here without you

02

It is Wednesday, and I'm sitting in English class. My seat is in the back of the classroom, next to the window, as it is in most lessons. English is one of the few subjects I like, and maybe that has to do with our teacher Mrs Peterson. She's a nice person, and unlike some other teachers, she's actually capable of teaching.

Mrs Peterson has given us an exercise we are meant to do, but no matter how much I try to concentrate on the words in front of me, it won't work. They are blurring into each other, building a mess which won't make sense. I keep forgetting them, even when I read them another time.

After rereading a sentence for about five times, I decide to give up. Instead, I decide to watch the other students. As weird as it sounds, it's one of the things I do sometimes when I'm bored in class. They usually don't notice; it's one of the advantages of sitting in the back.

I take a look at all of them - they are all focused - and somehow end up looking at Jade, who is sitting a row in front of me. Her long red hair is tied up in a messy bun, and she seems to be thinking. I notice that she's biting her nails, which surprises me. I feel like biting your nails makes you seem nervous or anxious, and those things don't fit with the picture I have of Jade. But then, I don't even know her; the things I know of her are things I have heard of her.

My eyes are fixed on her when all of a sudden, she turns her head, and our eyes meet. I feel slightly busted, and I feel my cheeks heating up. For some reason Jade doesn't avert her gaze, and neither do I. Even though she isn't sitting that close to me, I can see how blue her eyes are.

I'm almost about to do somthing stupid - like smile or wave at her - when the bell rings, ending the lesson. Everyone immediately gets up and leaves the room. I see Jade still standing by her table, looking at me. It makes me consider talking to her, but Mrs Peterson stops me from it.

"Roze, can I have a word with you, please?" she says. I suppose it's a rhetorical question since you can't say no to a question like that from your teacher.

So I walk up to her table, just as Jade passes me. We look at each other for a brief moment, and her lips curve into a smile. It leaves me confused, but pleased.

However, seeing the look on Mrs Peterson's face the feeling of pleasure fades. She's looking serious, and the frown on her face is giving her a worried expression. I'm pretty sure I know what is about to come.

By now everyone has left, and I see she has closed the door. I assume it's to give us some privacy - only it makes me feel like I'm trapped. I feel like I'm an animal, trapped in a cage. I want to get out of here as soon as possible.

Mrs Peterson is someone who likes to get straight to the point, and I'm glad about that. I don't think I could handle small talk right now - or at any time; I'm awful at it.

"I have noticed that you're less focused as usual, and I'm a bit worried about you, Roze," she says. "And, to be honest, so are some of your other teachers. You seem to be... a bit off, these days."

Well, I guess that's normal for someone whose sister fucking killed herself.

It's what I think, but of course don't say. I don't know how to reply to her without being bitchy, so I simply don't. She waits a few seconds for a response, which she then realises won't come.

She sighs and says, "Is everything alright? How are you and your family holding up?"

I have never understood why people ask this question. "Is everything alright?" or "how are you?" - it's just so bloody stupid. In most cases, the only thing you can and will answer is "I'm fine" because you're not actually given another choice.

But I like Mrs Peterson, and I know she's just trying to be nice and help me. Only the thing is: No one can help me. There is nothing anyone could do to make this better, and there is nothing anyone could do to bring back my sister. But that's not Mrs Peterson's fault, and neither is it her fault that I can't accept her help. I'm not sure why. Maybe I feel like I don't need or deserve it. Or maybe it's just because, like I said, no one can help me.

I don't tell her any of this. I lie and say, "I'm fine. I mean, Olive died a while ago, right? We're all fine. There's really no need to worry... But thank you, Mrs Peterson. "

I try to force a smile, which I'm sure doesn't look real since it isn't. But I couldn't care less about that. Right now I just want to leave, more badly than ever since the lesson has ended.

Mrs Peterson starts talking about how there's help, and that I'm not alone or something. I don't really know because I'm not listening. I hear her saying the name Mr Andrews, and I simply keep nodding, trying to act interested. He's the school counsellor, who I know I won't go to. In my opinion, he's about as helpful to me as talking to a stone would be. From what I've heard he's a nice guy, but I really don't see how talking to him could help me.

Mrs Peterson looks at me with a weird look on her face. Have I said any of my thoughts out loud? Or did she ask me a question? Or perhaps, she has simply given up on me because she tells me, finally, that I can go.