Nobody Likes The Gray Area

Equations and Aggravation

    After lunch, we all head to our third blocks. For me, that's Entrepreneurship. Then, I go to AP Calculus to finish the day.

    As I walk to my fourth block, I ponder asking my counselor to switching AP to my 2nd block. Equations and graphs combined with my post-lunch afternoon slump sounds like a terrible idea.

    I make it to the class and go find a seat in the back. Some other kids are already here, talking and waiting for the bell. I pull out my phone and pass the time by scrolling through Instagram. I could get a head start on homework from other classes, but that's boring.

    As I scroll, I see posts from all the kids from my old school. They're all talking about how they're so happy linking back up with their besties and ready to start the new school year strong. I don't even know why I followed them in the first place when all it does is give me FOMO.

    Before I can begin my moping session over my unfulfilled high school social life, I come across a post from my old school, Millard Creek, itself. The haunting post sends chills up my spine. It's a picture of five victims—well the ones who lived and decided to stay—from last year's school shooting. One kid is in a wheelchair, another on crutches. One girl has a healed bullet wound on the side of her face. They're all smiling, grouped together for the picture. The caption reads:

  "We're still going strong, even if last year was tough 💪🏾 #keepfighting"

    I find my heart beating so hard I can hear it in my head, along with the phantoms of gunshot noises and hysterical shrieks of panic. My phone almost slips from my moist, trembling hands. I swallow the forming lump in throat and begin to lift my head so the tears blurring my vision don't fall and ruin my mascara.

    I haven't thought about what happened all summer, and now it's all coming back to haunt me. Great...

  "Focus on your breathing, sweetie," my therapist would say. Remembering her words, I try to slow my harsh, erratic breaths and breathe more naturally. I begin to miss her. Aside from the trauma, she was the only one that really ever understood before I moved here.

    When I look up, I'm met with Huey staring right back at me from across the room. He's making his way toward me and is visibly concerned with softened expression, compared to his usual hardened poker face. I sniffle and get it together quickly before he gets to me.

  "Are you okay?" he asks.
    I nod my head and force a smile of reassurance as I'm still recuperating myself enough to speak.

  How embarrassing...

    I impulsively go to Millard Creek's page and unfollow them. I don't want anymore reminders of the past.

  "Is this seat taken?" Huey asks.
    I shake my head "no", and he sits down beside me.
  "Why aren't you talking?" he inquires. "You look stoic."
    I clear my throat. "I'm fine. I'm just tired, since it's the end of the day, ya know."
  "Oh." I can tell he has a hard time believing me. I wish I were a better liar.

    I turn to my side to put my phone in my bag. Then, I change the subject,

  "I didn't know you have a brother."
  "Oh, yeah. Riley..." His eyes veer off to the side with what looks like a tinge of embarrassment. "Sorry if you were overwhelmed by him and his friend."
  "No, they're funny." I smile a bit, remembering the amusement I felt during lunch.
  "They get annoying after a while, trust me."
  "It must be fun to have a brother, though," I say. "Being an only child is lonely."
"Well, you get your own room, at least."
"That's true."

The teacher, Mrs. Strauss, gets up from her desk and starts passing out syllabi and warmups while introducing herself to the class. After we do the warmup, she starts the lesson. Since it's only the beginning of Calculus, the concept isn't to bad or difficult to grasp. When the end of class grows near, she gives us our homework and allows us to work in groups. Huey and I work together, but we mostly just talk.