Spectacle

Chapter 3

alMOst

I went home early today. I brought myself to the schools nurses who told me I had sprained my wrists and that I needed to go to my doctors office and have them recommend and give me a brace. My mom asked me on the way to the doctors, "what happened?" and how I managed to crack my phone screen and sprain my wrist.

It was too perfectly set, I told her the classic, "I fell." It explained everything all on its own: how I broke my phone and how I hurt my wrist. Besides, telling my parents and the doctors I fell, is easier to explain than telling them that this is all just build up from being picked for almost 2 years.

Mom had dad so worried he showed up at the doctors office during his working hours.

"Zoya, you know your dad and I love you, right?"

I nod, "I know."

"So I'm gonna ask and I won't ask again, I just want to know if everything is going alright at school. We can make a call if—"

"Mom, dad, I'm fine really. If something were going on I'd be sure to tell you, okay?"

They nod. As soon as we discuss things the nurse came in with a bandage to wrap up my wrist. While she did so, I thought about the dulling pain my wrist gave with every slight
move to distract my mind from the lies I told, my past friends that hate me, and the black, coal-like tone my skin continues to hold.

I watch the nurse as she puts on a heavy duty, more sturdy brace on. The kids are really gonna mess with me now.

"All done, keep that wrist rested. I'll have the doctor write you a doctors note to excuse you from any physical activities. Mom, dad, keep that wrist rested she should only take off the wrap and brace for showers and when she goes to bed. If that's all you guys are free to go."

"Thank you."

"No problem see you soon Zoya."

We walk towards mom's car and dad gives her a kiss, "I'll see you at home." I go into the car shutting the door behind me. I look out the window seeing mom and dad smiling with each other.

I look down at my skin and back at theirs, how I wish I had brighter skin. Frustrated with myself, I scratch at my arm hoping the dark, burnt like flesh would just come off.

When I got home I covered my scratch with a bandaid that stood out on my dark skin. I skipped dinner again not hungry, just drained wanting the school year to be over, wanting my life to be over.

...

I got to school later than intended because it took me more time to get out of bed. I just couldn't find myself to do it. Why get out of bed to be tortured by kids at school, why get out of bed if I'm just gonna go another day hating what I see.

But I got out of bed nonetheless and here I am walking into the office to get a late pass.

"Why are you late?"

"Because I couldn't bare to get out of bed this morning and get harassed here again."

I wish I said that, but I didn't, "car trouble."

She ripped the pass from its book and handed it to me before mumbling, "go straight to your first period class."

I did as I was told walking into my first period class. I open the door and was greeted by everyone's eyes and whispers, "Zoya give me your pass and have a seat."

I gave him my pass heading towards the back where I usually sit seeing someone in my spot leaving the only available desk up front.

I couldn't help but feel ridiculed as I heard laughter behind me. Are they making fun of me? I feel uncomfortable again as I can't help but focus on the laughter behind me, I know they're laughing at me everyone always is.

"Hello?"

I look up from my desk Mr. Johnson looking directly at me, "I asked you a question," he mocked and the whole class starts to whisper and my chest begins to ache.

"C-can you repeat the question?"

He glares at me, "if you didn't doze, I'm positive you would've heard my question."

The whispers and now soft giggles only got louder as I try not to embarrass myself anymore than I already have. I pinch at my arms as he continues to teach, upset with myself for my own embarrassment.

I push down the tears that so furiously wanted to fall, but I hold it in.

...

During lunch I sat alone, away from everyone else, afraid of embarrassing myself. I thought about all those posts about self harm and how people said they did it to feel better. Would it help me feel better? I pick up my things and make my way to the bathroom, taking a thumbtack from one of the school's bulletin boards.

I sat on the toilet in a locked stall contemplating whether I should do what I'm about to do.

In one compulsive motion I push down the pin and scratch myself.

I watch the blood appear in droplets. It hurt but not a lot. I throw the pin in the toilet scared of what I was getting myself into.

I head back to my lunch table, still sitting alone thinking about what I've just done and if it's worth it to keep doing it.