Ophelia Study No. 1

Chapter Fourteen

As the weeks dragged on, Emily only got worse and worse. She looked about as disheveled as one can, with bleary, tired eyes, greasy hair, sloppy clothing and smeared eyeliner. The boys stopped talking to me about her, which doesn't mean they stopped talking altogether. As Emily's condition deteriorated, the gossip returned. The snide remarks, the hushed whispering, the mumbling that ceased whenever she entered a room. She'd have to be either really optimistic, blindingly so, or incredibly oblivious to not notice what was going on. Everyone knew that something was wrong, and it was quite clear that they were all willing to kick back and enjoy the show.

It was on a Saturday night that Emily had given me access to her grades. We were laying in my room, the window cracked slightly, permitting the hush of early spring into the bedroom.

She was so cold she was shivering. I was warm, almost to the point of perspiration. I'd given her my duvet, draped it over her hunched and trembling shoulders. She hardly settled so I stood, searching for more blankets.

My head was poked under the bed when she told me, "I'm failing AP Chemistry."

I was quiet, unsure of what to say. Of course, to her this was an invitation to keep going. "I mean, don't ask me how. I guess I'm not as smart as everyone says I am."

"Don't talk like that." I peeked up at her, just to see that her back was still turned, just as it had been ten minutes ago.

"You want to see a train wreck?" She'd laughed, but it lacked depth, and as a result, sounded hollow and forced. "Log onto 642 on the school's website. Check out my progress reports; that'll make any student feel better about their academic performance." She was silent for a while, then adding, "The password is Kim46."

There was nothing I could say, nothing to be done to try and prove her worn.g It was one of those times where I didn't want to be right for the novelty of it, but for her own good. I wanted to tell her how intelligent and how thoughtful of a person she was.

But there was nothing in the world I could've said or done to fix her. She wasn't past the point of no return just yet, but she was far beyond the repair of others. To get better, she'd have to do it herself, and I just don't think it was something she had in her in those last few months.

I looked up her grades that next night while she was asleep, half expecting the login information to be incorrect. But of course, the universe just loves to prove me wrong. The password and username she'd told me worked, and with a hesitant click of the mouse, I brought up her current grades.

Sure enough, she was failing AP Chemistry. The rest of her report card sat at a steady C minus average, with the exception of drama, which she had a solid 95 percent in.

It was strange; the entire report card was not above a C except for that one grade, which on its own was really quite outstanding.

It was during the end of sixth period that next day that I found an oasis. And no, not an actual puddle of water in the midst of a literal desert, but a glimmer of hope in not only my, but also Emily's life. It was East Valley High spring production of Hamlet, our own personal oasis.

It was at the very end of that class that the announcement came over the loudspeaker. "Auditions for Hamlet will be held next Thursday after school in the auditorium. Signup sheets are in my office, and please tell Ms. Darren if you cannot make it but would like to be involved."

I put Emily's name down without a drop of uncertainty in my blood. For the first time in a while, I knew I was doing the right thing. As I penciled in the letters of her highness, I was full of hope, hope that this would be her way out.

Emily was absent at school that day; she'd been gone a lot in those past few weeks. She was prone to stress induced headaches and stomach cramps, as well as a serious issue with motivation. All of these were signs of her persistent depression, which grew seemingly more and more severe by the day.

She knew nothing of the play, but boy, was I ready to talk her ear off. In fact, it was within moments of arriving at the house that I told her all about how I signed her up.

"You what?!" she'd squeaked.

I cocked my head, reiterating, "I signed you up for auditions. They're next Thursday so..." I whapped her lightly with one of my notebooks, advising, "Get practicing."

"Why would you do that?" she barked. "God, you didn't even ask!"

"I- well geez, I don't know. I figured you'd want to, considering your grade in drama," I replied.

"You 'figured'?" she demanded. "Do me a favor and butt out!"

She stormed off, and I raced after her, grabbing her forearm. "Hear me out. You could really have a lot of fun with this. The point of life is to find something you're passionate about and chase it, and never give up on pursuing it. This could be it for you; I have a gut feeling. Please, just think about it. If you can't do it for me, do it for yourself." I loosened my grip, adding, "You deserve to be happy."

She tore her arm from my grasp, darting to my room and closing the door. I left it at that; I'd said all I wanted to say and did the best I could to try and help her. All that was left to do was wait, wait and see if auditions were a chance she was willing to take.