Tell Me Lies

The Pretty Girl

THREE

The house feels like a graveyard now, like the floorboards hide the bones.

~~~

The hospital seemed more like a house to me than my own room, even though I had been asleep for my entire visit. There was more life back there.

"Come on, Camielle." I turned to my right, a tall lady with a slender figure wore a pink suit that emphasized her pale skin. Her hair was blonde, short and curls formed at the splits. She worked at school, I had seen her around once or twice. She worked as a secretary.

She smiled at me, and my lips turned into a thin line. In the hospital at least they got my name right.

She waited patiently as my fingers wrapped around the wheels, my arms pushed the wheel foward. The wheelchair shook, and as much as I tried to move the chair forward, it remained stiff. A shade of blush covered my cheeks.

The lady looked at me with some sort of pity, her head titled to the side. "Let me," she said as she walked a few meters and pushed out to the porch. "So you ready to go back to school, Camielle?"

"I guess so."

"You guess so?" She chuckled, "I don't think that's the answer your parents want to hear." I could feel her voice vibrating behind my neck. "You should be more excited. Be a bit more grateful." She leaned her arms into the handles, I sinked in the chair, my hands gripped the fabric of the dress tightly. And I pressed my lips together so hard that my sides turned white.

"They're many things to be grateful for. You're lucky to be alive." The man waiting outside of the ban slid the door open, the lady handed me over to him. He pushed me up the ramp into the van, and then secured the wheelchair. He closed the door, all the light was suddenly gone and my body was covered in shadows.

The ride was long, I begged we never arrived to Lake Wood. As soon as things started to get familiar, that's when the nausea kicked in. My stomach twisted at the sight of the familiar surroundings and the teenage population exiting their cars or walking towards the building.

"We're here." The man announced. The parking lot was crowed, but finding a parking spot was easy (1).

The stares began as instantly as I thought they would. The man wheeled me toward the entrance, where the director was waiting for me. It seemed ironic how before the accident, no one really looked at me. Now, they seemed to identify me. As the victim of a hit and run, which caused her residence of six months in a hospital, of course.

"Miss Parker," The director introduced himself formally to me. He seemed surprised by my state, a hint of pity glimmered in his eyes. I forced a smile as I felt the burning glances of my classmates as they passed by. "We're glad to have you back."

The lady with the pink costume meet us half way there, the director walked me through school and explained me in a diplomatic way that they were still unsure if I was going to re-do my grade and then added, as if he tried to me feel better, as if being alive actually justified this event; "But we're very glad that you're in a good condition, Miss Parker. It's such a joy to have you back." Good condition? I internally snapped at her and her false sympathy. She couldn't understand me even if she tried. All I wanted to do was scream; is this is what you call a good condition?

After that, I was taken to the main office, where the lady in the pink costume introduced me to one of my classmates. He sat in the seats aside from the director's door. He had his eyes locked upon his cellphone. It took a couple of seconds for him to lift his eyes from the phone.  The lady in pink coughs in an effort to catch his attention.