Mine To Forget

1- Lies and Liability

"Don't let it become another cliché story," I whispered to myself, steeling my nerves before stepping into the bustling hall of my new school. As I made my way through the corridors, scanning the sea of students ahead, the sheer size of the school became apparent. Its entrance was but a small glimpse of what lay beyond. The beige walls towered over me, almost taunting as I navigated through the maze-like corridors in search of my elusive locker. I glanced down at my schedule and student information paper, confirming the locker number once more to dispel any doubts or illusions.

To my exasperation, it was the same number I meticulously rechecked just two minutes ago. Frustration built within me, and I frantically scoured my surroundings, growing increasingly irritated. How could something as simple as finding a locker number be so maddeningly elusive? I silently berated myself.

After five minutes, I came to the realization that it was indeed challenging. Why, you may wonder? Well, because I had been walking in the wrong block. I was in the junior block. I had ended up on the opposite side of the building when I should have been on the other side. It took me a minute to realize my mistake and another minute to ask someone for directions.

Anxiety coursed through my veins, constricting my chest and amplifying the all-too-familiar feeling of unease, even when asking for simple directions. It was far more of a hassle than it should have been, and now I was worried there might be sweat stains under my arms.

I had woken up early today, partly because sleep had been elusive, and partly due to the nerves gnawing at me about returning to school. Memories of my junior year and the years prior were a hazy blur. After my accident last year, it had been challenging to live a normal life, especially when I couldn't recall anything from my past.

I found myself longing to merge with the surroundings, to become invisible as I navigated the halls of high school. Like a delicate whisper, I yearned to pass through each day unnoticed, not chaotic like the days in the hospital ward. Those memories were the last things I wanted to dwell on, partly because they were the reason I struggled to sleep at night. They continued to haunt me, and I just wanted to move forward and not dwell on what had happened.

I was all set for a fresh start, a major upgrade from the previous not-so-great chapter. This improved version of me deserved a life that was more serene, less hectic, and you bet I was dead set on making it happen.

The path to the classroom was less complicated than I imagined. Well, for starters, I was in the correct building this time, not the junior block. Imagine my embarrassment when I asked a fifth-grader for directions. I was still face-palming myself. But somehow, I reached my class on the third floor, and there was no elevator.

Getting to the classroom turned out to be easier than I anticipated. Firstly, I was relieved that I was in the right building this time, avoiding the junior block mishap. It was hard not to cringe at the memory of seeking directions from a fifth-grader. I was still mentally face-palming myself for that blunder.

Chemistry.

I groaned... 

The class continued in progress, and as I mentally prepared myself to knock on the door, a wave of anxiety washed over me. However, my attempt to enter discreetly was quickly shattered as the entire class turned their heads in unison, their curious gazes fixated on me. The spotlight was on, and I felt an overwhelming urge to flee.

"You're late," the teacher's voice echoed through the room without her even bothering to glance in my direction. She sported white hair and wore spectacles with retainers, easily in her late 50s. Her tone resembled that of a distant relative of Grumpy, and it sent shivers down my spine.

"Um, I'm sorry, I got lost," I stammered, my words barely audible before she sharply turned her head towards me. Her piercing stare dissected me, her expression cementing the fact that she was not just distantly related to Grumpy after all.