Date With a Demon & Other Stories

What Dimension is Home, Part 2

I stay away from Jasmine 2.0 during PE. I don't need the questions about how I suddenly have a six-pack or how I suddenly can run the mile in six minutes. When class is over, I change in a bathroom stall to avoid further questioning about my scars.

I walk to English with my shoulder pressed up against the wall and my head constantly moving, watching my classmates in their ignorant bliss. None of them have ever seen war and for that, I envy them.

My English teacher, Mr. Clarkman, gives me a nod when I enter his classroom.

"Morning..." he trails off and curiosity fills his gaze. Mr. Clarkman is a war vet. He served ten years in the Army, two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan.

I look down when I see confusion flood in his eyes. The pain and trauma he sees in me is a reflection of his own. He doesn't get a chance to approach me, however, because the rest of the class comes in.

"Did you read the book?" Thomas slides into the chair next to me.

"Which book?"

My friend's eyes flash, "Jane Eyre? You know, the book we've been reading in class, the book the test is on?"

Jane Eyre?

I collect my bearings, "Oh, that book. Of course. Yeah, I read it."

"What book is that?" I asked the boy, sitting beside him on the couch.

"Jane Eyre," He replied.

"We're reading that in school!"

He looked up and I saw his beautiful green eyes, "Really? Is it good?"

I nodded, "It can be hard to understand and slow sometimes, but it's an amazing book."

Dimples appeared on his cheeks as he smiled, "It's my favorite," He put his finger in his book and offered me his hand, "I'm Scout. Scout Wilson."

"Nora Hemmings."

"Nora? You okay?" Thomas is waving his hand in front of my face.

I blink and roll my shoulders, "Perfectly fine."

I rub the sweat off the back of my neck, then shove my hands into my pockets to try and warm them up while curling my toes to do the same. I put up my walls as Mr. Clarkman tells us to take out our books and then lead a discussion for review before passing out the test.

I almost burst out laughing when I get to the question about Mr. Rochester dressing up as a Gypsy woman to fool his party guests. Scout loved that part. He kept a post-it on that page and whenever he was feeling sad, he would re-read it. He had memorized the entire conversation between Jane and Mr. Rochester, or 'Eddie', as Scout called him.

I can feel the tears burning behind my eyes as I walk up to Mr. Clarkman and pass him my test.

"Done already, Nora?" he asks, taking the packet.

"Y-Yes, sir," I don't trust myself to say too much, "Could I use the bathroom?"

Mr. Clarkman nods and waves to the door. I walk slowly out into the hallway before sprinting as fast as I can to the nearest restroom I can find and locking myself in a stall. I swallow back as many of the tears as I can, but allow a total of six to fall.

I sit in silence for the next few minutes, then splash some water on my face and go back to class. Some people are still taking the test, but most have finished. Thomas is in the back on his phone.

"Where have you been?"

"I was in the bathroom, then I stopped to get water," I lie.

The rest of the school day is a pain. I walk home alone and purposely take the long way through the park. I find a bench and sit down, watching the toddlers and small kids running around while their moms and dads and nannies watch. It was a bad decision, however, because their screams, no matter how gleeful, sent me deep into my mind, especially when a kid yells for their friend to move.