[Disclaimer: This is a true story, and is articulated to the best of my ability.]

It was like I traded a happy day for 20 seconds of fame. I don't know – that's just how I feel.

*

Now the commotion had started when I was heading out of the auditorium, recuperating from an agonizingly boring stream of acts, far too short and alternative to be described as a play. Anyway, as I headed out I saw a young girl clutching something in her hand. She was running up to a friend, and immediately I heard “Is it dead? Is it dead?” My stomach churned as if someone was pouring acid down my throat, melting my innards as it clawed it's way through my body. I joined party with the girl; and let me tell you, nobody wanted my company, especially since they didn't know me.
The child ran to the water fountain with her friend, forcing the hamster to drink, saying that she found it on the floor.  She pushed his nose at the mouth of the faucet, water pouring onto it's face. I shook my head and told her to stop, asking her to allow me to hold it for a moment. “It's probably suffering from traumatic stress,” I said. Upon further inspection, I noticed that the hamster had the same ill symptoms that my pet mouse had before she passed away: Ruffled fur, uneven breathing, closed eyes, still body. Unfortunately, another, much older, girl came along.
She looked at me, wrinkling her nose. “What traumatic stress?”
The girls talked to her, and as I heard the name of the last person I wanted involved, I cringed. Janet.
Cruel and controlling, her minion got the hamster, and as she began to walk away I called out: “Wait, you're giving this to the person who's hurting it? Who's going to kill it?”
The lackey glared at me, trying to shoo me away, telling me it's none of my business. “A life is everyone's business,” I barked. “I don't want that animal suffering because of her idiocy. Where is Janet?”
“It's none of your business! Go away, what the fuck?” She growled.
A group of girls crowded around the hamster, passing it around like a toy. I did not catch the name of the animal, but I heard that it was a female. The girl with short hair who was holding it seemed to have shifted as I moved around the group, trying to catch eye with the poor thing. The lackey finally took the hamster, saw Janet, and ran towards her. Janet didn't even seem relieved as I watched from across the bench area, as the lackey returned the hamster to her. The lackey whispered in her ear, and pointed at me. The best insult that she could muster? “GET A LIFE!”
I returned angrily, “At least I don't spend my time ruining others'!”

My feet pounded against the cement while I stomped my way towards her, the entire time the girls murmuring amongst themselves. “What is she doing?” They were laughing at me.
There she was. Janet. In all her spoiled glory.
“Hey,” I snapped as she began to walk away. The butterflies in my stomach were turning into bats. “It's more mature to confront someone when you have a problem with them.” But she kept trying to run away. Coward. I thought.”Hey, I'm talking to you.”
As she turned around, I began to yell at her when she shouldn't listen. She kept trying to get away. My hand turned into a fist and was headed to her face, but I stopped myself forthwith, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards me. I was worried – if I punched her, the hamster could have been hurt, like a victim caught in the crossfire between a sniper and his target. I didn't' want to hurt the hamster, she could have squeezed it even more or drop it.  “Hey, let go of me!” she whined. “Let go! Go away!”
“THIS IS ANIMAL CRUELTY!”
“What animal cruelty?” and I believed I also heard her say: “There's no such thing as animal cruelty!”
“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!” I screamed into her face. “MY DOG WAS ABUSED. HE HAS A SCAR ON HIS BACK. I RESCUED HIM. From people like you, I RESCUED HIM. YOU'RE HURTING THE HAMSTER.”


Seeing the sarcastic, wide-eyed expression on her face, I exploded.

“BITCH! YOU BITCH!” I roared, contorting my face. “FUCKING BITCH! RUN AWAY. FUCK YOU. FUCK. YOU!” I began to scream and cry and yell into her face. And as I did, I saw her hand gripping onto the helpless hamster. The second I saw that, my eyes began to blur. In my head I was scolding myself, angry for crying. She was supposed to cry. Not me.
.... Not me.

She was wagging the hamster at me as if it were a finger, like a mother yelling at her child. I couldn't stand to see that poor sight any longer. As I stomped away, I continuously repeated the phrase, rather loudly. “FUCKING WHORE. FUCK YOU.” I didn't care that the parents and other students were surrounding me. I didn't care what they thought. I didn't expect anybody to like me then and there anyway. No one would get it.

But I hated myself.
I hate myself.
I could have taken the hamster and ran.
Why didn't I?
Why didn't I do that?
Why not?

The security guard came, offering me water and asking me what had happened. I could tell that when I said the word “hamster,” all interest in the situation faded from his face. He just kept telling me to drink water and calm down. Michael followed me, and as the security guard started to waved him off, I told him to stay.
We sat by the classes near the library, on one of those worn-out, old benches. The security guard walked away, leaving me with Michael. I was sobbed in his shoulder for God-knows-how-long, and popped two Tylenols. I knew they wouldn't help. They stopped working a long time ago. I started blabbering, repeating words and digging my head into my hands. “It's not fair,” I kept repeating. Michael continuously told me I was right. I appreciated him a lot. He's a great guy, especially for tolerating my whining for such an extended period of time. I couldn't thank him enough.
I wasn't surprised to see Mr. B headed my way with a smile on his face. “Shantay,” he said, of course holding the clipboard that never leaves his sight. “The parents said there was a girl cursing. Was that you?”
Of course. They care I called a bitch a bitch, but naturally the life of a helpless animal wouldn't matter to them. Typical of these Middle-Eastern fucks. It was the first thing that came to mind, and I purposefully blurted out: “Yes. She deserved it. Baron, you may not care about the animal, but I do. Everyone may find this funny, but I don't.”
“I don't think it's funny,” he said.
“She killed a hamster, Baron!”
“No. It's the same one.”
“But Nikki heard them--”
“No, they joke like that all the time.”

Fuck this. A kid gets suspended for setting off a stink bomb, which didn't hurt anyone. But this little brat keeps the animal she stuffed into her pencil pocket. Not to mention she left it in her locker without food or water. Let alone some light. I was ready to lose my mind.
Silence loomed, and Baron walked away.

I was fuming.
No.
Seething.
The bats in my stomach already ate the butterflies, and started to swim in that toxic acid Luck poured into the pit of my belly. Oh, I was mad. Shahe and Kevork had come, poured cold water on me, and walked away. I didn't feel like putting up with this, so I laughed and laughed, waiting for them to go the fuck away.
So I was angry. I was tired. I was wet. I love life. God has a great, fantastic sense of humor. Yes, let's all blame God, shall we?
My cell phone vibrated, getting a text message from another kid whose name I wasn't surprised to see. “is it true u got into a fight”
Word on the street travels faster than a camel's spit, eh?
I eventually called my mom, telling her to pick me up since I was sick. Kevin and Lena came later on as well, and I explained the entire thing to them. I love Kevin, he offered me some of his Mango drink (Which was delicious, mind you) to comfort me. Lena said I looked like I was crying, and I could tell without a mirror. My eyes could barely stay open, and they were burning when I tried to widen them.

This isn't fair.
This isn't right.
I'm going to do something about it.
I went home, told my best friend Nikki, and we contacted as many people as we could, and spammed the scenario over and over on Yahoo! Answers. The answers weren't revolutionary, but they were fruitful to an extent, quite redundant as well. One person suggested to buy the animal off the monster, and we're considering it.
When Michael had to leave, I hugged him and thanked him. When Lena left, I hugged her and told her that I love her; she's a good friend. I waited for my mom with Kevin in the nurse's office. It was the only safe haven from the rest of the idiots that roamed the school grounds.
My mom picked me up, worried, wondering why I called her. After all, I was supposed to go to Kevorks house with Shahe. I was surprised at myself, to turn it down and go home instead. It's always the last place I wanna be. And Shahe was the last person I wanted to talk to about this. He didn't care, and if he did, it would come out as an insult or some cynical remark. Isn't he supposed to support me, or just shrug it off like Delilah did? I'm not too pleased with this.

So Janet's going down.
Because if that bitch wants to play, she has a game. And let me tell you, I play hard, and I don't like to lose – especially to a shallow, spoiled, foolish little girl who thinks that being on the top of the food chain naturally and socially means that taking advantage of the little people will make her seem like a gift from God.

By George, I never knew hurting animals made you look cool! I should try that, and put my pants down to my knees while I'm at it. I'm sure everyone would like to see my underwear!

I'm a bitch to bitches, and a goddess to the good.

God may have said that animals were placed on this damned planet for our use, but he never said for abuse.
She's not going to win – we're going to stop this sick behavior, and make sure she spirals down like a German plane in World War II. I saved Kona, and I'm gonna save this hamster, or get suspended trying, because no animal deserves to be treated like this.


~Shantay M.S. 5/19 [the events took place on the 18th.]