Hushed

Chapter Nine

The piercing tone of electrical school light filters into my vision. Blurry. Then slowly getting clearer. Where the mess am I?

My heart falls and splashes acid all over my stomach.

The nurse's office. I'm in the nurse's office. I frantically look around. Eye test posters. Cliche waiting room chairs. DO-NOT-CROSS-THIS-POINT tape on the floor even with her desk. The nurse....

And him...

Oh. The auditorium. Panic. I must've fainted. Oh no...

She notices me then. Oh hi sweetiehow are you feelingare you alright? Her words jumble together. I try to process, but my mind is still a bit fuzzy.

She probably took my temp and called my---

My PARENT!!!!!!

OH NOOOO nonononono she'll kill me she'll actually kill me. She'll tear me into tiny pieces. No. I caused a scene. She'll kill me.

I have to get out of here.

I clamber from the patient chair thing and begin to walk out. I'm halfway to the door.

Gotta get out.

Have to get away.

Have to be normal.

Oh gosh. Oh gosh.

Ah. He's grabbed my wrist. No. Leave me alone. You don't understand. She'll kill me. I can't answer your questions. Can't. As in not able to. Please let go.

He pulls me back to the chair. I'm gonna be sick. I have to get away. Why won't you let me get away.

Calm down. We're not going to hurt you. He tells me.

Oh I am not worried about you. I need to get out of---

I glance down. He's holding my hand. I stare at it a moment. No one's ever done that before.

Do these people actually care about me? I start to smile but stop. Remember, they don't know you're messed up. They care about you now because they think you're perfect.

I glance at the nurse. Sweetie, can you tell me what happened? No. I literally cannot. I shake my head. But wait... Maybe there's something...

I glance around the room until I find a pen and paper. I grab it and walk back to my chair. I lean down to write.

I realize then that my hands are shaking. I've never talked to anyone besides my mum before. What if she finds out?

I glance at them to find them both confused. So I begin to write.

Sorry to scare you. I'm kinda shy.

He snorts slightly. Sorta. He muses.

I don't like talking to people. It freaks me out. I can write though. That's not so terrible.

I show it to them and watch them read it. Pity floods the eyes of the nurse. Guilt floods the boy's.

It works. The boy turns to the nurse and explains what freaked me out. She nods over and over. He apologizes over and over. I smile and shrug over and over. I'm doing it. Talking to people.

Oh. Mom. One more thing... I write. Did you phone my parent?

She looks at me with what she thinks is understanding.

Oh no, honey. I haven't. I was just about to--

I cut her off by writing, please DON'T. She looks at me, concerned. Crap. I search for an excuse. I quickly write, I don't want her to worry is all. She knows I have anxiety.

Appreciation and sympathy are evident on her face.

Alright, then. I won't call. I hope you can get better with people one day. Ha. Not a chance. I'm here to talk--or, well, write, she laughs, if you need me.

Smile. Yes. Trust. Haha. Not going to happen. No one can know. No one will know. There is nothing to know. Because I'm normal. Ha.

Mister Rogers will take you back to your class. She gestures to the boy. Have a better day, and do be careful.

Nod. Just agree. Okay. Sure... Just don't let mum find out. Please please please, God, don't let mum find out.

I follow him out the door.