Rebellious

6. I Felt Like A Zombie From The Walking Dead

Cassandra...

Ugh, no. Go away, dancing deodorant can. Weirdo...

Cassandra...

Wha- Is that... Orlando Bloom. Now way. Hey, Orlando!

Cassandra.

Why is that leaf talking to me?

"Cassandra."

My head flung up, body following right after, sitting as straight and tall as I ever have. I practically could feel a case of vertigo coming on. My arm whipped up of its own accord, rigidly hanging in the air above my head. My eyes glanced about the room, realising I'm in a classroom. Panicking, they shot down, relief filling me when I find I'm wearing clothes. So, it's not one of those dreams where you're butt naked and everyone is laughing at you. That'd be embarrassing.

My eyes found the board at the front, taking in the notes scrawled across it, indecipherable in my half-concious state. "42. The answer is 42." I randomly say. Easy, 42, the meaning of life and all that mumbo jumbo.

Flopping back down in my seat, smug and triumphant with my answer, I caught view of the entire class watching me with suppressed laughter. Beside me, Mr Rogan is standing there, looking at me like I just grew a plant out of my face.

Internally I chuckle, face plant. What a twist.

It suddenly clicks that I'm currently in psychology. And I fell asleep.

Damn it!

My head shot back up to look at Mr Rogan who was still staring at me like I just announced I'm becoming the next Hannibal Lector. That would be an interesting lesson; 'let's study Cassandra, the newly turned cannibal sociopath'. I'd get full marks in that one.

I sat staring back at my teacher for a minute, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Slowly, a small grin forms on my face and the worst ice-breaker ever slips out of my mouth. "So, do you call it a milk carton or milk bottle?"

Mr Rogan's eyebrow rose up in silent question of my antics. "Carton, and I was just curious if you wanted a blanket or something considering your face was smooshed into the desk, conked out." He looks amused now, his mouth lifting slightly at the corner.

Pity, I call them milk bottles.

"Well, since you insist..." He shakes his head and rolls his eyes at me. Turning away, he starts walking to the front of the class.

"We were just about to go over the topic of schizophrenia and sum it up. I was going to ask you, but you were otherwise preoccupied." I ducked my head sheepishly at this. "Would you like to conclude to subject of matter?" That wasn't a request, more of an expectant statement.

"Alright. Schizophrenia..." I clear my throat and take a moment to gather my thoughts. Remembering some information from the textbook, powerpoints and notes we took, I prepared my answer. "Schizophrenia can be classed in two different categories. Positive and negative. Positive symptoms include the afflicted suffering hallucinations, becoming delusional, changes in their behaviour and thoughts as well as their thoughts becoming confused and disordered." Mr Rogan nods his head, everyone in the class listening intently. Beside me, Jamie is staring at me with wide eyes, disbelief clear at how I could remember all of this from our classes.

I feel a morbid sense of humor come upon me. If only they knew. I study this and multiple other subjects similar to this in my free time. Some people collect coins, others creep on birds with binoculars. I stuff my head full of information on psychological trash that anyone would deem as unhealthy.

I look up at a point on the ceiling, face schruching up in concentration.

"Negative symptoms can crop up several years before the afflicted's first, um, acute schizophrenic episode. These symptoms are referred to as... pre-...pro?" I was having a hard time remembering some of the stuff, especially this one word. What was it? Pre-normal, pro-dormal... oh!