Begin Again

Two - Copernicus's POV

"Xyrem. Adderal. Methylin. Ritalin-SR. Concerta. ProCentra?" I feel my hands start to shake as my fingers run over the various labels, their alternating colors and pills starting to overwhelm me. All over again. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I take a step backwards, away from the bottles, but mostly, away from the Narcolepsy.

Narcolepsy.

I feel my nose gradually wrinkle and upturn, my eyes squinting at the atrocity that is my life. Placing my palm against my forehead, I exhale, my breath hot against my skin. Narcolepsy wasn't supposed to define me. Not my words, my doctor's. But what was I without Narcolepsy before? A girl with no hopes, but too many dreams. One more body in a sea of high-school students. Another failure. A possible flunk. I purse my lips. Probably all of them.

Glancing half-heartedly at the mirror propped up against the stall door, I blow my bangs to the side, their frizzy, curlicue-like whirls settling against my pale forehead. Rubbing the .99, low-quality, highly-flammable, medium-toned, coral colored lipstick against my lips, I watch as it chaps my already chapped lips.

Perfect. Peering even closer into the mirror, I rub the lipstick off of my teeth, my powdery blue eyes already looking tired and empty. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I almost laugh. It's not even 10:00 a.m. and I'm already looking like I sewed blue swatches underneath my eyes.

Another side affect of the Narcolepsy. Horrible nights. Sweeping my fingertips across my eye bags, I squeeze my eyes shut...again. Dropping onto the toilet lid, I put my head in my hands.

"Good Ghandi," I bite my lip as the almost hypnotizing waves of sleepiness start to come over me. My head starts to bob, my eyelids going heavy.

It's all I can do to drop my backpack to the floor in time.

. . . . . .

"Yo! Could you hurry it up? Lunch's almost over, and I need to take care of business!" There's a bang as someone kicks the door of my stall, lurching me out of my sleep.

I gasp as consciousness gathers its grasp on me again, knocking me into reality. Desperately pushing down on the handle, I listen to the expected flush, carrying nothing but forgotten dreams.

Forcing myself to my feet, I groan as I notice the path of wreckage I've left behind. A Regents Earth Science textbook is pushed two feet across the stall capacity, open to the Reproductive System.

I shudder.

Loose-leaf seems to be raining down on me, ruining what little chance I had of finding my two-part essay. But what's worst, and I think we all knew was coming, is the tell-tale mayonnaise and drool combo on my lips.

It's disgusting.

Rapidly wiping my sleeve across my mouth, I drop the half-eaten chicken patty into the toilet. Grabbing all of my things, I prop the door open with my foot, placing my back against it as a grungy looking girl walks in, her eyes lined with coal. I smile in a friendly gesture, but only recieve an irritated glare in return.

"Gee...thanks." Mumbling underneath my breath, I sling my backpack over my shoulder, the plastic handles of the plastic bag already ripping. Running my hands underneath the sink water, I settle into my usual inspection, checking my face for any remaining stains or markings, only to find my slight reflection staring back at me.

Allowing my head to droop to the sink's rim, I take in a shaky breath. Determination still seeps into my veins somehow, keeping my cheeks warm and my steps steady. Brushing a finger over the locket around my neck, I manage a grimace.

"It's going to be okay, Cope. You know I'll always be here for you."

Twirling the gold chain around my finger, I twist and let go, blinking everytime it flies past me. I flinch as it suddenly halts to a stop.

A crinkly smile comes to mind then, along with furrowed eyebrows and the kind of tan that only comes from hours of consistent work underneath the beating sun.

Golden rows of wheat seem to pop up out of the cracks in the tiles, an evening sunset rising out of the open air. Fall days and earth fill my nostrils, the sounds of crackling flames and crunchy leaves haunting my ears, echoing through my mind.

The sweet sounds of the creaky porch and the cool swathing of the hand-sown blankets envelope me, their emotions running through me like a creek.

Stepping stones lead me out of the bathroom, their smooth bodies weaving through the water. I feel droplets decorate my hair, leaving me breathless.

It's just the thought of him that drives me crazy. Drumming my fingertips against my pocket, denim strings winding their way around me, I grin, a wild, carefree grin.

Maybe I am a little crazy, but he always said I was his kind of crazy.

And that, that was kind of worth it.