Iva- Hiding Alone

"Ms. Johnson, clapped her hands to get their attention. "All right, boys and girls! It's time for a fun game of hide and seek!" She announced, eliciting excited cheers from the kids. 

Everyone quickly formed a line, ready to count while one of them hid. Emma volunteered to be the seeker first. She covered her eyes, leaning against a large oak tree, and began counting aloud.

"1...2...3...4..."

Everyone scampered away in all directions, the tiny feets pitter-pattering across the soft grass. Searching for the perfect hiding spot, our imaginations were running wild. Emily found a spot behind a colourful playhouse, while Joshua squeezed into a corner under the slide.

"20... Ready or not, here I come!" Emma exclaimed, removing her hands from her eyes and starting her hunt. 

The playground transformed into a maze of hiding spots, and Emma wandered around, peeking under slides, behind swings, and inside the playhouse. She spotted Joshua, who had chosen a less-than-perfect hiding spot as his sneaker peeked out from under the slide.

While they were all enjoying the game, I just sat there alone on the swings... watching my classmates play together, I couldn't help but feel a knot in my stomach.

"Iva, aren't you going to play with them?" Ms. Johnson asked, seeing me sitting here all by myself.

"I'm not feeling good today, Ms. Johnson," I managed to whisper, trying to conceal the storm of emotions brewing within me.

"Do you have a fever?" she inquired, her caring eyes fixed on me, "Should I take you to the nurses' office."

That was the easy lie I chose to tell, as the truth felt too daunting to reveal. Actually, there was no way they would take me in with them to play. But why do they always treat me this way? What did I do to deserve their constant teasing? I try to be nice to everyone, but it seems like nothing I do is ever good enough.

When I was little, I was diagnosed with something like refractive esotropia. Long story short, I had difficulty focusing on objects at a certain distance. The doctors said that I'd need to wear glasses for some time, until my eyes naturally get better. No one in my class wore glasses, so it made me stand out among them, and also make them pick on me just because I look different.
I didn't want to wear them at first, but my parents insisted, saying that just wearing glasses wouldn't make me a target for their jokes and laughter.

But they were wrong.

I wish they could see beyond the thick lenses and see the real me—the girl who just wants to be accepted and included like everyone else.

When we're in class, they whisper and giggle, casting glances in my direction. It's as if they have a secret language meant to keep me out. They form cliques, and I'm always left on the outside, wondering what it feels like to belong.

The worst part is when they call me names. "Four-eyes" and "nerd" seem to be their favourites. Each time they say those words, it stings like a thousand tiny needles pricking my heart. I want to stand up for myself, but it's hard when I feel so small and defenseless against their hurtful words.

I couldn't tell anyone. It's hard to tell someone something like that. Not my parents, or even my own parents. No one. It's not easy to be able to tell someone that you're being bullied. But even then, one person stood up for me. She was Mary. She was in the same class as me, and also lived next door.

When no one would talk to me, or come play with me, she would be there. Reaching her hand towards me. Just by being there beside me and talking to me made it possible to live through it all. But deep down, I felt ashamed. Ashamed at my pitiful self. At myself for being so weak. And scared... scared that she might not play with me any more.

But I desperately tried to hide it by pretending to be fine. And that made me even more ashamed, and embarrassed. One day, after classes were, everyone used a marker to scribble things on my desk. 

"Fool..." 

"Nerd..." 

"Glasses..." 

"Four-eyes..." 

"Idiot..."

"Geek..." 

"Goggle-eyes..."

"Spectacle face..."

There was no end to it.

"Iva?" Mary walked in the room, calling my name. She saw me standing beside my desk, noticing everything written all over it.

She rushed towards me, while I desperately tried hiding it by leaning over my desk. My voice was dreary, as I was about to break into tears. "It's nothing, Mary."

"It's alright, Iva. I'll help you. Let's clean it together."

"Please, Mary, leave me alone."

"No, Iva. I won't. Let me help you."

"Just leave me. What do you think you are, acting all righteous! I know you mock me behind my back, laughing at the pathetic loser I am. I don't need your pity. Just get out of my sight!"

"Iva... but I-"

I didn't want to hear anything from her. I didn't feel anything, or even think, when I blurted out those words. I saw the tears in her eyes, as she turned away and left, shutting the door. After some time passed, and everything around me finally felt like they had fallen asleep, I too fell on my desk, crying. In the end, I pushed her away too. In reality, I didn't want her to hate me, and I felt relieved by her words. I'd wanted to crumble down upon her, and let my tears run dry."

I don't know why I'm recalling any of this. I thought I'd lived past them, and was strong enough not to crumble to those memories ever again. But here I am, and they still come back to haunt me.

After walking me back home, Alan left, while I walked back inside. I'd asked him in for a cup of tea, but he refused. The truth was, the silence inside my home felt frightening to me. I'd wanted him to stay a bit more with me. Maybe it's my fault too. I was the one to first push him away from me. Or I might be thinking it in the wrong way all the way through. Maybe he's just letting me be by myself, so that I can sort out all my feelings.

That day, on the hospital rooftop, I was really glad that he stayed there with me, lending me his shoulder so that I could let my emotions break me, as he held onto me. I was really happy, Alan. I was really happy, that you didn't leave me this time. You stayed there for me. 

I loved the warmth I felt as he held onto me. I'd totally forgotten that again. That warmth. If anything, Alan broke into my dark world again, casting the once familiar warm glow at me. And he stayed. He saved me, again.

"It might start raining again..." I thought, "I should've given him an umbrella."

I turned back, grabbing an umbrella from the stand. But it wasn't the umbrella that I wanted to give him. I wanted to call him out again, wishing that this time he would stay. But as my hands were about to turn the doorknob, that's when I heard them. Alan was talking to someone, and the other voice was too familiar for me not to notice.

It's Noah's voice.