Spinning || Josh Brozzesi

one

TRIGGER WARNINGS: talk of suicide, self harm and depression and anxiety)

pls don't read if you're gonna be triggered

I don't want anyone to get hurt bc I love you and if you need anyone, I'm here and there are resources ❤️
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    My feet tap against the tiled floor of the office, my whole body wracking with nerves. Through the large glass windows, I can see students walking by, some of them not even paying attention and some turning their head to see me. I see recognition on their faces and my chest burns. I bow my head and focus on my nails, which were chipped with red nail polish.

"These people are taking their time," I hear Mom say in a tight voice beside me. I can feel the nerves radiate from her as well and it kind of makes me feel a little better, knowing I'm not the only nervous one. "We've been here for almost thirty minutes."

I don't say anything.

"You'd think with the amount of principles and vice principles, they would have had someone out here to see us by now," she said, letting out a sigh.

I let my eyes move over so that they're now on my mom's shoes. Black, pointed toe heels.

I never understood how she wore those almost everyday to work. Whenever she gets home from work, she takes them off as soon she steps through the door.
She doesn't have to wear them. There's nothing in her office dress code that says the women have to wear heels. She could wear her black flats or the shoes she wears to church whenever she'd make us go some Sundays.
Yet, she chooses to wear those.

This is the first time in a while I've seen her with these particular shoes on, though. This is her first day back to work in two months.
It's weird seeing her in her work suit and her hair all curled and pinned back. She's been home for so long now. I'm used to seeing her in jeans and a tee shirt and her hair is usually up in a ponytail or she has it up in her scarf.

She barely left the house when she was at home with me for those two months. She was too worried to leave my side.

And just like today is her first day back at work, today is my first back at school.

"I have to be at work soon," I hear her mumble, tapping her own feet now.

A moment later, a voice speaks up.

"Rosie Donahue?"

I look up, seeing Mr. Miller smiling down at me and my mother.

"Good morning ladies," he says. "Follow me."

Mom stands up first and reaches her hand out behind her. I grab it and her follow her all the way down the small hallway to Mr. Miller's office.

It hasn't changed at all. It still smells old, and stiff. The pictures of his family are still on his desk, the fish he caught a few years ago in Alaska is still on the wall.

I never missed its beady eyes staring at me whenever I came in.

I sit down in one of the seats in front of his desk, dropping my bag beside my feet. I feel my hands start to shake, so push the sleeve of my sweater over them and sit them in my lap.

"We're glad to have you back, Rosie," Mr. Miller says, smiling sadly at me. "We're all glad you're still here."

I stay still.

"Thank you for understanding what we've been going through, Principle Miller," Mom says, nodding her head enthusiastically. She looks like a bobble head.