I’ve always been fascinated by microscopes. It amazes me how it shows the hidden details that you can't always see with your eyes. It intrigues me how gazing through it, you can tediously judge and note every fault in that object of interest.
“Hey, Sofia! We’re going to be late for our next class. Quit lazing around, let's go!" I heard my friend, Delilah roar at me, completely breaking my train of thought.
I grabbed my things, "quit lazing around", and ran to the door to catch up with her.
“You seemed a little zoned out back there. Are you good?” Delilah questioned me with a puzzling look.
I stared at her. “Yes, uh-of course. Just thinking of… things.” I told her plainly, not willing to bore her with my fascination (or in her words, ‘nerdiness’) towards microscopes.
“Good. You know I’m here for you, right? Especially after what happened last week,” she says, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me closer to hug me.
“Hey, don’t worry. I have already forgotten about it,” I lied in an attempt to make her not worry, “plus, I had zero time to think about it since I am drowning to school work.” Delilah chuckles, patting my shoulder.
“Speaking of school, we’re gonna be, like you said, late. I suggest we run?” I added.
“You run, I run Jack,” she replied with a smile.
I’m the object that you can't see with the naked eye, and right now, the whole school is scrutinising me through a microscope. Last week, I was picked from the endless sea of undetected specimens and put right under the judgemental gaze of hundreds of teenagers. It happened when a bunch of my classmates decided to post hateful comments on my Instagram posts.
I try not to think about it since I’m used to things like this. I simply do not want to make a big deal out of it. Delilah urges me to tell my parents or the teachers but I don't think that it's necessary. Sure, it hurts my feelings, but it's fine! (At least, that's what I tell myself). Most people my age go through it, and I guess it’s just normal for us.
“Remind me… to never run again,” Delilah tells me between pants, having just run with me from one end of the building to another.
“Okay, what happened to ‘you run, I run, Jack' ?” I tease her while trying to catch my breath.
“Shut up!” she says, opening the door to our classroom.
I smile at her and walk-in. I gasp as I see my mom and my homeroom teacher talking by the teacher’s table.
“Sofia,” my mom calls out to me, standing up.
“What are you doing here?” I ask in confusion, looking towards Delilah for answers.
“I had to,” Delilah looks at me with caring eyes, “You were adamant to not let them know, but cyberbullying -- and bullying, in general -- is wrong. You deserve to get help. It’s not something you deal with on your own.”
“Delilah is right, sweetheart,” my mom croons, stroking my arm to calm me down.
“Please, Sofia. It is alright. Take a seat, you can guide us through as to what happened,” my homeroom teacher jolted up from her seat and pointed me to the empty chair between hers and the one my mom was sitting on.
I take a deep breath and hold Delilah’s hand, “Thank you.”
“Anytime, partner,” she says, gripping my hand more. “Now go sit down and tell them everything. We’re here for you.”
I nod. Moving towards my seat, I was caught with a realization. The things I went through this past year were… awful. I was too prideful to say anything. I failed to realize that there are people that are here for me. I was too blinded by fear and insecurities to see that. There are others like me, I understand that, but I hope that they have someone helping them, too.
“Sofia!” my mom jolted me back to reality.
“Oh right, sorry. I just got lost in my thoughts… again” I mumble, trying to regain my composure. I took a deep breath and started telling them everything. From the bullying to last week’s case of cyberbullying, and right up to the microscopes.
It feels good telling somebody about those damn microscopes!