You're Not Enough

Chapter 7

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I found it. I forgot the Seniors lockers are on the 4th floor. The hallway is filled with conversation; I feel like most of the conversations are about me. Even though I'm facing my locker, I can feel all eyes burning into my back.

I grab the lock and turn the knob. To my surprise, it opens. I always had difficulty opening my locker.

It only took four years for me to get the hang of it. An imaginary hand pats my back. I put my book bag in the tiny locker and grab my books for the next three classes after lunch.

When I close the locker, I am pushed into them. Ashely, Monica, and Brittany are standing in front of me. They didn't physically push me back into the lockers, but they're so close my body automatically jerked back into them.

I feel like an elf compared to them. Why are they so tall?

The noise from me backing into the locker has now alerted everyone that something was happening. Great now, there's a crowd forming.

"Jayda. Youre back!" Ashely says excitedly but sarcastically.

"Yeah." I roll my eyes.

"Boarding School, right?" Monica chimes in.

"Right," I press my lips together.

"Well, Jayda, as Senior President, I speak for everyone when I say we are happy youre back. Especially the football team, I know they're thrilled at your return. We were all sad you missed homecoming; there was really nothing to see though we lost, sadly." I remember my dad mentioning that in our drive back. "I think the team was stressed. Probably because you weren't here to, you know, to take the stress off."

The crowd that has formed burst into laughter. I look towards them, and they get silent. I guess being accused of being crazy has its perks. Not enough, though; Ashely still had the guts to walk up to me. The bell rings, signaling that lunch has officially started.

"Well, we'll catch you later," Ashely says before her, and she and her friends walk off following behind her.

I sigh and inhale a deep breath. I'm not going to lunch. I refuse to. Me just walking in will cause a huge scene. I don't want anybody looking at me; I don't want anyone whispering when I walk past.

I pick my books up from the floor that I hadn't even noticed I dropped. Tears are now flowing down my face. I know what Ashely means when she said the team lost because I wasn't there to take the stress off. I can't believe people have come up with such nasty rumors about me. I've never been with a boy, let alone do something to a boy. I would never do that. I grab my books and head downstairs to Ms. Moore's office. I hope she didn't go out for lunch today.

I walk down the stairs to the first floor and head down the hallway. The warm salty tears flow down my face even faster. I walk into the main office, and Miss Gatsby is not at the front desk. Which means Ms. Moore stayed in and allowed her to go out. I walk past the front desk to Ms. Moore's office. I open the door without knocking. To my surprise, she isn't here. Instead, there's a boy with black hair sitting in the chair I was once sitting in only an hour ago.

He turns around, and I see him, Ryder. It's Ryder Adams; he turns his head, acknowledging me.

"I'm sorry. I thought Ms. Moore was in here." is all I manage to say. I hope he heard me. I barely got the words out. I bit my bottom lip, trying to hold the sob that wants to escape my mouth. He looks shocked by my presence. Did he not know I was here?

"I was just...um leaving." He says with his deep raspy voice.

He stands up from the chair, grabbing his black notebook off the seat beside him. He has on a white shirt and black jeans, and black boots. He looks taller, if that is even possible, he's always been taller than me, but now he looks like a giant. He's bigger too, not weight-wise, but he's built bigger, more athletic. Well, he is the captain of the football team.

Oh god, he's on the football team. Does he think I did those things they're accusing me of? Is he saying them about me also? He's facing me. I'm still by the door holding it open. "Are you okay?" he asks.

I look up into his dark green eyes. "Yes." I lie.

His hand reaches above my head. He's now holding the door open. I let go and walk around him. When I turn back around, the door is closing, and he is gone.

...

Schools over now. Ms. Moore didn't return to her office. I saw her after lunch; she told me she was in a meeting. I wonder why Ryder was in there?

My last three classes were gym, Spanish, and then science. Luckily I only have two classes with Ashely, English and Spanish. I did, though, have gym class with Ryder. He laughed along with the boys who made their sexual comments towards me. I guess hes just like them. He most likely only asked me if I was okay because he felt sorry for me.

I'm waiting outside the school for my mother to pick me up. God, I wish I didn't have to go to this stupid therapy session. Then I could've just walked home. My mom's black car pulls up in front of me. I open the door and hop into the car.

"How was school?" It is the first thing she asks me when I get in.

"It was okay," I answer honestly. It was okay. It was exactly how I expected it to be. People stared, people made their jokes.

"Are you ready for your session?"

"No, I'm not." I say bluntly," Did you know dad told Ms. Moore about me going to therapy after school? And that I was going to therapy? He even gave her money to keep her quiet. Well, not her exactly but to the school." I ramble.

"Yes, I know. We both thought at least one person in the school needed to know what was really going on. So then, If you had an episode or just needed somewhere to go to relax, they would understand why."

"Okay, so why didn't you guys just tell the nurse. Why did it have to be my principal?" I say, rolling my eyes.

"I don't... it was your dad's suggestion. He thought she would be able to do more for you, depending on how the school year went."

"And what exactly do you think will happen this year?"

She sighs heavily, "I don't know, Jayda. It's just better to be prepared."

I rest back into the seat and relax my head against the cold window. Before I know it, we are pulling in front of a building called Crossland Mental Health Clinic. It's strange because I have never seen this building ever, and I lived in Crossland, Pennsylvania, all my life, and I don't ever remember passing it.

Go ahead, she's expecting you. Tell them your name, and ask for Rachel.

"You're not coming in?" I ask her, sounding like a child.

"No, I have a few more errands to run. But I'll be here when you get out. Your session is only forty-five minutes to an hour."

"Okay." I can't help the nervousness that comes in my stomach. I hate that my mother isn't coming in here with me.

I'm not just nervous because of my mother leaving me, but because walking into a therapy session is like walking into an interrogation room. One slip up, and you'll be cuffed and on your way to jail.

Of course, in my case, I will be put into one of those white straitjackets and then thrown into that white truck.

I walk up to the door; these sessions are really a waste of time. There's nothing this lady can say that will fill the emptiness I have inside me.

Nothing can. Nothing will.