Mary Obasi came out of the store with her hood up and her head down. In her right hand was a plain white plastic carrier bag. Her left hand was wrapped around her phone and stuffed into her hoodie pocket. She was not a tall girl, and hunching made her appear smaller.

All these things – hood, head, hunch – were intended to prevent the girls across the road from noticing her as she left the shop and headed for home. But the bell above the door drew their attention as Mary stepped out, and, although they could not see her face, they saw her sleek black hair, which the hood could not contain and which fell almost to her waist, and at once knew who she was.

Mary picked up the pace, but it was no use. The girls cackled at the sight of her, and then they were on the move. Desperate not to seem afraid, Mary did not run, as a voice inside was urging her to. Nor did she leave the path and head into the trees. The thought of being chased through the woods by these girls was her nightmare. Literally.

“Hey, bitch, wait up.”

It was the low-pitched call of Paige. As the largest and meanest of the girls, she was the leader. She didn’t run. Mary wasn’t sure she could run. She shouted, letting her friends exert the energy.

A hand grabbed Mary’s shoulder and yanked her back. Even before being brought face to face with her unpleasant classmate, she knew from the pale skin and red nails that it was Ruby. At Ruby’s right shoulder was Samaya. Paige was still making her way towards the newly formed trio.

“Why’d you rush off,” said Ruby. “You must have seen us when you came out of the shop.”

“Didn’t you want to say hello?” said Samaya.

Ruby affected a mock pout. “We’re hurt.”

There was nothing to be said to these awful girls. Mary’s mother had always told her that bullies got bored if you ignored them long enough. Maybe that would have worked if Mary was an ordinary victim, chosen at random. That wasn’t the case. Three days ago, Mary had done something that ensured Paige wouldn’t leave her alone until she decided Mary had paid for her crime.

Despite knowing nothing she could say would extricate her from these girls, Mary could not prevent her lips from opening and the desperate words from slipping out.

“Sorry, Dad’s expecting me home. ”

“Just your dad?” Ruby said. “Oh, that’s right, your mum ran off because you’re such an annoying bitch. Is it true your dad’s a drunk?”

“Maybe that’s what’s in the bag,” said Samaya. “Few bottles for Daddy.”

Both girls looked towards the bag, and Mary took an instinctive step back. She had no booze. At fourteen, no one would serve her. Even so, she felt a jab of shame because the items were for her father. She had offered to get them to stop him from going himself, having seen the car keys in his hand and smelt the vodka on his breath. The worst thing was that while Mary worried about her father’s safety if he drove drunk, her biggest concern was what would happen if he arrived without incident and the whole village found out what a state he was in. She hated herself for that.

“Leave her alone.” Paige had arrived, sweating although she had only walked and smiling like a hungry cat who has stumbled upon a bird with a broken wing. “It’s wrong of us to keep her. She needs to go home and get ready for her next date, don’t you, Not-So-Virgin-Mary?”

Three years. That was how long Mary had shared a school – and plenty of classrooms – with these awful girls. They’d never been kind to her and had called her various horrible nicknames over that time. Most were unimaginative, some were racist, and all were hurtful. But the moniker of Not-So-Virgin-Mary was new, and Mary thought perhaps it hurt the most of all. Paige had come up with it, part of her revenge for what Mary had done. It was cruel, but what was worse was what went with it. Mary had already heard the whispers and knew Paige and her friends had been spreading the word: Mary Obasi is easy. Mary Obasi is a slut. One or two guys had even asked her about it. That always made her want to cry. The one mercy was that it did not yet seem to have spread beyond the teenage population. Soon enough, it would, and then it would reach her father, and she would die of misery. The joke was that, although none of it was true – she was a virgin and had only had one kiss – she still could not bear the thought of him finding out.

The truth, she supposed, was that she feared he would believe it. And that it would make him hate her. That he would say the words that might destroy her.

I always knew you’d let me down. Just like her.