I was the dreaded “new girl”. I know there are bigger problems than moving, but still, it sucks. my old school was not that bad, a few people said hi, and at lunch, I was more than happy to sit by myself and code. I liked River Valley High School, a key word liked. 

“Move loser” An icy voice jolts me away from my computer and into the eyes of the girl I would soon loath.

“Ah, you must be my mean girl,” I say. 

“I said move loser your table is over there” she points to the trash cans

“You need to broaden your vocabulary, how about imbecility or deadbeat,” I say, it's fun to fight back.

“Ugh,” She then proceeds to call me something other than a loser, a not so nice word.

“I’m going to say it one more time deadbeat” she stretches out the word, ‘move,”

“Well, if you insist,” I say happily as I stand and walk away.

People break into laughter and applause. I, Alina Hensley, am no longer the “new girl” I am the “brave girl.” When my 15 minutes of fame are up Callie proceeds to make life a living hell. I am trapped in a raging inferno begging to get out. 

Callie and her cronies expanded their vocabulary every word aimed at me. 

“Worthless”

“Garbage”

“Fat” 

“Ugly”

“Deformed”

“Dumb”
“Freak”

“Loser”

“Why do you even bother”

“Die”

“The world would be better if you do it”

“Die”

These were the things they said; the things I said to myself. I told my parents I was fine. my grades dropped. I didn’t pray at night. I couldn’t sleep. I would come out of bed with bags under my eyes dragging me down slower, slower. . . I slowly put on my black turtleneck sweatshirt and walked over towards the mirror to splash water on my face. I wished this was a dream and with each splash, I would wake up to a perfect world without Callie, with caring parents where I was rich and perfect and this was all a twisted, brutal nightmare but after splashing cold water on my face and looked in the mirror all I saw was a worthless piece of crap who doesn’t deserve anything. My computer hadn’t been touched in weeks and my once joyful hobby of coding was now a memory. This was perfect, my time.

I should hate her..right? Then why did I want to hurt myself so badly? Why didn’t I fight back like in the cafeteria? Why would people be so cruel? Why? Why? Why? Why me? I deserve this if I didn’t then it wouldn’t be me. Simple logic, complex future. No one noticed the bruises or cut marks. They didn’t care, they didn’t notice. I became “that weird girl with depression”

My parents did not take me to a therapist, they said I didn’t need one. They said I was fine. look at me. I started sneaking out and smoking, just so they would acknowledge I needed help, that they would punish or talk to me, but never did. They kept going on work trips and I told myself that would be the night but it never was. Callie was angry she continued slurring her way to the top of my hate list. She had power and rage. And isn’t that what we all want? 

I talked to the guidance counselor at my school, but she had so many kids come in every day so the only advice she gave me was “Talk to your bully and if it gets worse talk to the principal”. Did she think this was middle school or something? If only she knew. If only she knew how bad Callie was If only she knew the principle was the mom of Callie’s best friend, who loved her like a daughter. If only she knew Callie wouldn't stop.

“We got a call from Ms. Hopkins, saying you have been missing class,” Dad said sternly.

“We are so disappointed in you,” Mom adds

Are they ignoring my bruised face, they knew all this time and choose to ignore it. Are these my parents?

“This is not what we expect from you young lady” My father's eyes refuse to meet mine.

“LOOK AT ME!” I yell and every single emotion I have been holding inside me for the past few months comes bursting out inside one perfect scream, I go up the stairs to my room and slam the door enclosing myself in its four walls. No one comes to comfort me. I hear my parents downstairs discussing my punishment. I tiptoe down the stairs and silently grab a knife and head to my room. This is what I have been scared to do. I’ll show them. That I’m no chicken.

I wake in a hospital bed, no flowers by my side. a counselor is by my side. A little late for that, huh mom? A tear falls before I even realize I was crying, and the counselor nods, so I tell her everything. I’m in counseling for the next week and Dr. Smith is exactly the person I want to be when I grow up. She is so kind and beautiful, she must think I’m crazy. After I am done, I avoid Callie like the plague and she doesn't go out of her way to find me. She can’t know. Nobody knows about my suicide attempt.

Callie leaves me alone and before I know it it’s summer vacation. One day I was at a park listening to music and looking at the phone of the girl next to me. The girl is on TikTok and just as she's about to change to the next video I fix my eyes on the girl she is watching. . . Callie. 

“What’s that girl's account,” I blurted at the girl.

The girl next to me looks startled then clicks a button. “Callie. Miller,” she says.

“She goes to my school and I want to follow her” I try to explain hastily.

“Ok,” the girl returns to her phone.

I sprint out of the park and d when I reach home and whip out my phone and download the app. I start commenting on her videos.

“Garbage”

“Fat” 

“Ugly”

“Deformed”

“Dumb”
“Freak”

“Loser”

“Why do you even bother”

I use an anonymous account. I spend hours in my room writing comments until I get banned, no biggie. I make another account and spend a little time hacking the app so I can’t get banned anymore. I told you all that coding paid off. Iḿ about to drift off when I decided to open up Callie’s bio. OMG, a link to all her social media accounts. Jackpot. I stay up all night commenting.

She deserves this. Right? She is a horrible person. Right? This is what she gets. She deserves to die. Callie Miller is an awful person, but am I a horrible person for doing the same thing? No this is different. Stop crying Alina you’re such a baby, just keep writing.

“You look like puke cause that’s what you make me want to do”

“DELETE YOUR ACCOUNT SO I DON'T HAVE TO LOOK AT YOU”

“Whale”

“Trash”

“E.T.”

“Your face gives me nightmares”

When I woke up the next day Callie.Miller blocked me. No biggie I make another account.

I scroll through her Instagram prepared to type my next insult when I realize something. Somebody's knocking at my door.

“We are looking for an Alina Hensley,” A voice says.

Mom picks her face through the small crack in the door, “My daughter?”

“Yes,” the man says, “Police” he flashes a badge and a search warrant.

He leaves my mom at the door. Oh crap. I delete my history and all my social media accounts, toss my computer across the room and plop on my bed pretending to read a book 

“Alina Hensley, you are a possible suspect in the case of the disappearance of Callie Miller,”

What? The words echo around my mind 

“No.” I try to sound firm, but my tone fails me.

He grabs my computer.

“Evidence, I suppose,” I joke

The police are at my house for the next few days. They find all my internet accounts trolling Callie and my diary which has every account in every gruesome detail of what Callie did. Great now I have a motive and they know I’m a cyberbully. 

Apparently Callie’s room was ransacked and her parents found a note not in her daughter’s handwriting. Her parents called the police when he went through her computer found she was being bullied online and they traced it to me. I twirl my fingers and close my eyes, hoping when I opened them I would be dreaming, but, yeah you guessed it, my life is real. 

My parents left with the police, they are going to find me a lawyer for court next week after they come home. I look in the mirror remembering just a few months ago how I saw nothing and now I see dead meat. I got in the shower, unable to distinguish whether I was crying or the water was pouring down my face when I saw my blood-red eyes in the mirror  I knew the answer.

What if I made Callie leave, what if she got a friend to write the note and ran away..No she deserved it...right? Yes, she is an awful twisted ugly stupid piece of garbage and she deserves to die over and over and over and over again each time more painful than the last.

“JUST SHUT UP!” My voice echoes and lingers in the house.

I put on clothes and lay in my bed. My fingernails dig into my skin. I want to do it, I want to hurt, I deserve it, but what about my parents. Ugh, don’t be stupid they only care about their reputation, not me. My thoughts are interrupted by a banging on the door. I clench my stomach. It feels like I'm on a rollercoaster, falling, but I’ll never touch the ground. The door bangs again, maybe my parents got home early.

As I open the door I wipe the tears. I swing the door open, Callie’s parents. They’ve been crying too.

“Hi,” I say awkwardly, what do you say to a missing girl’s parents?

“Alina, we are aware of your situation and I want to ask…” Callie’s mom says, “If you know where the daughter is?”

“Ma’am, it’s true, for the past few months I have been bullying your daughter, but I was about to stop” my voice slips, I know deep down that I never intended to stop.

“I have absolutely no idea where she is,” I say, this time telling the truth.

“But that’s not why we are here,” Callie’s father says, moving the conversation along, “Did you and my daughter ever communicate over a letter?” 

“Letter?” I say, startled. I bet even if I said the word “letter” at school Callie would have called me a grandma with no life and no friends, accompanied by a punch to the stomach.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Her father says.

“Well, we found a letter addressed to you in Callie’s room. It was under her nightstand” Callie’s mom sniffles as she said her daughter’s name, “And since it was addressed to you, I feel like you should read it”

“Why not give it to the police?” I ask

“Because it was meant for you, but if it even hints at the location of our daughter please call us and the police” Callie’s dad pleads.

He drops a letter in my hand and marches away and his wife follows. I quickly notice that my mouth is wide open, I close it and march upstairs to my room, clutching the letter. I tear the envelope open and begin to read aloud.

Dear Alina,

I hope this letter finds you well but knowing the severity of things I know it won’t. I have some explaining to do. Alex was my brother, we had an unbreakable bond, when he was 16 Alex started going into mood swings and my parents took him to see a therapist only to find out he had bipolar disorder. He ran away at 17, when I was 11, it was a big case around here for around a year, but then for some unknown reason the police dropped it and my parents were devastated. I have never been the same since. When I saw you at the lunch I saw Alex, I saw the same dirty dyed hair, the same beat-up sneakers, the same smirk, you were coding and Alex loved to code, you were wearing an AC/DC t-shirt, which Alex had always owned. When I looked at you I saw an opportunity to express all the hate and the pain that I felt toward my brother for leaving me and ruining our family, he used to hit me and said if I told mom and dad he would do it again, but he always did it again anyway. I know what you are thinking, but my brother is not a bad guy, he is one of the sweetest people I know, it was just he could get violent sometimes, he was complex. I know I bullied you and I know saying sorry will not be enough, but I am so so so so so so so sorry, Alina. I know you tried to kill yourself when you were out of school for a week because you had the same sullen eyes my brother had when he tried to do it and you looked like the life had been sucked out of you just like me when I attempted to kill myself when the police dropped the case when I was 13. I know my past does not wipe away my screw up and I know by the time you read this. You see, you were not the only person on my social media, I had found my brother online, he lives in New York City and he and his friends are wanted criminals, he tried to get me to move there, but I refused. I promised the day he left I would never let him hurt me again. He kept pressuring me and his last message to me was, I’m coming, sis. I can’t go to the police, they were no help to my brother so why would they assist me? This is my destiny Alina, I deserve this, but I don’t want you to take the blame for something that you did not do, if you have not checked there is another letter in the envelope, which tells the police I ran away myself. I just want you to see this letter so you know that I, Callie Anna Miller am truly sorry.

Sincerely,

Callie

Sure enough there is another letter in the envelope, I can’t even believe what I just read. So many thoughts are circling around my brain, but only one is clear, I have to help. I hide the letter and bury my face into my pillow and cry until my parents get home and I pretend to sleep.

The next day I tell my parents I need to go for a walk outside to get fresh air before the trail next week. The truth is I need to get fresh air to think about if I should show her parents the real leader or the fake one saying she ran away. I try to make a pros and cons list in my head but it' no use. I kick the stale cement in frustration. Just a few months ago I was a new girl at a normal high school. Now I’m a girl who might go to prison. Did I mention they are trying me as an adult? I know I won’t survive a day in prison. But won’t it all be sorted out if I hand over the fake letter. No, Callie will be in danger. Callie herself told me not to show anybody the real letter. 

I head to the library to go do coding on a computer that has always calmed me down in the past. I reach the liar and the sweet wonderful AC hits me and I instantly feel better. I sit down at the computers and see my looooong list of bookmarks and as I try to navigate them and search for my scratch bookmark I see my Instagram and I don't know why but my finger glides across the mouse pad to click it. As I log on I see I forgot to delete my account, when the police came. I sit up straight and see I have one new message. I click it to see it from someone named CAM. 

CAM: Hi

Me: Hi

CAM: Do you know who this is 

Me: No

CAM: Good

Me: ???

CAM: Look at my name and figure it out

Me: Sorry, I don’t know anyone named cam

CAM: That’s not my name 

Me: OMG just tell me your name like unless you are a fugitive there is no need for me not to know your name so stop being annoying like are u 5 or something

CAM: Sorry

Me: Me too that was harsh

CAM: I need your help

Me: I can’t help if I don’t know u

CAM: You can’t know me

Me: y

CAM: Because you wouldn’t help me if you knew

I knew who CAM was the second I saw her name, I didn’t say it because she obviously didn’t want me to know. CAM was an acronym for Callie Anna Millier. Callie’s mistake was putting her middle name in her letter, and I, a natural sleuth figured out her identity quickly. CAM needed my help. She needed me to be at Ramses Park at noon. I headed there unsure of what to expect, of course, Callie herself was not going to meet me, but if she wasn’t then who was?

I emailed my parents from the library computer that I was grabbing lunch out since I ran into some friends and would come home a bit late. I couldn’t text them since all my electronics had been confiscated. I headed to the park where I sat on a bench, noting every person that passed by to see if Callie sent them. Finally, at 12:04 a man in his 20s sat next to me and gave me a bag. Suddenly I felt like a drug dealer and I felt my life flash before my eyes, and I don’t even know why. The man walked away and I peered inside the bag to see a burner phone. There was only one contact on the phone: CAM. CAM had already sent a text.

CAM: Okay, I haven’t been clear enough with you Alina, I’m Callie, and based on our conversations this morning I don’t believe that you have given the police either letters (you seemed conflicted). I need your help. I think I still have a chance of leaving New York and I got you this burner phone so you wouldn’t always be sneaking off to use somebody else's computer. I need you to show the police the letter that says I ran away.

Me: Wait..what Callie you said you needed help.

Callie: I was wrong about my brother, he is a changed man

Me: You said he was a criminal

Callie: I need you to say that I ran away

Me: I promised you, parents, I would tell them your whereabouts 

Callie: Please Alina I’m begging you 

Me: Send me a picture of yourself

Callie: What????

Me: I want proof that I’m not messaging with a beat-up girl or her messed up brother

Me: Actually no send a video saying “I am the Callie” so I know you didn’t send me a pic that was already taken

Me: Or you could facetime me 

No reply. I waited until the next morning where I got a little notification that CAM/Callie had blocked me. I rushed to the police station with the letter in hand. My parents heard me slam the door and went running after me.

“Alina!” my dad called out 

“Stop,” my mom said clearly tired 

I stopped and obeyed their commands and then yelled “CALL CALLIE’S PARENTS AND HAVE THEM COME TO THE POLICE  STATION. YOU GUYS COME TOO!” before I picked up the pace and ran until I reached the heavy doors of the police station. 

“Ah, Ms. Hensley,” an officer said, ``I realized he was the same officer who came to my house and startled my parents. I thrusted the letter into his hands.

“Read” I painted out.

He opened the envelope and read: “Dear Alina, I hope this letter finds you well”

The rest of what happened was a blur, they read my texts to the so-called Callie and her parents confirmed that the letter was in Callie’s handwriting.  The NYPD was contacted and a week later Alex Miller was found.

A week later they found Callie’s body. No, I don't want to talk about it.

I was asked to give a speech at Callie’s funeral, but I turned it down my exact words were

“Someone who knew her better should do it”

I felt like we were extremely close, but still an ocean apart. And all I want to say is I, Alina Regan Hensley, forgive you Callie Anna Miller with my whole entire heart.