Cry Wolf

Chapter Two - The Reject

The Reject

Two days earlier...

My hands grip the side of the sink, my knuckles turning white. I suck in gulps of air, trying to force it down into my tight lungs. My mouth gapes open with each hard breath, like a fish under water.

Can not breathe.

I try so hard, fighting against my own body, but the air wont flow. I grow lightheaded, a horrible numbness sweeping through me. Fear that I might pass out intensifies my panic.

That can't happen here.

With shaking hands, I hastily turn on the faucet, splashing cold water on my face and hoping it will shock me out of it. When it doesn't help I nearly cry out in frustration.

Leaning over the sink, I clench my jaw painfully.

I hate this.

I begin to cry, tears streaming down my face. I have no control over it. No control over my own body.

Dying.

The tiny voice of my conscience is a reflection of my inner fear. Sliding to the floor I bury my head in my knees. Wrapping my arms around myself I sob uncontrollably. There's no stopping it.

I hear the door open, the laughing chatter of female voices filling the tiny school bathroom.

No. I don't want anyone to see me like this.

"Ew, what are you doing?" a familiar voice sneers.

Peeking up I stare into cold grey eyes.

Sarah Young. The bane of my life. She's the queen of Maplewood High and everyone in it. Ruthless and cruel, she's always surrounded by her entourage of girls with perfect hair and perfect skin.

Flicking a lock of straight blonde hair over her shoulder Sarah gives me a look of disgust. "What is wrong with you?"

One of the other girl's peeks from behind the queen's shoulder. Amber Tyler. Everything about her screams timid. Her dark eyes look me over with worry, her brow furrowing. "Sarah, I think she's having a panic attack," she whispers loudly.

"Panic attacks are bullshit," Sarah scoffs. Reaching down she tugs roughly on my arm. "Get up, you reject."

I don't move. I can't. My body is stiff, rooted to the floor. I start to shake, tremors racking through me as a cold chill sets into my bones.

"Maybe we should get help," Amber whispers.

"She's fine." Turning to the mirror Sarah opens a small silver case, dabbing the tip of her finger into a fine white power and raising it to her nose. She inhales sharply, brushing away the remains and running a finger over the corner of her lipsticked mouth. "It's all in her head."

Dropping her gaze Amber mumbles, "But..."

Glaring at Amber in the mirror Sarah demands, "Amber, what did I tell you about your hair?"

Amber tentatively runs her palm over her thick bouncy curls. "I didn't have time to straighten it this morning."

Rolling her eyes Sarah snaps, "Well, make time. We aren't living in the seventies. No one wants to see your hideous fro."

The other girls snicker, giving each other amused looks.

A part of me wants to tell Amber that her hair is beautiful, with light brown curls that danced when she walks. But I can't speak, still in the throes of panic.

Flinching, Amber nods. "Sorry." Her gaze turns back to me. "I think I should get the nurse."

"Don't be stupid," Sarah dismisses. Kneeling down she asks me sweetly, "Do you need help?"