Chapter One
Chapter 1
As the lone soul sitting at this dark wood table meant for four, I find the other students glance between me, the open seats and the otherwise crowded library; I then see a number of them sit by the wall or disappear into the crowd. I take note that Alec is part of that few who sit on the floor, laughing at the joke of a friend. Alec talked to me on my first day but has avoided me since, Iḿ not surprised but I won't pretend it didn hurt. Every time I've gone up in grade, changed schools or a new neighbor moved in I get this little bubble of hope, like it'd be different with them. Alec was the latest in a string of broken unformed friendships.
It's so crowded because all of the seniors have a huge project due by the end of the semester. All the English teachers have elected specific days for their classes to use the library but due to a miscommunication both my teacher, Mr. Casstor, and Ms. Lenmar's classes are combined here for the class period. A lot of the students huddle together, fanning themselves, grumbling and muttering about everyone around them. It's not much different to me however, since I'm typically left alone anyway. I'm the well-off new kid who got transferred here due to 'mental health issues' so the rumors don't make me Mr. Popular among my new classmates. It's almost better than the private school, at least here my off brand clothes fit in just fine. My mom isn't rich but she makes good money and is an excellent saver so I've never had to struggle the way some of these kids have, because of that, there isn't a ton I can relate to them on. Not only do I not have any common ground with the students here, it got out why I'm here, my psychosis makes it even more difficult to make friends. It looks bad when you introduce yourself to someone who isn't even there, which is exactly what happened the day I transferred over. I was sitting at a lunch table and saw these good looking students walk up, I remember thinking they were strong looking and they wore what I thought to be football gear, the guys were near my table, their lips were moving but I couldn't hear what they said over the collective student chatter of the lunch room, the blond man in the front stopped and looked at me perplexed. I assumed it was because I was new so I had reached my hand out to greet him as I introduced myself but he walked right through me and disappeared along with his group. Everyone saw, sure not all of them paid attention but those who didn't see it first hand heard about it and by the next day, no one even attempted to talk to me again, including Alec.
I tap my pencil against my notebook, trying to tune out the chatter and gossip, my social isolation is visible to everyone at this point. It makes me feel like a spectacle despite the eyes that dart away from me. I focus on the tapping of my pencil as my heartbeat drums in my ears from embarrassment and anxiety, the book in my hand is nothing more than a meaningless prop. The moments drag on excruciatingly and I force myself to breathe deeply though there doesn't seem to be enough. It's like it won't end, my chest tightens and releases painfully over and over as the attack worsens, I cup my hands around my face and place the book down as if I am slouching over to read it as my tears burn through my eyes. I curse and mentally scold myself, why the hell am I like this? Just get control, just get control! I can hear my breath start to wheeze and I choke it back trying to go unnoticed though I can't seem to become quiet enough despite the loudness of the library. Just as I thought I was going to lose whatever control I had over my facade, a wooden plank with the words 'HALL PASS' and Mr. Casstor's feet walking away like the sound of booming thunder pinpointing my location to everyone who may not have been looking.
I quickly grab the pass before anyone else can see it but when I do I feel a crumpling square paper, I glance at it but already know what it is, a pass directing me to the counselors office. I walk quickly, hiding both in my jacket as I scurry out of the library with my head down, my heart beating like rapid gunfire. My footsteps are agonizingly loud in the empty hallways as I frantically hunt for the nearest bathroom. Alone in the hall,I try to keep from vomiting by playing a small game with the tiles, step in one, step over one, only in the shape of a lightning bolt. This silly task helps take some of the pressure off while I focus on the tiles.
By the time I spot a bathroom, some resemblance of normality has returned to me, though my blood still pounds in my ears. I turn into the empty bathroom and pass the urinals to the one stall in the back. I lock myself into the ugly green and white cell and sit on the disgusting floor with my back to the corner. I hate the smell in here but I feel safe within the flimsy doors and scribbled on white chalky walls. I take my headphones out of my pocket and shove them in my ears, I set my phone to play my 'anxiety' playlist with all the music that makes me feel calm. Music drowns out the world and keeps me from thinking about what I must have looked like back in class.
Several songs pass before I leave the stall, sweaty and clammy to look at my reflection in the unappealing mirror, its glass scratched and reflections hazy. My features are rather generic, messy brown hair and grey eyes, though some would call them blue, I don't consider them bright enough for the classification. My eyes can't be compared to the ocean or the sky, they are more like a chilling mist or illuminated fog, currently resembling vortexes made of ice crystals. No, my eyes are not a calm blue, they are a raging desperate grey. I throw cold water on my face to try to quicken the return of my natural color as I seem to have paled. A couple of shaky deep breaths release any water droplets that remain on my face as I walk out into the hallways towards the councilors 'ALWAYS AN OPEN DOOR FOR OPEN COMMUNICATION' sign that always hangs on the closed door.
"Was it the people again, Rayen?" The kind eyed counselor asks as she leans into her desk on her elbows. Ms. Lopez has been the school counselor for ten years, though I've only been seeing her for about 6 months in addition to my regular team of physiatrists, therapists and the like.
"No," I answer the question she was really asking, which is undoubtedly, ' Was it the delusions?' My answer was truthful, thinking back I don't think I had any interactions or embarrassing moments yet today stemming from a specific delusion, but I was affected by the normal people- and the way they avoid me like I may infect them, like who I am is something to be ashamed of. "I just felt a bit...ostracized... by my peers." I say this the way I've said it before, practiced and every word paired with a tone I've used since I was small, a mature tone. One that says 'hey I am calm and deliberate, not aggressive or hysterical at all.' This tone and specifically chosen words help make her feel like I'm communicating and not resisting her efforts, it tells her there is no need to get my mom involved now. I try to dismiss what happened, steer the conversation away from my mental illness. Though my attempt doesn't fully regress Ms. Lopez into a relaxed state, she still leans on her elbows the way she does when she is using her analytical skills to assess the situation.
"Oh? And how did they make you feel that way, was there anyone specific causing you trouble or saying things?" She chooses her words just as carefully as I did, with Ms. Lopez it's like a war to see who drops their guard first.
Either I convince her that I'm fine (enough) or she convinces me to let out all the things I keep hidden. My goal is to undermine her job without actually rebelling or refusing to participate. I can't tell her all the things I see or think or feel, if I do she'll recommend Club Sunshine but the results are the same if I aggressively refuse 'treatment' so I walk the fine middle line.