Shift

Broken

I had no one to sit with in English. Erik sat in the back of the room with a few guys from the football team and didn't once look at me. I took my usual seat, and Jess came in ten seconds before the final bell and sat in the empty seat on the front row. Everyone looked at me questioningly, even the teacher. I slumped down in my seat a little and pulled my sweater sleeves over my hands, my stomach hurting.  

People talked about me all morning. I could tell by the way they eyed me and whispered. A few times I caught the words 'Erik' and 'Jessica' and 'together,' and each time I wanted to go home and curl into a ball under my blanket.  

Isaac had woken me up crying three times. Apparently he had woken Amanda up even more. My dad woke up and didn't even bother to comb his hair or shave his five o'clock shadow before lumbering off to work. Poor Amanda hadn't showered in two days. Her hair, normally so perfect, was in a bun on top of her head. She didn't even seem to notice the pieces that landed in her face or the way it was dangerously close to falling altogether. There were bags under the bags under her eyes. Little Isaac seemed like the only happy one, and that was only until he'd started screaming for no reason.  

I was tired. I was grumpy. I was upset. I was alone. 

When the bell for lunch rang, I took my packed lunch to the library and found a comfortable chair in the very back corner behind a huge bookcase. I pulled my feet up into the seat with me, sitting cross-legged, and texted Chris. 

'This is horrible.' 

'I'm so sorry. What's happening?' 

"Erik hates me. Jess hates me. Sat alone in class. Alone in the library at lunch.' 

It showed that he was typing a message. I felt bad for burdening him; he was on the way to talk to Calvin Bedford as per his promsie to the ghost in my living room. I hurriedly typed up another message, trying to turn the situation into a joke. 

'If you care about me, you will kill me before soccer practice.' 

He stopped typing and abruptly started again. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

'Lol. Nice try. It will be okay. I promise. I'll pick you up tonight and we'll get ice cream.' 

'Pinky promise?' 

'Pinky swear.' 

I smiled to myself, feeling a tiny bit better. 

'Thanks. :) Now go find this guy and hurry back!' 

'Will do. Good luck.' 

'You too.' 

I put my phone back in my pocket and slumped against the seat, looking at my lunch with distaste. I reached for the leftover spaghetti I'd made last night and forced myself to eat half of it, knowing I would get sick at soccer practice if I didn't eat. I hated my metabolism.  

I choked an entire bottle of water down and decided to be somewhat productive. Really, I wanted a distraction, and my French homework did the job until the bell rang. 

I considered ditching the rest of the day, but a stern look from the librarian when I threw my trash away sent me scrambling to get my things together. 

I sighed as I flopped into my desk, breathing a little heavily because I'd had to sprint to make it on time. 

After an extremely boring lecture on the urinary system, I was slowly putting my books into my locker and attempting to give myself a pep talk.  

"It won't be so bad," I murmured. "We have a whole team. Someone will talk to me. Maybe she will. It'll be fine. Soccer is great. I can do this."