My last class of the day, honors 10th grade reading, is full of immature 9th graders and 10th graders. Our reading teacher, Mr.Callanan, doesn't care for me as much as the other students. I don't care though. I ask questions like, "Will we watch a movie about the book when we finish it?" Mr. Callanan would say, "Ok Maya.... Everyone turn to page 144 in the text book!" He would completely ignore me. On the first day of school, Mr. Callanan told the class, "Because you guys are in honors, that means you are smart unlike the others in your grade. I expect you guys to have more common sense too."
I'm not even suppose to be in an honors class. I'm not an "A" student. I was put here by mistake. Does this make me dumb? Some of the kids in this class cheated their way in here but, Mr. Callanan doesn't think about this stuff. Does he?
Anyways,... My seat is by the teachers desk (like the rest of my classes). I need extra attention or I will be off task. I was sitting in my seat listening to metal. A singer said something funny in my earphones while the class was quiet. I started to giggle. The students who sat around me looked at me as if i were psychotic. I looked back at them and gave a slight smile. "Scary....," one of the students shuddered. I felt like an idiotic creep.
When class was over, I took the bus home. I sat twoards the back. The bus driver looked at me. I stared at him back. He rolled his eyes at me and shook his head. What the hell did I do to him? Do i disgust him? Am I distracting you from the road? I put in my earphones and continued to listen to music. I don't like my bus driver and he doesn't like me. He called me a lesbian just because I sat by friends, Jessica and Michelle, alot last year. There are guys that sit by each other on the bus. Does that make them gay???
The bus started to move. An annoying ninth grader who smokes weed tapped on my shoulder. "Why you always lookin sad man?" he asked me. Everyone in the back of the bus stared at me. The boy continued, "You never be smiling! You look like you finna kill someone man! Show some emotion! What's wrong with you?" His friend began to laugh. I held my breath feeling like a weirdo because everyone looking at me funny. "I have.... a problem showing emotion.... I lack enthusiasm." I frowned. "Man, that ain't good." He shook his head. "People don't wanna be around a person who be lookin scary all the time."
I turned my head towards the window. I still could feel stares from the other students. I remained silent the ride home. At home, I was alone. Both of my parents were at work and my two nieces that live with us weren't home yet. I called my mother. "Hey baby, how was school?" She greeted me happy as usual. "Um...It...it was fine." I studdered. "Good. Um... Dr. Patel just called me and was telling me that you need to see a counselor. Whats going on Maya?" "Counseling? I...I dont know why he would say that." I lied. I went to the doctors office two weeks ago. I was having heart problems. I told the doctor that my heart starts to beat fast and skip beats when I imagine myself yelling and/or killing people and when I'm sad. He had a shocked look on his face. He told me that I could be depressed. I told him not to tell my parents. He said he wouldn't but, obviously he just did. He doesn't want me to hide the pain any longer... I guess.
I don't have the guts to tell my parents that I could have depression. I always act happy around my family. My mom and dad knows that I'm sad sometimes, but if they find out that I'm depressed, they will be mad and disappointed with themselves. "Maya, have you been letting people get to your head agian? I thought we were over that a long time ago-" "I'm fine mom." I cut her off. "Alright Maya, just remember that you are a beutiful girl. You have a models body, long hair, pretty faced and you are kind hearted-" "Uhhh...yea. Mom I really have to pee." I lied again. "Bye Maya. Love you!" "Love you too mom. Bye." I quickly hung up the phone. I leaned against the wall and glanced at the knives on the counter. "I must not be beutiful to the students at school....," I thought reaching for one. I took the knife into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I lightly poked and traced areas of my face without injuring myself. I imagined how scary I would look. The backdoor flew open. I jumped and almost stabbed my eye.
My 13 year old neice, Brianna, was home. I didn't want her to see me with a knife. She would ask me a bunch of questions. I hid in the living room. "Maya?" she called. She knew I was home because my bookbag was on the floor and the door was unlocked. "Maya?...I know you're here! You can stop trying to scare me...," Brianna went upstairs. There was a loud CLANG! I dropped the knife. She came back down. I quickly stuffed the knife in my sleeve cuttin my arm by mistake.
"Hey Maya!"
"Hi!" I smiled hard.
"Can you let the dogs out? I have to pee."
"Mmhmm."
I went to the garage to let the dogs out. There was an abandoned lonely kitten walking on the wooden fence. Its loneliness reminded me of mine. I walked up and gave it a hug. "We are both lonley. Can we be friends?" I smiled uneasy to the kitten. It responded by scratching my ear and biting my hand instead. The kitten was thrown hard on the muddy ground. It got up and limped with its tiny broken paw. The kitten hissed at me. I slowly pulled the knife from my sleeve and watched the kitten hiss and somewhat cry as limped towards me. It wanted to attack me. I couldn't help not to laughing at it. Suddenly, tears rolled down my face. I re-imagined killing the boy who hurt my feelings in class earlier. An uncontrollable rage caused me to do the same thing to poor kitten.
I stabbed the kitten three times. It was still alive but, it only whined. I dropped the knife and held the kitten. My tears were being shed upon it's wounds. I couldn't take the whining of the kitten anymore. I ran to the garabage and kissed the kitten's wound before I threw it in. Piles of leaves were tossed over it to hide it. I slammed the lid on top of it. Poor kitten. I could still hear it crying from inside the trash can. I heard the backdoor open from outside. My 11 year old neice just got home. I ran back inside forgetting to let the dogs out.
At nine o'clock, my mom came home. We lectured about me in school. I joked about the students and made it sound like I was handling them well. More and more lies have been told. Mother told me to be more social and try to make more friends. I'm different and difficult. I'm an outsider who almost feels like an outcast. Its hard to make new friends because people fear me for being silent. "You could be planning a terrorist attack and no one would know it, Maya! You need to speak more!" my mother shook her head. I don't really understand how a terrorist attack had anything to do with silence. She sent me upstairs to bed. I was up untill 1:00 a.m staring into the darkness of my room and organizing my thoughts.
2 days later...
It was as if the sky rained maggots. The garbage can is filled with them. On the outside, maggots covered the top. The little worms crawled up the trash can and fell from the top. Something was tickiling my ankles. They crawled onto my shoes and made it up to my ankles. I was to be able to lucky to shake them off my ankles. I looked at the ground. The ground was swarmed with the slimy maggots. "Damn. I killed a cat and put it in the trash, and that attracted all these maggots?," I questioned out loud. If my parents found out about this, I would go to school with the inability to sit down.
I ran and grabbed the garden hose. The maggots were washed off the trash. Then, I ran and grabbed the pesticide. I dumped out the whole jug onto the ground. Hopefully, my dad wont notice it being gone. The family rarely used it.
I went to school praying that maggots haven't entered my body.
