I walked into my homeroom class where the teacher welcomed me. "Oliva, is it?"
My arms remained crossed, and I quickly walked over to my seat, ready to bury my arms underneath my desk. "Yes," I replied then sat down in my seat.
She walked behind her desk and began rummaging through her desk. "That's my daughter's name. I just love that name so much."
More students started pouring inside, making me more and more nervous. I felt goosebumps form on my arms. I wasn't used to not wearing a long sleeve shirt, which made me feel cold. What the heck was I thinking? Why did I give my jacket away like that? I wanted Rose to like me so much that I risked my scars being shown to everyone. It's not like I had one or two scars. I had many. Not an excessive amount, but enough for someone to call me insane.
I probably looked suspicious having my arms underneath my desk and my head over my desk. I just avoided eye contact. A few kids snorted when they passed me. I began turning red. I probably looked like a laughing stock, but that was better than people staring at me like I was crazy. I've seen people react to scars and cutting. They weren't friendly. I was aware that you could be sent somewhere for that. I could only imagine what the people in my class would think if they saw my arms. I didn't have to go to public school to know what other people would think of me for cutting.
"Olivia, please sit up. We don't sit like that in my class," the teacher said. That statement snapped me out of my thoughts hard. I looked up and saw her smiling at me.
By now, all eyes were on me. This was a serious situation, and I was about to have everything hit me at one. I slowly lifted my head up but kept my arms underneath. The teacher didn't have it. She placed her hand on her hip and frowned. "Put your hands on the desk, Olivia. Please sit properly."
I heard the seriousness in her voice. I crossed my arms and sat up, hoping no one would see.
"I said put your hands on your desk," she said.
Give me a break! I screamed in my mind. My heart was beating faster than I could think. I was about to uncross my hands when, suddenly, the front door opened and someone barged in disruptively. Before I could look at the door, I saw Rose, and she wasn't wearing my flannel shirt. She wore some black shirt that was a little too big for her.
"Excuse m-"
Rose faced the teacher and held up my flannel shirt. "I just came to give her jacket back."
"That is no reason to just barge in my class like th-"
"I'm going," she cut off the teacher once more. Before handing me my jacket, she gave me a weak smile. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
I quickly put it on while everyone watched her leave the classroom. The teacher sighed then continued with the class, finally leaving me alone. I rubbed the sleeve of my flannel jacket. I then breathed in the scent. It smelled like the expensive oils Shayla bought from Arabs in stores. It was strong, and unless I washed it, the smell would stay. I relaxed in my seat, telling myself that everything was okay. For some reason, I wanted to cry. My hands were still shaking, and my chest hurt so much. This wasn't my day.
***
During lunch, I sat outside hoping I'd see Rose, but she never came out. Perhaps she was in the library. I wanted to check, but I didn't. Rose didn't look so happy when she had seen my scars. I was scared that she thought I was a lunatic or something. I wanted to slam my fist against the table.
"I guess you weren't in the mood for apples today?"
I turned around and saw Robert holding two almost red apples. He sat beside me, uncomfortably close. I scooted over an inch. He handed me an apple, and I looked at it instead of him. Eye contact wasn't the easiest thing for me to do, especially while he was that close to me.
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The Lovely Suicide Children
HorrorThey say every dead person has a home. Olivia found her home with The Lovely Suicide Children. At first, it was everything she could ever imagine. However, the first impressions are usually wrong. (Trigger warnings)