sparks

28

descriptions of puking / panick attacks

George

I wake up, and I go to class.

Thats all I expect to come out of today.

Maybe I'll get to sit and talk with Dream later, one of my favourite things to do, especially when the conversations run long then usually.

But the entire course of my very predictable day changes, when a teacher I've never seen before comes to call me out of class, and won't tell me anything about why I've been taken out.

He doesn't know, he says. He's just the messenger.

I'm taken into the principals office once we get to the administration building, and ushered over to the phone.

Then I'm left alone, in the office. For privacy reasons, they tell me. That makes me think this must be important.

I'm actually expected my mum to be calling. I'm expecting, well, more or less hoping, that this will be news about Quinn and I. I'm hoping she's calling to tell me she at least managed to buy me some more time.

But its Trevor. Why Trevor? Thats one of the first things I think when I hear his voice. Why Trevor?

"George?" he calls through the phone, "George? Is that you?"

"Yeah" I answer, "it's me, yeah. Whats the matter?"

There's a long pang of silence, silence that stings from the top of my head right down to my feet.

The pause feels longer then it probably is. I can hear his short breaths on the phone, so I know he's was still there. Why isn't he talking?

When he finally manages to spit it out, his voice comes out low. Not intentionally. Just as though, he's trying to be softer. Like he's trying to sound comforting.

"George" he sighs, "George, kid, I'm so sorry."

My stomach sinking, and my fingers feeling cold. Thats all I feel after the hush of his six simple words. The phone feels like it weighs a hundred pounds in my hand.

"Why are you sorry?" I ask, my voice still loud despite his low tone.

Another swing of silence, but in this one, I want to scream through the phone for him to just get on with it. Out with it, I want to shout, just tell me and let it hurt and let me move on. It can't be that bad, right?

"There was an accident" he told me, "there was an accident last night, in Rome, George, she was drivi..."

His explanation fades in and out of my head after this. She. The room feels smaller, all of a sudden. The walls feel too tight, much too tight, and I can't seem to hear much else but the loud buzz of Trevors voice through the phone.

She.

There's no mention of a he, at all. No mention of my father comes. Just she. He isn't even the one calling me, why on earth isn't he the one delivering me this news?

I'm leaning on the edge of the desk in the room by the time he finishes explaining, but that doesn't mean I was listening. I can barely even form a coherent sentence at this rate. Damn, I don't even feel like I should be stood upright at all.

"George?" he calls, "George, if you want I'll come and pick you up right now, I'll send people over to come and get you and I can be there as early as tomorrow afternoo-"

"No" I gasp, "no, I can't leave. Not yet."

I don't know how I manage to hold myself together.

All I repeat in my head as Trevor continues to tell me things through the phones line, is 'don't let him hear you cry, don't start to cry here.' I need to listen, I need to uphold myself and pay attention.