I walked down the all-too-familiar hallway. 43, 44, 45...

The classical music, the white walls, the nurses walking by-I have been accustomed to all of this.

"Max! Max! Come on in sweetie!"

"Hello Ms. Walters," I stepped into room 50. The moment I took a step inside, it's like my whole world lit up. The smell of flowers and freshly baked cookies filled my nostrils. "I see Mrs. Sanders came by already."

Ms. Walters was one of nicest, sweetest elderly ladies here. Her daughter-Ms. Sanders- comes by almost every day to see her. Who wouldn't? She greeted everyone with a smile and always looked for the good in people.

"She left tulips-my favourite," she grinned widely, delicately touching the flower's leaves. Lost in thought-she frowned. "Bridget and Lisa didn't come. I haven't seen them in months. Oh honey-how have they been? Are they doing well in school?"

Lisa and Bridget Sanders are doing amazing in school. Slept with half the football team, bully people who are inferior to them, straight Cs-the list of their achievements goes on and on.

Maybe you should be more like them, my inner voice told me. I don't know if it's just the negative but practical side of me telling myself that, or society and the bullies (I do has a optimistic voice too). After a while, those voices just blur together until you lose track of whose is whose and what do I, Max, believe-and it consumes you. Then, it just becomes you and molds you into some insecure lunatic with an unknown voice inside her head.

Damn, I'm ranting.

"They're doing great," I offered her a smile, to reassure her; "everyone wants to be their friend." Not a lie, everyone does so they won't be worried about their target. But when they have me-why would they need to worry about that? And every guy just wants into their pants.

"That's excellent to hear. I haven't seen my granddaughters since my birthday," She said, attempting to lift herself out of bed. When she was too fragile and weak, I offered her some help and lifted her to her feet. "Thanks dear. Hey, did you happen to see Barney in the lounge?"

"Yeah, he's in there-yelling at technology, as per usual."

"That man will never get the 21st century. Unlike this hip cool grandma," she said shaking her hip a bit. She was just so adorable-I had to laugh. I grabbed her slippers and helped her slip them on. "Barney owes me a rematch in cribbage."

"Hey, maybe after I'm done giving a sponge bath to Ms. Owens-I'll come join you guys and show you how it's done," I grinned, letting her lean on me as we walked to where her walker was. "Good luck with the game."

"Good luck with your grandpa!" She called after me as I left her room and continued down the hallway. 51, 51, 53, 54, 55...

"Yo Grandpa!" I swung his door open. Room 56 at exactly 4pm. I've never missed a day.

"Don't you ever knock?" My grandpa mocked annoyance.

"What could you be doing that's so private?"

"I could be with a girl," he said, crossing his sill kind of muscular arms proudly.

"Grandpa-gross," I said wrinkling my nose.

"Your face is going to be stuck like that-"

"And besides," I said cutting him off, "you're 83. That ship has sailed...oh...about 20 years ago."

"What about you? Any luck with the boys? Any boyfriends I can meet? So I can make sure they treat my little girl well," he said, slipping on his shoes. He looked at my face and sighed sadly. He opened his arms and I walked into them, he always knew when I was sad. "Are they still bugging my Maximum?"

I nodded solemnly. Oh yeah- did I mention that I have 0 friends. I am pretty much the loser at my school-bullied everyday for being...well me.

You see, my parents are divorced. I lived with my mom, step father and half sister Ella (same mom) until I was 9. My mom got a call from my dad-my grandpa had cancer and the doctors gave him 2 years to live. He used to visit me every year but since he had cancer, he didn't come. So I decided to go to him and live with my dad, spend as much time possible with my grandpa.

I wasn't entirely depressed about leaving my mom and half-sister-I love them and all, my step father was just a terrible human being.

But I have to thank him. He taught me that in this wonderful world of ours-there are bad people. He was the first person to teach me this, and I was hoping the last too.

Until I moved here and went to school. For grade 4 and 5, it wasn't so bad. The bullying really started when I started middle school. Something about how my clothes were cheap and ugly or how I spent more time with my half brother than anyone else. Or maybe it's because I tried to befriend Lissa and Bridget the first day of sixth grade and they laughed in my face. Maybe it's because I tried hard in everything I do, but why bother doing something if you're not going to put 100 percent effort in it?

Well, I'm 16 now, and my grandpa is still with us today. Take that world.

Truth is-I need him. He holds me together. And when I started being teased and taunted, it's like the world said 'Hey this girl's life is shit, let her keep her grandpa until she doesn't need him anymore.'

But I will always need him.

I haven't told him the worse of it in fear of him worrying too much, but somehow-he knows. He just knows how bad it is.

I'm much closer to him than my own father, Jeb. Jeb's great and all but he works way too much, leaving me and Ari (my half brother) alone in our cheap bungalow.

We stayed like that and just...talked. I see him every day (I volunteer here as Happy Springs Nursing home) but we never run out of things to talk about. He's my best friend.

"C'mon, I'm hungry. Maybe you can sign me out and take me to McDonalds?" He asked, well, stated. One thing about my grandpa-he's not like most loving ones. He has quite the attitude.

"Well since you asked so nicely..."

"Grandpa, people are staring," I whispered, trying to get him not to laugh so loudly.

"Who cares? Let them watch me have fun with my granddaughter," he said taking his last bite of his burger. I studied him for a bit; he had nice hazel eyes like my father and was fairly pale from the nearly dying part but other than that, you couldn't tell he even had cancer. He laughed louder and joked more than me. Sometimes, it was as if he was just a naïve, innocent teenager who hasn't seen the world. And then other times he is very sagacious and you can tell this guy went through a lot. He is the strongest person I'm proud to know.

"Looks like Maxie found herself a friend," I heard Lissa's annoying voice whisper to Bridget, near our booth. "She probably had to pay him to hang with her. That's what hookers do."

"Usually you have to pay to see girls that undressed. Or maybe they didn't have time to change after their night job," my grandpa said loudly, no doubt so they can hear. They looked over and gave us a scowl and a look of surprise, no doubt confused that my grandpa said it.

I stifled my giggles. I would pay for this tomorrow at school but hey-why not live in the moment? To see an 80-something year old grandfather make fun of two teenage girls.

Lissa huffed loudly; I felt like I was sitting with Chuck Norris. No one could hurt me when I'm with my grandfather. Lissa and Bridget and their friends-they are only strong when no one stronger has challenged them.

I studied the popular group. You have Lisa and Bridget; sisters, red hair, green eyes, freckles, 'to die for' body, low grades, low cut shirts, high cut skirts, caked on makeup, queen bees of my high school.

Sam: green eyes, brown hair and plays soccer. He was my first friend in this town and we're best friends until grade 6.

Dylan: blonde surfer hair, Caribbean blue eyes and a male model. He and I had a thing in gr 9. We flirted and we're starting to become really good friends outside of school, I really liked him. Until Lisa confronted him about it then poof, he went back to being a dick.

Iggy: blind, strawberry blonde and pale blue eyes. He doesn't go out of his way to make my life hell-he never joins in on the teasing. Sometimes, he even leaves during it. He's currently dating Tess. A Lisa and Bridget wannabe.

And finally, Nick.

Nick was quiet. Nick was secretive. Nick was...Nick . I tried to be his friend once-but he rejected me and joined the popular crowd. You can tell he doesn't fit in though. He keeps to himself and only speaks when needed. Black hair, black eyes, and black clothes-you would think he's emo. But who even knows-I don't even think his so called 'friends' know anything about him.

He just came back to our small town last year. He left for two years ago to live with his aunt in New York. And when he came back-he was somehow even more mope-y than before. Angrier too.

I don't know what to say about him in regards to the bullying. He would not say anything but usually just nod and voice his agreement with whatever his group says. On the rare occasion, he would say something satanic and cruel. He's very observant so it makes his insults almost lethal because they held truth. That's what usually hurt me the most.

It wasn't just the popular crowd that hurt me, it was the other students. Populars think they're above everyone but the other kids? They think they are just above me. Which I don't get. If they are teased by the populars as well, shouldn't we band together? What makes them better than me? They watch and laugh and occasionally join in. I think I watch too many movies. No, I don't get shoved into lockers or have my lunch money taken (not that I would have any to begin with).

Back to reality.

The popular crowd left thankfully. Grandpa just looked at me like he was torn. Finally, he took a breath and asked what's been on his mind. "Why do you let them?"