Secret // Calum Hood

8

Elena

Calum made me so angry!  He’s such a hypocrite.  I hate working with him.  I wish there was a way for Ms. Brown to switch us, but no one else would give me the time of day, and she said no exceptions.  And she especially wouldn’t agree to do anything I asked of her after this morning.  I thought about my meeting with the counselor and principal that happened after school today.

“Eleanor-”

“It’s Elena,” I corrected in a monotone.

“Elena.  The poem you recently read has sparked concern, and as part of the school board policy, I am required to talk to you,” Ms. Nichols said.  Mr. Bullock, the principal, was there as well, silently observing.

“Nothing is wrong with me,” I lied, shuffling my feet.  I had to keep up the pretense.

“If nothing is wrong, then why did you write that poem?” she asked.

“I don’t know”.

“I think you do,” she pressed.

“I think I don’t.  I just wrote it okay?  Nothing is wrong with me,” I lied again.

I stared at the blank walls.  They were so ugly.  This damn school looks like a mental hospital.  An institution.  I bet that in ten years, they’ll have electrical fences and metal detectors.

“The assignment your teacher gave was to write a poem about how you really are.  Is that how you really are?  Do you really want to kill yourself?” she asked.

What a dumb question.  Why would someone admit something like that?  Especially to a dumbass counselor who doesn’t know what she’s doing, and to a principal who doesn’t give a shit.

“No”.

“Then why did you write that?” she questioned.

“I...I didn’t understand the assignment, I guess.  Nothing is wrong with me”.

I wondered if they were going to make me show my wrists.  I should hide my scars better.  I should cut on my legs.  But it’s still summer.  I want to wear shorts.  But I guess it wouldn’t be too bad...there would be less of a risk.  

“You really didn’t understand the assignment? Then what did you think it was?” she pressed on.

“No...I...I thought...I don’t remember,” I lied.  

My forehead started shining from sweat.  My palms were gross.  My stomach was in knots.

“Let me see…”

Oh shit.