Skinny Boy ✔

Chapter 52: back from break, broken

I wanted the floor to swallow me up. I was wishing, hoping, praying that school would be canceled last minute for whatever reason. A tornado, a hurricane, a gas leak. There could be a snowstorm for all I care; not like I have anywhere to go, anyway. 

On this day my shoulder was particularly achy for some reason. I guess lying on my sides all day long scrolling mindlessly through my phone didn't help. I know it didn't help with my mood, that's for certain. In fact, it gave me plenty opportunity to overthink the worst case scenario. Not that overthinking was anything new to me, and I think you already know that by now. But at least when I overthought before, I could pretend I was running away from my troubles and worries while pacing along at a track or on a treadmill. 

But now, there was no escaping it, only embracing it as my eyes tore into the ceiling with a blank stare, headphones on blasting the saddest music I could find. Every now and again I'd overhear mom venting her concerns about me to dad while I eavesdropped from another room. "Remember what the doctor said?" she'd say to him in a not-so-hushed-tone. I don't think she realizes just how loud she gets when she whispers while upset. "I think they're lowering the doses too quickly. He's getting depressed. What if he gets worse? What if he gets suicidal?" 

At which point my dad would reply with something along the lines of "No, he's depressed because we took away the one thing in life he cared about. But that's only because he's obsessed, and that's not healthy. But he'll get over it. We just have to give him time." 

Healthy. Funny how I'm only healthy if it's your definition of healthy. Maybe I don't consider your lifestyle healthy, but do you see me complaining about that? No. 

I couldn't understand what it was they wanted from me. To get off my bed and turn my life around by the end of the week? Do something to change the world? Convince Matt to stop wearing socks and sandals? Anything else that seemed pretty much impossible? Who knows. 

"You almost ready, sweety?" mom knocked on my door, interrupting my strew of self pity. I jolted up, instantly regretted the decision when a round of pain and aches ran through my body. 

But I couldn't risk her seeing me moping around. I didn't think I could handle her breathing down my neck anymore than she'd already been. What if she does send me to therapy after all? "Yeah," I choked out, mentally cringing at the sound of pain in my voice. 

Real smooth, Nathan. Real smooth. 

She peeked through the door before walking in all the way. I plastered on my best I'm not in pain at all or wanting to have a mental breakdown face. "I'm heading to work. Dad's gonna drop you off on his way to work, okay? You should get there a little early, since getting around might be a little harder and all." 

"Okay," I said. Now please go away. 

As though sensing my silent message, she gave me her signature mom smile, turned on her heel, and left with an "Okay. Call me if you need, alright? Love ya." 

I uttered a small "Bye" back at her, and went back to what I'd been doing before she interrupted.

Absolutely nothing.

~

"Bye bud, have a nice day," dad waved as I slowly got out of the car. When the doctor said not to put too much pressure on my shoulders, I should have asked for a doctors note to use as an excuse not to bring my backpack. But alas, that's not how the school system works, and the teachers couldn't care less if you worsened your injury, so long as you got your books to class on time. 

So, I had to manage with maneuvering my way out of the car, and hobbling up to the door and through the hallway. All while holding my backpack draped over a single shoulder. There was a sort of limp to my step which, as one would expect, attracted a lot of eyes. Even with taking mom's advice to arrive early, it didn't stop the stares. 

One person, who stood gathered by the lockers with their friend, caught sight of me, the kid that normally carried himself with feigned confidence and an indifferent attitude, now sulking around, head ducked, hood on. She murmured something to her friend, who turned her head to catch glance of me as I passed by. 

Yeah, go on, stare at the freak of nature I am. 

Not like I can really blame you. 

My stomach grew sick with every glance, every glare, every whisper. Even the conversations that probably had nothing to do with me, but were out of earshot enough that I couldn't be sure, threatened to send my breakfast back up. 

Whether it was a side effect of steroid withdrawals or a lingering symptom of rhabdo, I didn't know. (The most likely cause was just anxiety, but I was too indignant at the time to admit it.) All I knew was that I wanted the day to be over with already, and first period hadn't even started yet. 

~ 

While the doctor didn't give me an excuse to not carry around a backpack, he did give me a note to hand to my gym teacher. It explained the state of my condition, and how important it was that I didn't do any strenuous activity. 

Coach Darrel shot me a questioning look when I placed the folded paper into his hand. He decided to answer his own question and unfolded it, reading the little scribbles that were barely legible. (Doctors handwriting, am I right?) After scanning the words, he turned to me, who was still standing there, holding my arms awkwardly while awaiting his reaction. 

His confusion melted into a confused expression. "Are you okay?" 

I could only manage a nod. 

"What happened?" he asked. 

"Just me being stupid," I muttered. I wasn't in the mood to pour out an explanation. 

"Well, I hope you feel better soon," he called after me as I walked away. 

If only. 

I didn't bother asking if I could leave the gym before slipping out the big metal doors into the halls. 

Luck would have it that coming out of the restroom, right as I walked by it, was none other than Garret. He gave me the same unreadable expression he'd given me during our period together, but this time, we weren't surrounded by other students--otherwise known as people I could hide behind, or turn my attention to. 

"Hi," he fumbled out, eyes wide. 

"Hi," I said, quickly ducking my head as I continued walking on past him. I could feel his eyes burning the back of my head, but ignored it. This time, I wasn't ignoring him because I was in an irritated mood. No, this time, I just didn't want to deal with him. I didn't want to deal with anything. I simply wanted to go home, curl up in bed, and drown in my sorrows again. 

I was just done with everything at this point. 

~ 

Oof. Okay, another late one. Go ahead, get upset. The only excuse I have this time is the lame one that I'm trying to adjust to my job. Add to that my daydreaming is being less 'controlled,' so I'm not exactly using it to spur new ideas for the story, or building and developing on ideas I already have. 
But how have y'all been? 

Thoughts on the chapter? 
How about how his thought process going through the day? 
Sorry this was kinda a boring chapter. There should be some more action, conflict, stumbling, and growth to come. 

Teaser: he's had a bad day. His typical response to this would be lashing out, or shutting himself off from others. What do you think he will do? 

Also, this chapter is dedicated to one of my best friends. Love ya, girl <3 Even you being across the pond doesn't stop you from being one of the highlights of my days.