One

A Chapter by ayn0nimus

As my so called enemies disappear, I feel no need to reconcile our differences. For they are gone permanently because of the battle. They are dead. And I have killed them.

I sit comfortably on the bathroom floor inside the last stall. I feel the icy floor and wall through my jeans and thin white t-shirt. A shiver runs up my spine quickly, anticipating the day’s close that I know will not come soon enough. Leaning my head against the wall I feel the cold sink into my scalp. I can detect the ridges between each tile. The smoothness of the grey tile and the rough concrete that separates each one. A deep breath. The strong scent of Lysol and bleach burns my nose until I decide to bury my head in my arms. My location on earth: Southridge High School, 179200 Baker Street, West Bridge, Michigan; science wing, 2^nd bathroom next to Mrs. Laney’s room, corner stall on the right. I hear the door swing open and the shuffle of feet makes my whole body tense. Can they see me? Do they know I’m here? My thoughts race, possible solutions rush into my mind: sit on the toilet, crouch standing on the toilet, stand in the corner, go out and face life…

I remain frozen in place and the footsteps are gone before my thoughts have completed. A sigh of relief escapes my lips and again my mind is wandering. I did not realize the day I started hating school, but it is clear now. I hate being here most of all. In this stall. It’s not even a choice. Honestly, where else could I be? Where else do I fit in? I have no desire to rejoin my old friends, nor do I wish for new ones, who will disappoint me as well. I have no choice but to isolate myself. Only then can I be myself �" which I still have not discovered. But even here, on this isle, I am regulated by their rules and regulations. I am not allowed to be isolated, lonely, or lost in public, because that attracts pity and awkwardness, which are forbidden in my world as a sign of weakness. So I must suffer this burden in silence. Rewind to the days where I did not hate my school, or fast forward to the moment when I am here no longer. The only interruption comes from the ringing school bell. I stand and brush my jeans off. Lunch is over but my stomach is growling. I take a Snickers bar out of my pocket and place it in a nook in the wall. The nook is so cleverly hidden that you’d only notice it if you had stared at the wall for over an hour, I’m sure. The Snickers bar fits perfectly. I’ll save it for tomorrow; I know I’ll be hungry.

Again my stomach growled, feeling pain and emptiness simultaneously. In the halls I walk swiftly, avoiding eye contact with anyone. The few ‘hellos’ I hear �" I ignore. I assume it was my mistake; they weren’t talking to me. Maybe it was their mistake �" for saying ‘hi’ to me. I entered my Calculus class over ten minutes late; still, I attempted to slip in unnoticed.

“Thank you for joining us, Nicole,” Mrs. Perkins chimed as she scribbled a problem on the board.

“You’re welcome,” I responded, taking my usual seat in the back row.

“Now that you’re here, may we begin, Ms. Gordon?” she asked, turning to face me. I painted a fake smile on my face and nodded eagerly, though I despised her for drawing so much attention to me. “Now does anyone know the limit of x as it approaches 3? I’ve written the problem here on the board.” It became painfully obvious that no one knew the answer, and I sunk down in my seat, hoping Mrs. Perkins would not decide to continue our conversation. “Nicole? Any guesses? I see there is nothing on your desk, so I assume you already know the answer. Am I right?” she spoke sweetly and I groaned loudly, so that the entire class could hear.

“Infinity?” I guessed, saying the first thing that came to mind.

“No. The limit does not exist,” she retorted, “maybe you’d know that if you came to class once in a while.” A low rumble of giggles and whispers erupted. Mrs. Perkins’ life purpose was to humiliate her students, but today was not the right day. Her back faced the class again, but I stood anyway. Smiles spread across the room as they anticipated my response.

“Your right, Miss Perkins,” I began, “if I came to class more often, I would know the answer. I can tell everyone else in class knew since, you know, we learn so much here.” I titled my head to the left, my fingertips just grazed the desk, placed there lightly and strategically. I leaned forward, putting weight on my hands as I continued. “And maybe if you were married, you wouldn’t be such a b***h.” Her jaw dropped to the floor.

“Excuse me?” she asked as her arms fell to her sides and her eyebrows raised.

“I didn’t stutter, Mrs. Perkins,” I spat.

“Ugh! Oh my! You, no… you! Get out of my class!” she screeched, pointing towards the door.

“That’s my punishment? Sound more like reward,” I mumbled, gathering my coat and bag.

“And detention!” she added, “today after school!”

“Nope,” I casually called over my shoulder.

“What did you say? Should I call the principle too? Have you suspended?” I paused mid-stride, spinning around.

“No, Miss Perkins, because I have therapy today after school. Can’t you tell? I’m crazy.” I walked out of class before she came up with a response. No, today was not the right day.

As I enter the hallway, I am shaken from my trance and returned to the state I reside in. School’s not over but I walk towards those glimmering green doors. They’ve been calling me all day and now I am too weak to ignore their cries. I want to taste that fresh air on my tongue, feel a cigarette between my lips. A smile is on my face for the very first time today. I almost finished a whole day �" that’s an accomplishment and this is my reward. Oh well, I’ll try again tomorrow. Or maybe not…who gives a f**k?

© 2010 ayn0nimus

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Featured Review

Tegon Maus

Hi

Interesting... your hunger comment is the most compelling. I have to wonder if it’s self imposed or a sign of neglect... perhaps a total lack of resources. The smart mouth and “Who gives a f**k?” attitude is typical teenage stuff. I’m not the demographic. I think if this is going to be a story... or book it will need to flow better. Maybe explain better or just hint at why you’re hiding out in the bathroom and why THIS ONE stall offers you a level of comfort the others don’t. Perhaps because of the loss of ‘old friends’.... BFF died in a car crash... long term boyfriend cheated on you with your sister... something to create an emotional thread to carry through to the end of the story. The ‘Bad girl’ thing will wear thin quickly and isn’t enough on it’s own to hold long term interest.

Tegon