Before You Touch Me

Chapter Three

"Syria."

The past week went by with its usual commotion. Caleb being an ass, awkwardness with my parents, and Dr.Emily checking in on me to see if I wanted to schedule another session. Ever since I told her that I wanted only one session per week she's been on edge. Of course she wouldn't have signed off on it if she thought I wasn't ready for the downcut. But she still worries that I'm suppressing emotions. I just didn't want to waste gas money when it's the same stuff every week.

'My parents don't know how to communicate with me and it's my fault. I can't touch people or I'll freak out. People can't touch me or I'll freak out.' Pretty simple if you ask me.

Although there have been developments. A few days ago, the worker at Wendy's gave me my food and his fingers brushed mine. I didn't go berserk, but it was only for like a second and he was wearing gloves. Baby steps.

Now I'm in Mr.Thompson's office talking about my project. "You're going to represent Syria?" It's lunch, so he's eating a turkey sandwich. He wipes mustard from his lips. "Is there a particular reason why you chose it.?"

I swallow a bite of my own sandwich. Am I a loser for hanging out with my teacher to avoid my bully? Probably. "I'm half Syrian. I want to show people my culture." And make my parents finally proud of me.

He nods. "I think that's great. Your information would also be accurate since your family is from there."

I give him a quick smile and take another bite.
"And your other half?" He asks.

"Oh my dad is Nigerian."

"So why not pick Nigeria?" Because if I get my mom's forgiveness, my dad's will come along with it.

I shrug. Mr.Thompson lets out a small laugh. It's husky and full of authority. I look at his college degree. He graduated four years ago which makes him around 26 or 27.

"Mr.Thompson, why'd you choose to be a teacher?"

He's silent for a moment, and I wonder if it was rude to ask. "I was hoping to meet new interesting souls and connect them to ones from the past. Historians weren't perfect. Actually a lot of them are shitty people who just made big changes."

"But then again so are we, the only difference is that we now hide behind morals to exempt ourselves."

I try to absorb what he means. I felt he answered a whole other question, but maybe that's the answer I needed. The bell rings, so I excuse myself. I have English with Ms.Whitley. Today, she's kissing up to Shakespeare. I take my usual seat. Mathias walks in and smiles at me. I smile back. I don't always smile back because it doesn't come easy to me. He sits on the other side of the class. I take out my novel and tune out Ms.Whitley's desperate caws.

Ten minutes into class, the person next to me drops a note on my desk.

I unfold it:

Ready to get food poisoning today?

I peer at Mathias to find him grinning at me. I don't know what he's going to make because he won't tell me. I write back:

I already notified the hospital.

I hand it back and pretend to focus on my book. A few seconds later, I get another note. I look at Ms.Whitley to check that she's not looking, but she's explaining why Shakespeare likes the summer or something. I read the note:

Now ur just bruising my ego :/

I bite back a smile. The person next to me is clearly tired of passing papers so I just suffice with giving Mathias a shrug.