Begin Again

Six - Copernicus's POV

"My name is Copernicus, A.K.A. the namesake of Renaissance mathematician and astronomer Nicolaus Copernicus. I'm fifteen and I have Narcolepsy, courtesy of DNA and genetics. My father abandoned my mother and I when I was younger, and is still M.I.A. at the moment. My mother is 43, and is still living in the same house that we were supposed to vacate eight years ago. And since you're asking, no, I do not want to see my father again. No, I do not want a stepfather, even if he is nice. And no, I am not overly-stressed, or overly-exerting myself. I am a teenager. That is what teenagers do."

Mrs. Annie Thompson: the school's on-again-off-again psychologist and nurse---wife to Mr. Thompson, AP Biology teacher, and mother to Sel Thompson: 10-year-old Elementary Student. She tells me this every time I am "invited," and continues to act as though I have forgotten her identity.

I'm here for my weekly visit, but this time there's exciting news. I've been chosen to be the spokesperson for the school's 'Ignoring Illness,' campaign. I cringe at the hug that I'm pulled into, careful to keep my torso from the table, which by legend, is an old magician's table that was renovated into a teacher's desk. I pat her back awkwardly, and pry myself away, settling for the plastic yellow chair that is tattooed with graffiti and gum. Someone even managed to carve their name into the seat.

"As nice as that is, Mrs. Thompson--"

"Please, call me Annie!"

"Well, Annie, I don't think I'd feel comfortable heading anything. I'm not qualified, and I could think of at least ten other people that would appreciate the gesture much more than men, not that I don't appreciate it, it's very nice. It's just that---"

"You don't want to fall asleep while you're on stage? How many times have I told you this, Copernicus? To get over your fears, you have to face them."

"It's not really about th---"

"I know how you feel. I get it." She gestures at the plaques on the wall, as if they give her a one-way ticket to people's feelings. I start to grind my teeth at this point.

"Mrs. Thompson---"

"Annie!"

"Annie, I just don't feel comfortable. I'm sorry that I can't help you, but I'm sure you'll find somebody. As soon as word gets out, there will be plenty of people that will want to help you. There'll be a whole committee, I swear it. I'll even help find people who will join. I just...I can't talk in front of a whole crowd. I have zero leadership skills. Please, just let me do what I do best. I assist. I don't star. Not anymore, anyway."

I turn away, my bag tugging on my arm. I'm already retreating, and I feel her eyes intently resting on the back of my head. I half-heartedly offer a wave at her reflection in the door's window, and walk out, my head tucked against my chest, my bag held close. A quick glance at the clock lends me the time---2:45, almost time to close up shop.

Walking idly, I find myself wandering down the Senior's wing. Brushing up against the lockers, I suddenly backpedal, my coat hung up on the hook of a lock. I spin around, only to hear the awful sound of ripping. I feel the red rush to my cheeks before I can stop it, I am staring at him again. The owner of Locker 1056, with the Beatles autographs and the Mona Lisa smile, is looking at me through the slim panel of Sociology 101.

I swallow, and I can only watch as he stands up, speaking a few muted words to the teacher, before exiting the room. I feel my lip start to tremble, and I'm suddenly in his arms. He's just there, not saying a word, or even hugging me back, but he's there. I settle for this, and wait as he unhooks my coat, handing me a thick wool sweater.

"Whose sweater is this?" My voice is beginning to crack, and I feel the impending flood gates opening.

"It's Em's. She'll be waiting for you outside in a few minutes. If she runs late, she said to catch a ride with Freddy. He has football practice though, so you could go with Aria. She always loves when you two get together." I nod, and I feel relieved for a moment, squeezing his upper arm in a motion of thanks.