Gamer Girl by Mari Mancusi Page B

talk to her. And honestly I was getting pretty sick of
holding everything inside. "I, um, got into a fight with Billy
Henderson." I explained what happened, with him destroying my
painting. "I was so mad," I said, feeling a lump in my
throat as I relived the memory. "I just kind of lost it. Not
very cool, I know."
    Ms. Reilly
looked at me with sympathy. "Ugh," she said. "You've
had a rough time since you moved here, haven't you?"
    "Yeah, it
hasn't been great," I admitted.
    "Believe
me, I know what it's like," she said. She yanked out her hair
elastic and red curls tumbled around her shoulders. It suddenly
dawned on me that she wasn't very much older than the kids she
taught. Twenty-two, twenty-three maybe?
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    "Growing
up, I was what they called an army brat," she said, placing her
black-rimmed glasses on the desk. "My dad was in the navy and we
moved around every year. And that meant every year I had to start a
new school in some other city and state. I was shy and bookwormy back
then and wore really thick glasses to correct my nearsightedness.
Let's just say I wasn't exactly the most popular kid in any of my
schools. In fact, it was downright near impossible for me to make
friends. And then if by some miracle I managed to find a kindred
spirit or two at a particular school, Dad would inevitably announce
we were moving again." She shook her head. "I'd try to stay
in contact with my old friends--the ones who were so difficult to
make in the first place--but it was always out of sight, out of mind.
Once I'd moved away, they forgot about me, just like that. It was as
if I never even existed."
    "I know
the feeling," I muttered against my will. I thought about the
early mornings before the first bell rang. The lonely lunches by
myself in the back of the cafeteria. It wasn't a pretty picture. "I
used to like high school. Now I'd rather get drilled at the dentist."
    Ms. Reilly
laughed appreciatively. Then she turned serious. "Look, I know
it's hard to imagine there's life after high school, Maddy. But trust
me, it gets better," she promised. "For people like me and
you, it really, really gets better."
    I wanted to
dismiss her words as teacher talk. As an after-school special gone
bad. But there was something about the way she spoke. The look in her
eyes. She really believed what she was saying.
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    "Easy for
me to say, right?" she asked with a small smile. "But hard
to do."
    I nodded.
"Right. I mean, it's not like I'm asking to be picked on. I
don't do anything to them."
    "Right.
You're just an easy target. Gotta stop that."
    I frowned.
"What am I supposed to do?" I growled. "Just run
around and pretend like it doesn't bother me?"
    "No.
Pretending isn't enough. You've got to get to the point where it
really doesn't bother you. Stop giving them your power."
    I cocked my
head. "Huh?"
    "By
letting them upset you--by reacting--you're giving away your power.
You're letting them and other outside things control your
happiness. You need to figure out a way to be happy in here."
She placed a hand over her heart. "And then what happens out
here"--she waved around the room--"won't bother you so much
anymore."
    I nodded
slowly. Okay, so it was total psychobabble, but what she said made
sense, in a weird way. Why should the Haters get to decide if I had a
good day or bad day? They meant nothing in the grand scheme of life.
Just lame-ass kids in a dinky little suburban town. High school would
be the peak of their pathetic lives, whereas I had bigger plans for
mine. Like becoming a famous manga artist for one. Which reminded me
of my reason for coming here to begin with.
    "Actually,
I had this idea," I said slowly, crossing my fingers she'd be
receptive to it. "I was wondering how someone would start a
school club."
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    She cocked her
head. "What kind of club?"
    I took a deep
breath. "A manga club. I was talking to this freshman and she
said there were a lot of people in school that read it here. I
thought we could maybe get them all