In A Week I Will Be Dead

Chapter Twenty: Marooned

!!!TW!!!

Suicide and ED references

IF YOU ARE STRUGGLING, CONTACT THE SAMARITANS ON 116 123 <3 <3 <3

Noah

I pass a few kids on the way back to the health centre. All of them stare at my arms and my chest. Although my torso is covered, the bandage makes a noticeable lump. They've also all seen the video I imagine. One of them steps forward from the group and tries to come up with something to say.

'I'm really...I...I...I mean...just...like... get better soon.' The rest of his friends nod their heads in agreement.

'Thanks.'

Then a small boy, probably in the lowest year steps forward. He reminds me of Gracie, his eyes wide and absorbing. Small children always have a way of seeing the universe through the eyes of the constellations.

'Can I talk to you about something?'

His friends stand looking quietly.

'Sure.'

He gives them a nod which simply means 'please leave us alone' and they all scuttle towards the toilets. Weird. Maybe society is changing if the smallest guy in the group has that much respect.

'Well, I don't really know how to do this. It's kind of awkward considering you're so popular and I didn't think you would want to talk to me.' Yep. Something's definitely changed.

'Popular?'

'Yes. All the big kids in the hockey team call you their mate and are always talking about how you were really brave.'

I ponder this statement in disbelief. That's fascinating. Weren't they the ones that only a few weeks ago, were pushing me into walls and flipping my tray in the dining hall?

'They're not my friends.'

'Oh. So, you can talk to me?'

'Of course. Put it this way, you're more of a friend than they ever were, and I've only spoken to you once.'

At this statement the boy's eyes widen further and a huge grin spreads across his face like a flower blooming. He shoves out his hand.

'My name's Dylan.'

'I'm Noah.' Trying to seem friendly, I take his hand and smile a genuine smile, not a forced grimace that's often used to keep the wolves at bay.

Dylan continues to radiate happiness, until a flick switches in his brain and the smile retracts into a line, and his eyebrows knit.

'Noah, could you do something for me? It's just that I know a girl in my year and she's really skinny. I kind of like her a bit. But don't tell her that. Or my mates that. But I'm worried because she always wears really baggy clothes and never comes to the lunch hall. I'm worried about her.'

I nod my head like I've understood what he's saying, as he continues.

'Could you email her or something? Or leave an email address that she could access?'

I fumble around in my pockets until I come across my notepad. I write my email address down, along with a promise of confidentiality. I also write down the name of the school counsellor, and her email address. Still can't believe I have the counsellors number in my phone still. Anonymous Crow has a point about her being awful. Anyways, I see a therapist now for god's sake.

'I've put mine and the school's counsellor. She's...really nice. But don't order her to go, if it helps say I see her or something.'

His smile returns, bigger and better than ever before, and he takes the slip of paper. 'Thanks.'