My Name is Avery Scott

Chapter 1

My Name is Avery Scott

Once upon a time, there was a fourteen-year-old girl named Avery Scott. She was the most popular girl in school and everyone loved her. She was the head cheerleader, had a boyfriend who was also the most popular in school, and she had a group full of best friends. Not to mention she was so gorgeous that celebrities commented on her Instagram posts longing for her beauty.

Okay, I'll cut it with the bullcrap. My name is Avery Scott and I like fairytales. My story, though, is not a fairytale...more a nightmare, I suppose...well, there's not a happy ending, however you choose to look at it.

Today, I am writing to you, my journal, at two o'clock in the morning to share a story that, after a long time of solitary confinement and consideration, I believe needs to be shared with you. It's the story of a bully, a bully named Avery Scott. This is my story.

One day, I believe it was the twentieth of April, I was in a good mood - I mean, who wasn't? It was 4/20! National Weed Day. The teachers were probably smoking some in the teacher's lounge, honestly, because who knows what goes on in there. The kids, though, were going to town on it. Not I, though, I was raised by a mother who has a firm belief against such a thing and although I haven't a religion, not doing drugs or smoking anything might as well count since I worship being healthy.

My friends were smoking, Madeline and Elle, on the playground that day. Some girl whose name I did not know walked up to Madeline and said, "Can I have a hit?"

We stared at her. Yes, I admit it, Madeline, Elle, and I were pretty popular and well-known throughout the ninth grade, and more familiarly, the whole school. This girl was not like us. She looked like she had a rough life, but what happened next, no one could have predicted.

Elle spat at the girl.

Madeline laughed, and shot her a prize-winning smile. "Oh, honey, go back to the streets where you belong. Find your own weed. You don't fit in here."

My eyes grew wide. I did not know it was capable for my friends to be so cruel.

The girl looked up at me. I didn't know what to say, how to help this girl, or how to react to my best friends' actions. I was at a loss for words. Nothing like this had ever happened in the books I read, or the movies I watched. Everyone was friends in those types of media.

But I guess this is real life.

Madeline and Elle turned to me. Three pairs of eyes bore holes into my face and I finally stammered out, "Honey, what's your name?"

She looked down. " name?"

I nodded, and gave her a smile. A small, timid smile. I was scared, too.

"My name is Elizabeth."

"Aw, now, this baby has an ugly name to match her poor ugly face," Elle's face transformed into a slight pout. She was enjoying this too much. What could I do?

Madeline laughed once again. "Here, take the god damned weed." She tossed it at her. "Just don't get caught by a teacher, you know, because that could mean..." she gave Elle a side glance, and as evil smiles overtook their beautiful faces, together they said, "expulsion."

Elizabeth ran away without even looking at the drug. I dont know what possessed her to talk to us, but she must know now that she couldn't have possibly done anything worse.

What did I do wrong? I thought to myself later that night.

The voices in my head began to argue. You didn't do anything wrong, Avery. You, Avery Scott, are perfect.

If I was so freaking perfect, why did I cry myself to sleep that night?

I had woken up the next morning with about six or seven text messages. Maybe that was all a horrible nightmare and these will be from Elle and Madeline about missed homework assignments or their boyfriends or plans for this weekend.

It was an anonymous number that texted me. I read all of those text messages, and I was horrified.

Hello, Avery, I saw you on the playground.
It's not nice to be a bully.
I saw you smoking weed.
Why do you degrade people like that?
It's a criminal offense.
You are a criminal.

It all was a little creepy, but it was the last message that creeped me out. You are a criminal.

In my stupe of idiocracy, I replied to the text messages.

I did not, do not, and will not ever smoke weed, do any drugs, or smoke anything. And I did not bully that poor child. I didn't do anything.

I put my phone down and walked into the bathroom to wash my face. Maybe then I could wash away all the pain of yesterday.

I heard my phone vibrate, so I walked back into my room. A new message.

You didn't do anything.

Yeah, I didn't do anything. I asked the girl her name. What was I suppose to do, betray my friends over some stupid stranger? Of coure not! What they did was wrong, but I didn't do it.

Not allowing myself to reply to the messages any longer, I turned my phone off and just lied down on my bed and closed my eyes.

You are a criminal. I hear my head tell me. You didnt do anything.

Although I swore to god I turned my phone off, I felt it buzz.

And that, my darling Avery, makes you the worse bully of all.

I threw my phone across the room and screamed. This was all too weird, too weird for me, too weird for anyone, too weird for now, too weird for ever.

This had to be solved. I walked over to my computer and Googled, "if you didn't do anything, how can you be a bully?"

The first article that popped up was from an old New York Times magazine, from 2001. "Bystander" it was titled.

It was so long, and I spent my whole morning reading it. It basically said that if you witness an act of unkindness or bullying and do not step in to help or report it, that you are as bad of a bully as the person before you.

I slammed my laptop screen and cried. I didn't let myself out of my room for days. And I report to you now, still in my room, my story.

I, Avery Scott, am a bully. And I hate myself for it.


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