Turned out I didn't overdose on NyQuil, yet the story spread around school that I attempted suicide by taking something lethal. I was just like that Aubrey girl, only I didn't use a highway, I used drugs. The sad tale of my suicide attempt wound up being more of a testimony to Jennifer and Sasha's complete victory over the strange girl who in the end just couldn't hack it. And once the story made its rounds, along with the newspaper article with a small footnote about my desperate bid to end my life, any future I might have had at Ross Alexander High School was gone. You couldn't have found a bigger outcast than the crazy girl who tried to kill herself.
The truth of the epic saga was a little less complicated as all that. I became very dehydrated which brought on a spell where I passed out. The problem was, after they got me stabilized and to the point where I should have woke up, I just...didn't. When I failed to regain consciousness they put me in ICU, convinced I had something else wrong with me, perhaps I had stopped breathing at some point which caused some sort of brain damage. A lot of tests were performed on my lifeless body, from a CT scan to an MRI, along with a ton of blood tests. I figured I needed to be in Dream Land to learn more about its fate, which is why I stayed unconscious so long. I was in Psitharis for five days, which put me in my strange coma for almost three.
When I woke up, my grandmother was relieved, my mom was beyond pissed and my sister immediately demanded to go home. The two of them were certain I had somehow faked it all for attention. And maybe I did fake it. There was nothing really wrong with me except for the flu and the dehydration, and by the time I woke up those symptoms have all but disappeared. My grandma offered to take me to her home when I was discharged. Mom and Aurora agreed, as did I. I was weak and didn't feel like dealing with them, and since Grandma was almost a couple of hours away I would also get the added benefit of steering clear of the unwanted attention that would come with my rumored suicide attempt and the article in The Chronicle.
The doctor signed me out of school for a week to convalesce. Perhaps that would give me enough time to figure out what to do next, how do downplay my supposed suicide attempt. Days were spent in quiet solitude, but I wound up worrying more about the other Exceptionals than myself. Did they wind up punishing Calperal for my disappearance? Was Jake okay? Every now and then I would remember the death of Anastasia and how vivid and realistic it was. If I shut my eyes for any extended period of time I would see the blade tear its way through her body, break her ribs and sever her artery before being ruthless pulled back the way it entered. It was very strange to feel pangs of guilt about the death of a fictitious person, but it haunted me every time my eyes closed.
As neglectful as my mother had been, Grandma was the exact opposite. Her loving care of her new invalid charge was close to smothering. I tried to reassure her I was feeling better; after two days of rest I really did feel much improved. But she kept me basically tied down in the bed and surrounded by whatever food or drink I desired. The good news was I had a television at my beck and call, and I had all of Aunt Charlotte's old mementos to look through or admire. But I was bored. I had to fight the urge to sleep non-stop, to return to finish my unfinished business in the dream world. If I made the attempt Grandma would have had me back in the hospital at a moment's notice. I didn't want to awaken to an IV drip and a backless hospital gown again. So I ate like a good girl, took my medicine right on schedule and kept my mind engaged with thoughts that had nothing to do with bullies or goons or fatally impaled dancers.
What was happening at home, however, was nothing short of bizarre. The paper ran the story, with the picture of a despondent mother clinging helplessly to the latest statistic of the cyber bullying trend. Mom made sure they knew about my tragic suicide attempt, wringing her hands the entire time as she told my tragic tale to the reporter, managing to squeeze out a tear or two as she expressed her fears to the now-ravenous Theresa Bennett. It was a low thing to do, reporting on a suicide attempt that never happened, but hell, whatever sells papers in the digital age, right? And thanks to that little addition to the report, a local television station showed up at Mom's house the next day wanting to speak with me. Well, of course I wasn't there because my mom was safeguarding me from the public, but she'd be more than happy to speak with them. The story she did with the local news was picked up by a national network who happened to be working on their own portrayal of suicide in the cyber world, and my story fit in with their report perfectly. They tried to interview my sister but she declined, which they used to prove how intimidating bullies could be, that they could turn loving sisters against each other like this.
When the school board found out about the news story they acted quickly. Mr. Daniels was put on administrative leave as they tried to figure out just how to deal with this situation. His daughter was suspended for a week, and faced possible expulsion once a thorough investigation had taken place, as all of the egregious posts and pictures had been posted from her laptop. Jennifer, however, had covered her own ass very well, and thanks to the devotion of her best friend Sasha she escaped with a three-day suspension.
Her parents weren't quite as forgiving. The Langstons decided enough was enough, and informed their older daughter that her shenanigans ceased immediately, or she would be on her way to a suburb of Detroit to live with her middle-class aunt and uncle until she graduated. Jennifer went from a demon to a saint in a matter of days; well, as far as her parents were concerned. Inside she was stewing about the unfairness of her current situation. This was an intolerable injustice. She had to figure out how to get back at the person who got her in trouble in the first place – me. If I knew what awaited me the moment I walked through the doors of that school, I never would have gone back.
I headed back to school on a Monday. At this point I had missed eight days of school. I didn't know what to expect, hoping the whole thing had died down. Mom and a very humiliated Aurora filled me in on all the trouble I had caused while I was away. Mom's boyfriend took one look at the newspaper article, saw the "troubled child" his potential girlfriend had in her care and stopped speaking to her a few days ago. Aurora's friends at first made fun of her for having the mentally unstable sister. She deflected the topic, she made fun of me right alongside them, she even took the desperate measure of defending me...for about five seconds.
I got on the bus, holding my breath to what sort of reaction the others would have. What I got was silence the second I stepped on board. A loud bustle came to a complete stop as everyone stopped to stare at me. Feeling my face burn red, I took the first empty seat and sat down. No one talked to me, which was probably for the best. Uneasy with the whispers and the looks happening around me, I opted to work on an old assignment I figured would have been due during my absence. Besides, sitting there wondering what they were saying about me, why they were all looking at me, was torture. I had to find something to distract me. An Italian sonnet seemed distraction enough.
No one sat beside me the entire bus trip. It got crowded, as usual, and several seats were cramped. People would sit in threes on a two-seater seat rather than sit comfortably with me. My trial had taken place in my absence. I had been found guilty of being strange, of being psychotic. My punishment? I got kicked out of society. I felt like Hester Prynne, only my scarlet letter was a big S for "suicidal."
We got to school and I took my seat in first period. I felt the eyes burning against my neck. I caught Mrs. Craft giving me sympathetic looks every now and then. Great, now the teachers believed the media as well. Did she think her intervention had come a little too late? Maybe I would get a chance to explain everything after class.
But that chance didn't come. Halfway through class the loud speaker squealed to life. People grabbed their ears as the fingernails-on-a-chalkboard screech of the outdated speaker system nearly deafened us. Once the tormenting sound subsided, we heard the voice of the school secretary Ms. Cranston. "Mrs. Craft? Do you have Medora Parker?"
Mrs. Craft looked my way nervously. "Yes, she's here." Renewed murmurs and questioning looks filled the room.
"Please send her to guidance as soon as possible." The loud speaker screeched one more time, then died. Mrs. Craft told me to take my books, as I probably wouldn't be back in time for the end of class, and away I went to guidance. When I stepped out of class I actually heard several of the other students giggling. One girl went as far as to say, "Thank God she left. I thought she might start shooting us!" As I walked down the hall I could hear Mrs. Craft's admonishing voice, but I couldn't hear what was said. As I turned the corner I saw a girl named Harper come out of class and sling her bookbag against the wall, slumping down beside it; a popular punishment of Mrs. Craft's.
I sat outside the guidance counselor's office for five minutes. It felt as if I was sitting there naked. People who passed would pause and stare at me, even the grown-ups. One girl in a trio of what looked like seniors leaned in really close with her two other friends and whispered something, to which one of the other friends mouthed a very loud "Ohhhh!" as they made a wide berth around me. Oookay, I thought to myself as I sat. Apparently I was also contagious.
"Miss Parker?" This man was new. I'd never met him before. I nodded feebly and he led me into Ms. Martin's office. He was looked friendly enough. A man of at least fifty, his hair was grey in spots but dark in others. It almost looked like he had gone crazy with the Just for Men, but he pulled it off without looking completely ridiculous. His horn-rimmed glasses rested in his jacket pocket, and he took them out to look at the file in his hand. He pulled out a chair for me and asked me to sit down. Ms. Martin sat nervously at her desk, staring up at the newcomer with a look that almost appeared to be hostile.
Ms. Martin spoke first. "Medora, this is Doctor Tonsch, with the district. He's here to help us sort of few things out, to help you with anything we can help you with to make things easier for you here at Ross Alexander High School. We hear you've been having a bit of difficulty with a few of the students at the school. Do you want to talk about that?"
I don't understand why, but I was angry. This was a first-class case of ass covering. They were trying to avoid a lawsuit, or worse yet a psychotic event with my hand on the trigger. I had my wrist broken, my picture with somebody else's grotesque body was spread all over the Internet and it would always be there. People were treating me like a leper because they thought I was a basket case. What could they possibly do that would change what had happened to me since I arrived at this crap school?
"If you're trying to keep me from shooting up the school you're wasting your time." I said indignantly. They jumped, thinking I meant I would do it whether they liked it or not, but I continued. "I don't plan to go out in any blazes of glory. But it sure would have been nice if one of you would have helped me out when I was sitting in a doctor's office over two months ago getting my wrist set, or maybe when I got publicly humiliated by two brats who should have been expelled last year. No offense to you Ms. Martin, I actually like you. But where were you when they were doing this to Aubrey?" I crossed my arms across my chest, glaring at the newcomer. Dr. Tonsch wrote furiously in his file.
"You have every right to be angry right now Medora." Ms. Martin responded as she waited for the good doctor to stop making notes. "Someone along the line let you down..." a quick shake of the head from Dr. Tonsch caused her to change tack. "You haven't always been able to rely on people that were closest to you. We understand that, and we're going to help."
Dr. Tonsch put his hand on my shoulder. The sensation was stranger than the creepy crawly feeling I would get when Calperal would do the same.
"Miss Parker...Medora." He said, checking for an affirmative nod from the guidance counselor. "We realize that some mistakes were made on an administrative level. We have taken Mr. Daniels out of his position until a full investigation can take place. Both girls in question have been suspended. We are looking into any accomplices who might have taken part in this act and, if any are found, they will face immediate punishment." I bristled. If? The page they put up was littered with comments. My picture was all over the place, shared over and over again. Of course there were accomplices! And I didn't really care about them. What I did care about was the two that started it all. They were coming back when they should have been expelled. They had proven themselves to be irrational, yet I was the one getting therapy. This was so stupid.
As if reading my mind, Ms. Martin threw herself back into the fray. "We know you feel victimized, and we're working to fix that. We have spoken with the parents of one girl and have been assured this will not happen again. And the other girl..."
"The principal's daughter?" I said viciously.
"Err, yes." she answered nervously. "Her behavior is directly affecting her father's position at this school, so I can guarantee you will have no further trouble from her. When he returns..."
"WHEN HE RETURNS?" I exploded. "What do you mean, 'when he returns'? Why isn't he getting fired?"
I can tell I touched a nerve with Ms. Martin. From what I had heard Mr. Daniels was quite beloved at this school, bratty daughter aside. She wasn't going to allow me to speak ill of him yet. "Mr. Daniels has spent tireless hours devoting himself to the success of this school and his students. Thanks to him this school has been a School of Excellence for five years running. His record..." Another fierce shake of the head from Dr. Tonsch told her to be silent, lest she say something the school district would regret.
"Medora, I can guarantee upon Mr. Parker's return things will vastly improve. Any person is allowed an error in judgment. It just proves they're human." Dr. Tonsch smiled warmly at me. I wasn't moved.
"Was it an 'error in judgment' when one of the students in his tireless, loving care committed suicide because of his daughter and her friend?" I asked. Dr. Tonsch's eyebrow shot up at least three inches. Ms. Martin suddenly looked as if she would have rather been anywhere else but right there at that moment being questioned about Aubrey's suicide.
Luckily the good doctor had the right answer for that as well. "The young woman in question never expressed any fears or concerns to any member of faculty or administration. Had we known her situation we could have helped her out with counseling and proper measures to ensure her well-being, just as we are attempting to do with you."
I couldn't believe the nerve of this guy. "Convenient excuse, I suppose." I seethed with anger at this point. Let them kick me out; what did it matter? "The truth is you knew about Aubrey. You people let her die and washed your hands of it. And you punished those two by making them ride the damn bus? Are you serious? They didn't learn anything, just moved on to the next victim. And that person just happened to be me. And now the entire school thinks I'm some sort of gun-toting, suicidal, homicidal lunatic! What's going to be different now that it's me?"
"We're working to bring about change." Dr. Tonsch offered.
"No, you're working to bring about my silence." I countered. "You're working to shut me up, to stop the news reports, to stop the emails, to stop the threatening phone calls and the bad press. You could give a shit less about me. And you know what? I feel the exact same way about you!" Ms. Martin had a completely stricken look on her face. I hated hurting her, but any good she could have done by doing her job was polluted by the efforts of the school board to keep me quiet. "Now, you either let me go back to class or you expel me. And if you do expel me I can guaran-damn-tee you I'll be in Theresa Bennett's office an hour after you throw me out." I was breathing heavily.
I wasn't giving in. I stood up to go; they didn't make any attempts to stop me. "You want to help me?" I asked. "You fire that stupid principal, throw his daughter and her worthless friends out of school permanently and give this nightmare time to fade away. Because if they come back they'll just do it all again, and this will just keep happening. But this time I have proof it's happening. You see just how fast I take this school and the members of your school board to court!"
I marched out the door, feeling a little liberated. Dr. Tonsch began writing again in the file, but I figured it was just a record of how I refused their help. That way if I did sue, they could point out my recalcitrant attitude to all of their attempts to help me. At this point I didn't care. In the next thirty minutes I was going to be hauled out of the school by the resource officers or I was going to be left to survive the rest of this miserable day my own way. And when the bell for second period rang twenty minutes later and there was no sign of any officials waiting to throw me out I figured I was in the clear. Now I could spend the rest of my time keeping my head low and ignoring the harsh gossip that had permeated the halls of this venerable institution.
