School Reunion. Part One.

“You’ve got post Darling,” Chris said, coming back into the dining room with all the letters. He handed three to me. Two were bills, but one was from Lennarb School. My heart skipped a beat when I opened the envelope and saw the school’s address at the top of the letter. Lennarb School was my old school, and they were holding a reunion for the class of 2004 next week. I sighed, and put the letter down on the table, planning to chuck it in the bin when I’d finished my breakfast. I had no interest in going. Chris picked it up and read it.
“Oh, school reunion, eh? Going?”
I shook my head.
“Why not? Wouldn’t it be nice to see all your old school buddies again?”
I shot him a sarcastic look. “No. Not really.”
“Why’s that then?”
“Because I’ve got no old school buddies,” I answered. “I had no friends at that school.”
Chris looked startled. “What? None at all?”
“None whatsoever. Everyone in my year bullied me. That’s why I’m not going.”
“Oh Sweetheart.” Chris reached across the table and hugged me. Then he picked up the letter, and crumpled it. “Okay. Forget it. You don’t have to go. They can’t force you.”
But it seemed like they could. Over the next few days, I got more letters from my old school. They were all reminders, telling me where to go, and what time. I chucked all the letters away.
I hated it at that school, and had no intention of returning there. I hated everyone there, and everyone hated me. Everyday, I was the butt of some cruel joke they played on me. Like the time Maria Watson sneaked a dog turd in my school bag. Or when Katie Halloway threw a whole bottle of water at me, drenching me from head to foot. And then there was the time when Shirley Yessab came into the toilets when I did, waited until I’d finished, and when I came back out of the cubicle, she pushed me back, pushed my head down the toilet and flushed it. Why would I want to go back to socialise with these people for one more night? I hadn’t seen them for ten years, and I didn’t particularly want to see them again.
Chris never knew the extent of the bullying I went through. He knew I got bullied at school, just not how severe it was. I never really told him that I never had any friends. We met at college, and started dating, and we got married when we left college. We had one daughter, Tina, who was three. I worked in a charity shop, and was friends with everyone there. My life was happy, and I’d forgotten about my school life until I’d received the letter about the school reunion. Then my happy bubble burst.
When the third letter came through in the post, that was when Chris demanded I told him about the bullying I’d received. So I sat him down, and reeled off the names of the girls who picked on me, and the vicious jokes and pranks they’d played on me.
“…And you know that film “Carrie”? Where she goes to her prom and they dump pig’s blood on her? I was so scared that they were going to do something similar to me at our prom, that I didn’t even bother going to the prom.”
Chris gave me a hug to make me feel better. “Don’t go to the school reunion Char,” he said. “What are they going to do to you if you don’t? Arrest you?”
I smiled at Chris’s attempt to cheer me up.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Just keep chucking those letters away, if you get anymore.”

***
I was driving along in my car, listening to the CD my husband had brought me; the latest Pink album. I was on my way to meet my girlfriends at the local pub. There was a school reunion next week at our old school, and I wanted to know if Katie, Shirley and Amy-Sue knew about it. I also wondered if that bitch Char Irvell knew about it as well, and whether she was going to turn up. Probably not, she didn’t have the nerve to turn up at our prom.
I pulled into the pub’s car park, turned the ignition, and went inside. My friends were already here. They waved at me, and I joined them. Katie pushed a beer towards me.
“Hiya. You guys hear about the school reunion next week?”
“Oh yes,” Katie answered. “Are you going Maria?”
I nodded. “Be nice to catch up with the whole gang again. Haven’t seen anyone in ten years. It’s only us four knocking about now.”
“Do you think Char Irvell will turn up?” Amy-Sue asked.
I shrugged. “Who knows? She didn’t dare show up for our prom when we left school did she?”
“Such a shame,” Shirley sighed. “We were going to give her such a lovely goodbye present as well.”
We all giggled.
“Well we could give her a present if she does turn up at the reunion,” Amy-Sue said.
“Yeah, but what if she doesn’t turn up?” Katie asked. “We can’t have history repeat itself. Like when she didn’t turn up at the prom, and our present there went to waste.”
“First of all, we need to think of the present we’ll be giving her,” I answered. “And then we’ll need to think of some way that she’ll definitely turn up.”
“Why don’t we keep sending her reminders about the reunion all week?” Shirley suggested. “Then she’ll get so fed up that she’ll have to come along.”
“That’s a good idea,” Amy-Sue said. “But we haven’t seen her in years.”
“She works at one of the charity shops in town,” Shirley said. “She served me in there the other day. I don’t think she recognised me though.”
“We could sneak in there one day and steal her info,” Katie said.
I sat there listening to my friends planning how to find out where the Irvell bitch lived, all the while formulating a little plot of my own. What we were going to give the Irvell bitch once she turned up at the reunion. At the prom, we were going to throw rotten meat at her, but of course she never showed up. We couldn’t do the rotten meat thing again. If we did, maybe history would repeat itself, as Katie put it. We needed to think of something else to do.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Amy-Sue cut into my thinking, startling me.
“Huh? Oh, just thinking about the present we’ll give the Irvell bitch if she shows her face at the reunion,” I smiled. “We can’t give her rotten meat again.”
“No,” Amy-Sue said. “It’s like an omen, or something.”
Then suddenly, Shirley squealed. “I’ve got it!” She leaned over and whispered into my ear.
I smiled as I listened. I liked Shirley’s idea…