In A Week I Will Be Dead

Chapter Twenty-One: Opponents

!!!TW!!!

Bullying, mentions of SH and suicide

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

Noah

My dictionary is empty, because obviously it's not her dictionary. But I checked it anyway through, you never know.

I find the dictionary in the girl's dormitory straight away. I know that any second the nurse will be in my room downstairs asking me what I want for supper, but although books have words, they cannot be spoken like me. In other words – heh other words – she'll have twenty-five paperbacks to keep her company.

As I pick up the book I know that indelible pen has turned it into a canvas of teenage artwork, complete with swearwords and beautiful pictures to illustrate them. I thought us guys were stereotypically drawn to creating works such as these, but hey, I don't know the innerworkings of every girl on the planet. Not bothering to flip through to find the 'e' section, I do the typical looking-for-money-in-cards-at-Christmas-manoeuvre. Upside-down goes the dictionary, and after a couple of shakes pieces of paper flutter free from its pages.

I hastily pick them up from the ground, and instantly see that only a single word has been written on the centre of each one – CHEAT! I sigh outwards, then inwards, and open up Sharpie Collin. Flicking through its pages, I notice how the artwork continues throughout its core. Words such as 'anal' and 'breast' had been highlighted and circled, with atrocious pictures of little phallic doodles dotted around. This can't be a girl's dictionary. I know for a fact that when we all get issued our books for our first term, we all receive a Collins dictionary, so it could be anyone's. Out of curiosity, I peek around the wad of pages wedged between my fingers onto the back of the front cover. There, although heavily scenic with charming images, reads the words of the person which made me cross into another realm: Joshua Patiens.

Okay now I'm lost.

How did she get his dictionary? How did she find it? Then it hits me right in the face. Or rather, it hit me right in the back. The book that collided with my shoulder blades last week could have only been this one, and she must have surreptitiously slid it into her school bag for further use. Clever. She always finds new ways to impress me.

I slip back down the stairs and into my room to find the nurse looking at me with a mixture of confusion, humour and concern.

'I suppose you've decided to continue your...nest.' She looks at the dictionary I'm holding in my left hand and I look towards the floor sheepishly. I shift my weight from left to right, subconsciously pulling my sleeves over my wrists in the process.

'Personally, we nurses are very concerned with your erratic behaviour. You're not eating meals. Sleeping throughout the day. Sleeping with...books. Is this what happened last year? Before your incident?'

There was one of those words again. Incident.

'No', I say firmly, probably a little too firmly, because her eyes narrow and her lips pucker and crease around the edges.

'Well', she continues, 'you're actually free to leave first thing tomorrow morning, despite popular opinion, but what Mrs Webb says goes.'

'Mrs Webb sent me here?'

Her eyes relax and her mouth spreads back into position.

'Yes and no. You were sent here for a check-up as part of school policy, but your stay was extended due to Mrs Webb. She said something about separating you from the school – something about people asking too many questions or something like that.'