In Señora Perez's classroom for the second time today, I refused to look at her, and I told myself I would keep my mouth shut. I didn't think she deserved an explanation from me, and I knew I didn't owe her one. Turns out, I didn't need to open my mouth. If she cared enough to get in between us, why didn't she care for an explanation or as to how I found myself in that situation in the first place? Nevertheless, I ended up right there, in her room, empty and echoey like it always was after class when I would opt to help her rearrange the desks back to rows and she would insist that I leave and go to my next class. Except, it was always more like a demand or order than an insistence.
"Mira." She said sternly holding her finger up accusingly, making me remember why I'm even here. "I don't know what went wrong back there or why you felt the need for such a violent, unfair, inappropriate reaction. But that's not okay, and you know it! You're a smart kid." I raised my eyebrows at the comment. "You may not always get the best grades..." Yep, there it was. "But you know right from wrong, and all of your teachers commend your sweet attitude and good heart. I've seen you with my own eyes stand up for others in a heartbeat, and Gwen—"
"It's Owen. And you. Know. It." I scowled and used her own words against her. The person I used to look up to and see so highly was losing my respect more and more today. She didn't even acknowledge my comment and continued on her rant.
"Mira, I know you have a lot going on in your personal life, but that doesn't mean you get to bring it to class every single day, and that especially doesn't mean that you get to threaten other kids over an accident—"
It took everything in me not to yell at her over that comment, the one about 'bringing it to class.' I did raise my voice, though. I couldn't help it. "You think it's easy to shut up suicidal thoughts and shut off hallucinations?!" I regretted it as soon as it came out, but kept going because I had so much more to say. My plan of keeping my mouth shut was out the window. "How the Hell am I supposed to come to class everyday ready to learn when I'm not even ready to wake up alive in the mornings?!"
"Language!"
"Language my ass, I can only speak one and I can't understand any of them. I told you I had auditory processing issues that were becoming unmanageable from stress, and you still made fun of me in front of all of my classmates! What makes you think I'm going to respect to a word you say?"
Her body shook, she clenched her fist, furrowed her eyebrows at me and stared into my eyes with resentment. I stared back. I guess my words finally set in for her, though, because she unleashed the tension in her body, and let out a very heavy sigh. "Anyways. I'm going to try and get you off the hook from any punishment since all you did was scare him, but that kid's parents aren't going to be so easy on you." She got quiet when she said this, and it sounded like she genuinely felt sorry for me. "You still probably have enough time to go back to the cafeteria and eat lunch before sixth period if you leave now. Oh, and the school is going to have to report your suicidal thoughts to your parents—"
"No. No no no no, you can't do that to me." I pleaded through gritted teeth. I had kept quiet for nearly five years, since seventh grade, and she was going to tear it all apart and make my parents angry that I have even more problems.
She shuddered and sighed again. "Legally, I have to report it to the counselor, and he legally has to send a phone call to your parents. Be grateful I'm giving you a heads-up at all."
"I hate you." It was when I said this that I knew I was no longer myself. Instead, I was the angry voice in my head that always encouraged my hatred.
"You're being really immature right now."
"I really really hate you."
"I'm sorry, but it is my legal obligation—"
"No. I hate you because you said you accepted me and then stopped using my correct name. I hate you because you used to avoid me at all costs, like I had a contagious disease. I hate you because you mocked my hearing problems in front of all of first period. And I hate you for grabbing my arm just a minute ago." I turned to leave the classroom, and then my mouth opened up again and spilled out more words I wasn't prepared for. "Seriously, do you know how bad that fucked up my self-esteem?"
"Language..." she said gently.
I turned back to her one more time, looking her way from the doorway now. "No, just imagine. You're in a class where you have no friends and everyone is judging you for being queer and mentally ill. The teacher tells everyone to get into pairs, and no one wants to work with you, so you know you're going to have to work with the teacher, and that's embarrassing on its own. Now imagine, that not even the teacher wants to be working with you, and forces one of the students—who already established that they didn't want to be your partner—to pair up with you so that you wouldn't have to." I gave her one more angry look before leaving the room, but she just looked down at her feet with her hands in her pockets.
"Lo siento..." was all she said. It didn't feel genuine.
I scoffed at her and how pathetic she seemed to me in that moment. "Whatever."
Ally met up with me in the empty hallway on my way back to the cafeteria. She handed me a bag of barbecue chips. I hate barbecue chips.
X
The next horror of the day was Ms. Prawn's class. She tried to reprimand Ally and me for being late. There it was, the heat, the fast-paced heartbeat, the heavy breathing. I clenched my fist and took one powerful step towards the bitch's desk before Ally saved me once again. She clasped her hand tightly on my shoulder. This was just enough for me to ground myself. I could feel the anger radiating off of her, and I noticed it so fast that it distracted me from my own—it even hit me as fast my own. She breathed out heavily and her whole body tensed up like a tightly taught rope before strutting past me to take her seat. I wasn't letting my rage build up this time, but I could feel that I still wasn't myself.
Ally could feel it, and she shot me a worried look through her own stew. Yes, I just knew I wasn't myself, and it didn't feel as though I had control over my actions either. Ms. Prawn began the lesson while I tuned her out, threw my bag on the floor, and propped up my feet on my desk. "Deadname, what the Hell do you think you're doing to that desk?" She interrupted her own lesson to get on to me. It was clear that she was just trying to find ways to avoid teaching, nothing new. So, I gave her even more of a reason to do just that.
With an aura of confidence and distaste for the woman in front of me, I jeer at this comment. Tilting my head back, I chuckle at her "What does it look like?" I ask.
"What in the devil has gotten into you?" She asks me. "Put your God damn feet down and get out something to take notes."
"Why would I do that? We both know I'm going to fail this unit. Just go back to your little worksheet on the projector, and leave me out of this."
She sat quiet for a moment, aggravated by my behavior, but seemed to take her time deciding her next words. "Deadname, take your things and go sit in the office. You can explain to them why you think you're in there." Ally gave me another look of concern. That was when I noticed Brady's worry for me as well—I forgot he was even in this class. I suddenly felt embarrassed, but you'd never be able to tell by my body language. The person I was then was not the person I am really or ever have been. It was still the angry little voice that has only ever just stayed in my head. Until now I suppose.
I just waved to them both as I left and headed to where I knew I was going to spend all of sixth period—the bathroom by the commons area. There I tried to wipe down my sauce covered hoodie with wet paper towels and failed. Then, I lied my backpack on the ground and used it as a pillow. Sleep took over me then. There were a few times I would wake up—when the bell rang or when girls came in between periods—but I mostly just attempted rest before I had to go to work that night. I dreamt of nothing.
X
When the bell to go home rung out through the hallways and echoed to the bathroom, I woke up groggy and dizzy. Yet I picked myself up off the ground and pushed forward, just like I was always doing. Pushing and pushing myself. Maybe I was myself again? I didn't feel strong, powerful or confident anymore, and I found myself tiredly shuffling down the hallways like always. I made sure to avoid Señora Perez, who was on bus duty, and waited outside for my mom. I guess she either didn't get a phone call yet, or they only called my dad, because she just asked me how my day was. This time I told a little bit of how bad it was—that I got my lunch spilled on me, and Ms. Prawn tried to make fun of me for being late. "That bitch!" was all she said before her tangent about her latest problems. I refused to respond to most of what she said further than an exhausted "hmm," and she left me alone this time. At some point during this conversation she asked to borrow fifty dollars for something or another, maybe it was her phone bill. Either way, because I knew I didn't really have a choice and couldn't make myself care about anything anymore, I obliged.
Mom handed me my work shirt from her bag, and that was when I remembered I had to work tonight. Part of me was disappointed by this, but I tried to look on the bright side and began making a mental list in my head:
1. I had gotten somewhat caught up on sleep from napping all through the last three class periods of the day.
2. I could maybe make up the money my mom was borrowing from me.
3. I would get to see my coworkers and have a good time.
I became hopeful that this day would turn itself around.
YOU ARE READING
Life and Its Mishaps
Teen Fiction"Hi, my name's Owen, and I'm pissed." Owen's life so far hasn't been the worst in the world, but it's been bad enough to push them over the edge. They are finally learning to cope with their depression and anxiety, how to accept themself as non-bina...
