Three Words

Chapter 3 - Expectations

MAY

Riverton High hasn't been that bad so far. Sure, I haven't socially interacted with anyone besides the receptionist at the front desk, but baby steps. Right?

There's this voice in my head tell me I'm setting low expectations for myself. My hands had started to clam up from just the idea of interacting with the lady at the desk, which made me realize that I have set back from all the personal goals I have achieved in the past. 

As a kid, I have always been socially awkward. Kids who did not know me thought I was just shy, but then symptoms of my social anxiety became more and more obvious.

I always thought that, inside, I was a weird person. I mean, c'mon, just ask Nonna and she'll be more than happy to side with that statement. But I was scared that people would recognized that I was stupid from the way I behaved. My stuttering never failed to get the best of me and my speech was awkward. The easiest thing to do was to stay silent.

However, when the topic of mental disorders came up, I searched up 'social anxiety,' and what do you know? The symptoms were spot-fucking-on. When I confronted my mother about me possibly having social anxiety, she admitted she's always had her suspicions. The scariest part about this was that I could relate to all of the listed "symptoms." It was like the internet literally laid out my guts for the world to see.

People judging me, being overwhelmed talking to people, the over-thinking, irrational anxiety...

The list only goes on and on, which leads me to start over-analyzing when I really should be eating my lunch with barely ten minutes left of the period. Though I don't think eating in the library is allowed. 

My mathematics study notes are laid out in front of me as I finished the last of my homework from first period. Catching up on math was no big deal since I've always been ahead on the subject. The one subject I despise the most is science. Chemistry, biology, physics, you name it. 

Next to me, a girl threw her black bag onto the floor, followed by her plopping her body into the seat. It was the same girl I saw sitting in front of me in class today. She took out the same Trig textbook I was given today and slammed it so hard onto the table, that I felt pain for the book. 

Maybe I was so up inside my head or maybe I was on this non-adrenaline high because that only seems like the only possible explanation for why words came tumbling out of my mouth as I offered the girl I've seen earlier in my mathematics class some help. 

"Hi, um, if y-you need some help in math, I can help," I blurted out to the girl sitting next to me at the library computer table. "I remember you from class earlier, so I'm guessing we have the same homework?"

Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, chants in my head at least a hundred times as I fist my hands so hard my nails dig into the raw skin. Couldn't you see she's got issues with being hella angry! Dumbass.

However, my words seemed to get the girl to stop cussing at her math homework and release her death grip on the school calculator.

"You're telling me you understand this shit?" The girl suddenly asked. She turns her head towards me, with brown hair falling off her shoulders and wide, striking blue eyes. Suddenly I feel intimidated, but her question startles a little laugh out me and encourages me to find my voice once again.

"Yeah, I mean, even though I just started, I used to do problems like this back at my old school," I elaborate. "Statistics can be a real bitch sometimes," I added, hoping I don't come off as a completely stuck-up person. 

To my surprise, she laughed and the librarian had to 'shush' her. It didn't stop her from smirking though. 

"You're the new girl," the girl stated. It wasn't a question.