Wings

Defying Logic

~~"Insane people are always sure that they are fine. It is only the sane people who are willing to admit that they are crazy." ~Nora Ephron~~

The next morning during breakfast, I took two pills as the doctor had instructed. I had a good feeling about that day and I had even chosen to wear something other than my usual sweatshirt. Instead I wore skinny jeans and one of the shirts I used to wear before my parents died. The shirt had been one of my mother's favorites: a bright blue color that she said made my eyes glow.

When I got to the school, a few people actually looked at me. It was weird to admit but I wasn't used to it; normally people just looked through me as if I were a ghost or simply invisible. But now a few people stopped to look at me, no doubt wondering who the new girl was. Little did they know that I had been at the school as long as they had. It was funny what a pair of clothes could do.

As usual, Lay walked up to meet me at my locker before the first bell rang. At first I was worried about her opinion of my new choice of clothing, but all she said was, "Nice shirt."

I smiled at her. "Thanks, nice boots," I commented, knowing that they were new and she would be excited that I noticed. 

As I had expected, she gushed, pleased that I had noticed her new black leather boots that were over her holy jeans. "So is anything new?" she asked.

I could tell she was wondering why I wasn't wearing my usual clothing, though she didn't want to upset me about asking. I shrugged my shoulders," Not much," I lied. There was no way I could tell her that I had been seeing shadows for the past three weeks and a boy that wasn't really there. I also wouldn't tell her that I had gone to the doctor's to get medicine because I thought I was going crazy. No, she didn't need to know.

She seemed contempt with my vague answer. Lay was never one to pry into someone else's business, though she did like to make her's known.

After I gathered my books together we started walking down the hallway. While walking we passed a boy in our grade. Lay caught him staring at me and she glared at him and, not even kidding here, growled at him. She knew me well enough to know that I hated standing out and didn't like attention from people.

We laughed together as the boy ran off, getting as far away from us as he could. She shot me a knowing look, "Guys can be such pigs; they see something pretty and they can't stop staring at it. I just hate how deceiving clothes can be. Like if I were to come to school tomorrow wearing a frilly dress and heels, no one would know who I was!"

I nodded along with her. "All I did was wear a nice shirt."

"A nice, bright shirt," she added. "Maybe you can't see it for yourself, Raley, but once you ditch the over-sized sweatshirts and jeans you can actually be some competition for the preps."

I blushed and looked down at my shoes as we walked. I was grateful that Chevrolet was so honest and that she thought I was pretty, but I was regretting my decision to change clothes today. The only reason I had decided to go out on a limb and wear different clothing was because of the medicine I was taking. Something felt right about the medicine, maybe it was the fact that a professional doctor said there was nothing wrong me, but I just felt better about the shadows.

When the bell rang, we headed separate ways to go to homeroom.

After school we walked to the studio and played our violins together. Afterwards we locked up and walked back to our houses. This time we had managed to leave the studio earlier and so this time the walk wasn't as dark.

I was shuffling along the snow-frosted sidewalk when something caught my eye. Oh no, I thought, not again. I had taken my medicine twice that day and yet apparently it wasn't working.

The whole way home I tried to keep my eyes focused right in front of me, not bothering to turn my head every time a shadow moved into my vision.

When I finally got to my house, I hurried up the steps and slammed the door behind me as if the shadows wouldn't be able to follow me inside.

I ran up the stairs to my room and tried to calm down. There had to be some logical reason as to why my medicine wasn't getting rid of the shadows. Maybe they just needed more time to kick in. Maybe I just needed to take them regularly for them to work.

Somehow I was able to assure myself that the medicine just needed time to work its magic. I would give it a few more days and then I was sure I would see results. I just needed time...

I continued to take the medicine until Friday. After walking home from school that day, I knew it was helpless. It wasn't residual damage from the accident I was in, this was something else. The only other thing I could think of was that I was hallucinating.

But do crazy people actually know if they're crazy?