me as if I was some odd creature they had never seen before. The second day, everyone heard a rumor that I had been kicked out of Glass for bad behavior. I got asked constantly what I did to get kicked out. In response to their rude statements, “I was not kicked out. A guy pulled a knife out on me and the school couldn’t protect me. So now I’m here.” My sixteen other classmates including the seniors were astonished by my story. When I got home my mom told me many of the parents at the school did not like my story being an image in their children’s mind. That something like that actually does not happen to human beings in real life. I then told everyone that my parents wanted me to have a better education and so I was there for that reason and only that reason.
Once the rumors kept coming, two girls came up to me during my study hall. Jenna and Sophie. The two people who were naturally outlawed because they didn’t have blonde hair or fancy shoes to wear with their uniforms. They asked me to hang out and soon enough their outlawed duo became a trio. Once I became more comfortable, I started to act less shy and showed who I really was. More and more people became friends with me and slowly, Holy Cross Regional Catholic School wasn’t all that bad.
Four words written on a truck out of rage changed my view on life forever.