Reality is Elusive

I stepped out of my truck and slammed the door, casually swinging my school bag over my shoulder before gazing up at the huge building in front of me in apprehension. Hundreds of teenagers milled around my still form, weaving between the cars in the parking lot and shouting out to friends they hadn’t seen since the end of the last school year. Taking in a deep breath I took a step forward, stopped, sighed, then began to walk unerringly to Anders High School entrance doors for the first time, and sadly, not the last.

Despite having spent 3 years suffering through what I had been forced to come to call ‘therapy’ , I still couldn’t stop myself falling into a state of what felt like an unshakable sense of self pity and resignation. Despite this, in knew it was not unshakeable at all, not even close.  My purposeful stride didn’t waver, despite the sudden drop in my mood, and I made my way through deafening halls cringing to the side, to collect my class schedule and locker details. When I arrived at the office and introduced myself as Genevieve Collins to the receptionist, the woman’s eyes lit with recognition.

“Yes, of course, you’re the new student. The principle will see you in his office across the hall straight away.”

Excellent, was my first sarcastic thought. I would be introduced to a pair of the nicest girls in school, and with a warning for them to treat me with especial care, (one they had received in gruesome detail before my arrival) be sent off with a kind and sickeningly fake smile and invitation from the principle to come talk whenever I felt the need. Upon entering the principles cramped office however, I was surprised to see it empty except for the principle himself.

Perhaps they had decided that I wasn’t good enough to bother with the effort this time.

At the thought, I could feel my heart starting to beat faster.

Perhaps the principle wanted to personally tell me that accepting me had been a mistake and I should just turn around and go home.

Oblivious to the voice in the back of my mind telling me I was being unreasonable, I began breathing faster.

Perhaps this wasn’t actually the principle in front of me sitting on a rollie chair, but one of the men from the ‘house that helps’ who was coming to watch my every move, or even worse, take me back.

I was slowly reaching the point of hyperventilation before I realised something. The principle was sitting on rollie chair, the type that could roll around, and spin in circles as much as you want. The chair had turned slightly as the principle faced me, and I gazed at the chair transfixed, desperately hoping it would twist again.

A cough broke my concentration and I looked up noting the name tag on the desk. Principle Anders looked at me curiously, if not warily, and I could feel my heart plummet. All spectacular thoughts of chairs that spin flew out of my mind as I began dwelling on everything that was wrong around me.

My side of the desk was littered with scratches from nervous students who had been sent to the principles office.

The reading lamp was unbearably bright and hurt my eyes when I looked at it.

The walls where an unflattering murky green colour.

The principle as wearing a stupid tie with pictures of ducks wearing sunglasses. I hate ducks.

The last thought made my reasonably neutral mood plummet. I was taking every awful thing in this room as a personal offence, especially the man sitting in a rollie chair in front of me. The man was standing up, saying something I was refusing to listen to. His mouth kept moving as he started to move closer towards me. With an effort, I focused on tuning in to what he was saying.

“Come now, why don’t you sit on my chair, okay? It’s extremely comfortable and…” He began slowly.

Almost immediately I was starting to feel a little betterd. I took a cautious step forward, and at the principles inviting gesture to the black chair, hurried towards it and plopped straight down.

Principle Anders took the students seat opposite me as I wiggled a bit to get comfortable. I could feel my slightly tilted grin slowly starting to take it’s place on my face.

“Genevieve, I would like to talk to you about the method of your stay here at Anders High.” He told me.

I felt my grin falter, before restraining myself from taking a mood dip and told him tightly, “Call me Gen, I don’t like Genevieve.”

“Well then Gen, I have spoken to Mrs Velletri and… are you listening Gen?”

“Uh Huh”

At the mention of Mrs Velletri, my physciatrist, I frowned irritably and began slowly turning in my chair in an attempt to get in a good mood. It was working, because I was grinning after a single turn.

“Well, anyway, we have decided that we won’t be making it known to any of the students or faculty about your” He hesitated from his caring speech before saying, “…condition.”

I sped up my spinning and told him a simple “Okay” before letting out a small giggle. This was really fun, the spinning made the murky green walls seem less murky, and I could feel myself getting pleasantly dizzy. I gave another short giggle before speeding up the spin even more, becoming almost reckless. A knock on the door distracted Principle Anders from his nervous attentions to my brilliant spinning, however, I didn’t falter.

The receptionist let herself in, and I could see her do a double take in the brief moment my spin let me see her. Visualzing myself in her position, I could imagine her reaction at seeing the principle in a low chair where a troublesome student would normally sit, and a seventeen year old girl with wild red hair and a crazed grin spinning excitedly in a big and fancy office chair. The thought brought a giggle crawling up my throat, and before long I had stopped spinning and was laughing uncontrollably.

With a nervous look my way, the receptionist told the Principle that there was only five minutes left until the bell rang calling first period, and that she would take me to my first class. Still chuckling to myself, I got up from my seat and left the room with a cheerful ‘see ya’ to the Principle.

The receptionist led me through crowded halls, and at the point when I truly thought the noise would tip me over the edge, the bell rang. Before I had time to fully process what that meant, the halls where empty but for a few stragglers, and I wasn’t feeling overwhelmed anymore. Quickly feeling better, there was a bit of a spring to my step as we reached the end of the hall, and stopped in front of the last classroom door, which had already been closed for the beginning of class. The receptionist turned to me.

“This is your Monday first period class Genevieve, Chemistry.”

Her use of my full name irritated me, even though I knew she had no way of knowing how much it bothered me. She handed me an envelope which she told me had both my schedule and my locker number and code, before pushing on the door, which opened with a squeal. I stepped inside and immediately the door was closed behind me as the receptionist scurried off.

“Ah, you must be Genevieve.” The lanky man with salt and pepper hair took me by the arm and guided me to the front of the classroom. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Genevieve, she will be joining your senior year here and I hope everyone will make her feel welcome. Genevieve, why don’t you introduce yourself.”

He had said Genevieve three times in the last ten seconds, and to say it put me in a foul mood would be an understatement.

A bitter smirk reached my lips as I turned to the class. What did he want me say?

Hi, I’m Genevieve Collins and I have been officially diagnosed with Manic Depression.

Yeah,  maybe not.