Heavy Is The Cost

Last Resort

Somehow, the group's plan had succeeded. They were given permission to stay after school, and they would be watched by a teacher who would be tutoring in a classroom over. Sarah was tempted to opt out, but unlike the other two in her group, she actually cared about her grade. Thus, she was understandably angry as Tracy and Jeremy continued to stray off-topic and mess around, while she sat and attempted to focus. Although it's hard to focus with those two talking so loudly, she thought with a slight grumble. Sarah couldn't seem to concentrate, her head spinning as it always did, her mind suddenly overwhelmed with the chatter from the two, with the ticking clock, with the plastic chair cold against her legs. She felt like flipping the table over, hopefully knocking down Tracy and Jeremy in the process. Instead, she gently rested her head on the desk, desperately trying to push out the noise. Her thoughts became louder, drowning out everything else. She thought about what Mike had said to her. Fix it. Sarah wondered, how am I supposed to fix it? She tried to replay the argument she and her mother had had, but came up blank. I can't apologize. Everything I said is true. It's true she's never here for me, and that's not my fault. It's not my job to fix things. And it doesn't even matter. She still lets me go out and picks me up from school if I need it. I don't need to 'fix things', I just need to stop using the argument as an excuse. I guess I have to do things I don't want to do sometimes. I guess it's something I have to get used to again. She sighed audibly, dreading actually working on the assignment. Anything's better than doing nothing and overthinking, though, I guess, Sarah thought begrudgingly, lifting her head and staring at the screen blankly. It seemed blank. Despite the constant stream of annoying thoughts nagging her, her life, her mind, her unfocused eyes all seemed blank. It felt like nothing. Not real, not unreal- simple, pure, and dreaded boredom, dreaded burn out, dreaded exhaustion. The rest of the day had caught up with her, and her body longed to sleep. She'd been exhausted for a long time, years even, and yet, had avoided it, and even now, tired, hungry, and cold, she refused to admit it to herself. I can handle anything, can't I? Despite the thought, she remained unproductive, trying to force her eyes to focus on the cursor blinking on her screen, on the words, though her mind made no sense of them. It seemed as if she'd forgotten how to read.

Pointless, she thought, waiting now for Tracy's mother to pick them both up. What a waste of my time. She stared out the window dutifully as they rode. Tracy spoke to her mother about the excellent day she'd had, about homework, and of course about Jeremy. Sarah tried to drown out the voices, although her eyes refused to focus on the trees and houses flying past, and instead, her ears tuned in to their heartfelt and yet casual conversation. Sarah felt a pang, a pang of thick, familiar emotion. Despite the familiarity, the comfort she felt with a bad feeling, she couldn't recognize what it was. Jealousy, or sadness, or even anger? Does it even matter? She asked herself silently. What I feel doesn't matter. Gentle rain began to drip across the window of the car. The ambient noise seemed to comfort Sarah and remind her of the overwhelming exhaustion she felt, and she was asleep against the glass before they'd arrived at her house.

"You have a very beautiful house," Tracy said. Sarah drowsily lifted her head, eyeing the still house outside the window now.

"Thank you," She said, her voice thick with sleep. Tracy and her mother walked with Sarah into her home, as she wanted to see the inside of it. Sarah was indifferent to the situation, though she did enjoy telling Tracy all about the animals she owned.

"Have you eaten? Do you want something before you go? We've got Uncrustables," Sarah asked her after a moment, silently noting that they hadn't eaten since lunch that morning. Then, she remembered angrily, "Actually... we don't have any. I forgot. Want anything else?"

Tracy smiled, "No thanks, we're going to stop for food on our way back." Tracy and her mother both thanked Sarah, and then left, waving through their car windows as they pulled out of the drive. Sarah seemed drained entirely, now, both physically, socially, and mentally, and she sat on the couch, heaving a sigh. Without meaning to, she drifted into a heavy sleep.