A doll made out of glass
All her friends think that she's great
But I can see through it all
And she's about to break.

“I can’t believe this,” Dad muttered as he paced the floor. Mom and Julie stood next to the flat, cold and uncomfortable ER bed. “Are parents raising kids or rabid dogs?”
“Then should be expelled,” Julie quipped.
“I’ll go further, arrested. All three of them.”
“I like your idea, Dad,”
“It was only two,” I whispered. “Just two. Not Tony.”
The three looked at me like maybe I had sustained brain damage to go along with my bruised ribs, neck and arms.
“He was there, everyone said he was.”
“He was trying to get them to stop,” I replied as I felt every nerve in my body scream out due to the pain of my injuries and the horrify feeling of lying on a metal hospital bed covered with paper sheets and a pillow with maybe one feather in it.
Dad shook his head and Mom did too.
“I‘ll go talk to him,” Julie volunteered. “What doe he look like?”
It was then my turn to shake my head. “I’ll deal with it.”
“You’re not dealing with anything,” Dad replied with a stern tone to his voice. “I’m going to the school now and find out what happened.”
“It wasn’t Tony,” I pleaded as Dad left.
“Who was it?” Mom asked.
“Two morons. I don’t know why they started it. I see them everyday and then today, this happens.”
I wanted to get up, brush off the proverbial dust, and walk out of there like I owned the world but instead, I cracked and bawled my heart out. It was just like the dance. It was that dark day in eighth grade all over again. Fully exposed once again to the world.
Why did it have to happen again? Was there always going to be someone, somewhere, ready to assault me over and over again? I thought I was in a place that should offered protection from danger in junior high and high school but that just wasn’t true. I’d have to hire a bodyguard or enroll in an actual martial arts class and carry a katana disguised as an umbrella. You grow up thinking the minor things can be plucked from your memory. You recall only the good until it happens again, and it feels like that’s your life from there on out. No matter what you do, someone will always be there to give you the middle finger and attempt to destroy you.
I regret I felt that way, like giving up on everything and living in a shell. A shell cloaked by all the powers welled-up from the unknown reaches of the universe. In doing so, I’d avoid any pain, and no one would have to look at me. Perhaps being an empty shell would have been a better choice.
Mom and Julie took turns sitting in a very uncomfortable chair and leaning against the wall as nurses and orderlies came in to wheel me over for a CT scan, where it was eventually confirmed those two morons had sprained my right arm and gave slight fracture to my left leg that required a cast. I was unhappy with both as it meant I was unable to do just about anything for a few days which was to be a painful experience.

Frank drove my car to the house and went over the incident with everyone. I was sprawled out on a couch in the smaller front room, off from the living room and overlooking the driveway.
“Steve and Zach are in it deep.”
“They’ll be in deeper tomorrow,” Dad replied.
Frank nodded.
“What about Tony?” I asked.
“Yeah, he kicked their asses, excuse me,” Frank looked to my dad, who, waved it off. “He was pissed for the rest of the day.”
“I still think he had something to do it,” Julie said and then took a sip of coffee from a large cup.
“I thought that too, at first, but Steve and Zach said they were paid to do it.”
“Paid? What? The farm town mafia?” Julie yelled, nearly spitting out said coffee.
“They each got typed out notes and some cash. At least that’s what’s been said,” Frank said with a shrug. “No one has an idea on who wrote them.”
“We’ll find out more,” My dad replied as he shook his head.
“Oh, you did some damage. Steve’s got a pretty good gash across his face.”
“I don’t remember doing anything like that.”
“My dad is willing to give you some advanced fighting training if you want.”
“I do.”
“Joanna Annette Peterson. kicking ass and taking names.”
“That’s enough, Julie,” mom replied.
“Can I talk with Frank, privately, please?”
Everyone else nodded and left the front room.
“So no one knows?
“It may all be just a huge rumor, Jo, but Steve’s kind of a butthead and Zach follows him like Beavis so I think it’s possible.”
“What else do you know?”
“Tony wants to know where you live. I didn’t tell him anything.”
“I don’t think he was a part of it.”
“I agree with you, since he was so upset. Either that or he needs to be a part of the drama club.”
Frank sat down in the chair next to the couch,
“How long are you in the cast?”
“No idea.”
“Can you drive?”
“Julie’s going to take us to school on Monday.”
“Great. That’s good to hear that you’ll be back on Monday. Should I say anything if anyone asks about you?”
“No one who really cares is going to ask about me, Frank.”
“Tony?”
“Okay, one person,” I replied with a dismissive wave.
“All your teachers?”
“That reminds me, can you get my homework assignments?”
“You were in a brutal two-on-one fight, and you want me to get your homework?”
I nodded.
Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out a waded up piece of paper. “Of course you do. I got a few of your teachers to give me some page numbers and a worksheet or two.”
“Are the worksheets in your other pocket?” I asked as he handed the paper to me.
“No, sorry I left them in my locker…in fact, kind of left everything after they let me take your purse and drive your car back.
“How does it feel to get behind the wheel?”
“I want my own. I’m going to start working this spring.”
I nodded but then started crying.
Frank kneeled down. “Hey, Jo, talk to me, ‘kay?”
“I thought I was going to die today,” I whispered hoarsely.
“I was worried you were too, and I wanted to take a few hits on Steve and Zach but they were detained by the sheriff and Mr. Cain, so they got off, for today. I’m sure your dad’s going to take them down a level or two.”
“It was like the eighth grade again, Frank.”
“I’m sorry, Joanna.”
“Exposed.”
“No, Tony pretty much covered you up and yelled for towels. No one with half a brain or a heart found it funny.”
“Until next week.”
“And once your leg’s healed up, you can show them what they can do with their stupid comments.”
I nodded, but still felt horrible about it all. I had such a different experience than what Frank said happened. It was like a terribly focused movie.
“Tony may want to help you. Do you want me to tell him where you live?”
“No, but can you get his phone number for me?”
“You want me to ask Tony for his phone number for you?”
“Yes, I’d rather talk on the phone then have him know where I live in.
“That’s a great way to pick up guys.”
“Shut up, Frank,” I replied.
“Ooh, I see the fire has returned. Welcome back, soldier.”
I admit, I had to kind of smile at that.