Heroes 1 - Bullies 0
Nathalie. Age 11. San Pablo, CA

It was 7:30 AM on a Monday morning. The sun was rising, birds were chirping, and my alarm clock was screaming at me.

“Ugh,” I said as I shut off my alarm clock. “Another day of bullying.”

I got out of bed and changed into a crop top, high-waisted pants, and black Converse, and I curled my hair. I walked downstairs and saw my mom cooking breakfast.

“What are you making?” I asked my mom.

“I’m making pancakes, with bacon, and with eggs.”


“Take a seat. Breakfast is ready.”

As I took my seat, Mom placed my plate in front of me. When I finished eating, I grabbed my backpack and headed to school. When I got to school, I went to my locker and grabbed my books for first class.

When I closed my locker, Jessica, the most popular girl in school, was leaning against her locker. Her eyes seemed to be saying, “GIVE ME WHAT I WANT!” So I gave her my $20 lunch money. Then she walked away.
Why does she always bully me? What have I ever done to deserve this? What did I do wrong? These questions kept running through my head.

Moments later, I walked to my English class and sat down on my seat. Carly, my best friend, sat next to me.

“Hey,” Carly said.

“Hey,” I said sadly.

“Why are you sad?”


“She asked for your lunch money, huh?”


“Did you give it to her?”


“Why would you do that?”

“If I didn’t, she would’ve posted fake rumours about me on Instagram and Twitter. She might have even hit me if I didn’t gave her the money.”

“You don’t know how much I hate her.”


Carly and I walked out of our English class. When we were heading to our math class, I noticed people staring at me. Some of them were even laughing. I was wondering why. I kept feeling my phone vibrating in my back pocket, which meant that somebody was urgently trying to reach me. I took my phone out of my high-waisted pants and I noticed an Instagram notification. Somebody had tagged me in a photo. I clicked on it and saw a picture of me in my Dora PJs.

“Oh my God,” I said.

“What?” Carly asked.

“Jessica posted a picture of me in my Dora PJs.”

“Let me see the picture.”

I showed Carly the picture. She took my phone away and was reading the comments. Two minutes later she gave me my phone back.

“She posted it twenty-five minutes ago and it already has 187 likes,” I said.

“The picture also has 153 comments,” Carly said.

“I’m going to read the comments.”



“Trust me, you would not like to read them.”

“Why not?”

“The reason why I don’t want you to read them is because they’re all mean and disgusting comments.”

“I don’t care. I’m going to read them whether you like it or not.”

I ran to the restrooms with my phone in my hand. I got inside a stall and sat down on the toilet. I went on Instagram and started to read the comments. They were saying:

“She’s seventeen and still acting like a child”

“Just because you’re wearing adorable PJs doesn’t mean that you’ll look adorable in them.”

“She thinks she’s adorable, but trust me, sweetheart, you aren't”

And a bunch of other mean and disgusting comments.

I stormed out of the restrooms and saw Jessica talking with her group. I walked towards her and was getting ready to tell her something.

“Why would you post that?” I asked.

“Because I wanted to.”

“Why do you do this to me?”

“Because you’re the one I want to pick on.”

“You’re a horrible person.”


When I got home, I lay down on my bed and looked through Instagram. My notifications were still blowing up. I looked at the picture again and it has 507 likes and 287 comments. I started to cry into my pillow.

“Sweetie, it’s time for din-” My mom stopped after she saw that I was crying. “Why are you crying?” my mom asked, and she came and sat down next to me, rubbing my back.

“Nothing,” I said and sat up and wiped my tears.

“Why are you saying nothing, when it’s actually something?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Cause then it will become even worse.”

“Please tell me.”

That’s when I told her everything what Jessica has done to me.

“Tomorrow morning I’m going to talk to the principal and quit all of this bullying,” my mom said.

“Thank you, Mom”


“Mr. Francisco, may I talk to you?” my mom asked.

“Yeah, sure. Come in.”

We walked in and sat down on the chairs.

“What can I help you with?” Mr. Francisco asked

“Well, my daughter Casey is getting bullied.”

“I cannot allow bullying in this school! I’m going to make an assembly to stop this.”

And that’s what he did, and ever since then I haven’t been bullied by anyone. I learned that if you talk to somebody about what you’re going through, he or she might help you get through it or get rid of it. Bullying is now stopped and now I’m free.  

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