Catch Me (Synacky)

Chapter Twenty-Two: Zacky

Author's Note: I am so sorry about the slow updates, guys! I used to be able to post every other day, but things have come up and I just don't have much time anymore. In addition, I have major writer's block and I'm trying to work through that...

Anyways, enjoy this! Let me know what you think of it! I'll try to update sooner next time...

-foREVerADeathbat

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When I have something scheduled, and it goes wrong and I’m not able to accomplish what’s on my agenda, I get upset. It makes my stomach churn and I feel sick and I usually throw a fit.

So this boy dying was a hindrance, if nothing else. And not being able to sleep with Brian that night made it worse.

I started to rock that night, but forced myself to stop, lying rigid in bed and counting prime numbers.

Here is a fact for you. Django Reinhardt died when he was 43. Dad also died when he was 43.

But they died from different ways. Django died from a cerebral hemorrhage and I’m not sure how Dad died, but I would guess asphyxiation. Asphyxiation is the most common form of suicide in the United States.

Michael died from asphyxiation too.

That night felt longer than most nights, but it wasn’t. We still had to stay in bed for 9.5 hours (from 9:30 to 7:00), but it felt longer because I was not asleep for most of that time, and I was not with Brian and he had my pet.

That morning, Johnny came out, so we went together to brush our teeth.

I told Dr. Brooks what had happened. He asked me how I felt about that. I told him I was offended.

“But why would you be offended over something like that?” he asked.

I do not lie, so I just didn’t respond at all. I couldn’t tell him about what Brian and I had been planning.

But I yearned for our chance to escape so much more now, because it felt like it would be years until I would be able to kiss him again.

And I decided that the answer to whether or not I loved Brian was yes; I did love him. Because when I was with Brian I felt different than I had ever felt before. I felt like I could fly, which is impossible, but nevertheless, I felt it. I felt like when we were together we could accomplish anything, achieve anything. We were musicians and the world was our orchestra.

When we kissed, we created a symphony.

But how could I explain that to Dr. Brooks? It was something I didn’t even understand myself.

 So we decided to wait some more, to wait for everything to calm down before we snuck out. And that night, I watched Brian instead of falling asleep. He was having a nightmare.

The aid came by to check on us, and I forgot to pretend to be asleep. He asked me why I was still awake, and I said I wasn’t tired.

He brought me a sleeping pill. Because of that, I was groggy and irritable the next day.

My vision was blurry when I took a shower that morning because I had just woke up, and shampoo got in my eyes so I threw a fit and rocked and screamed whenever anyone got close to me. I wanted to fight the aids that came to calm me down, but I remembered what had happened the last time I had hit an aid. I was placed in isolation.

I wanted Brian. I wanted to press close against him and I wanted him to kiss me and sing to me and make me feel nice inside.

Sometimes, I can pull my mind away from myself and imagine wonderful things or work out math problems and I can almost forget that I’m going through a difficult time.

I imagined that I was with Brian, and we were in space, where everything is quiet because sound does not travel through space, and there was no gravity and I showed him the trick to working Rubix Cubes.

I came aware slowly sometime later. I was in the nurse’s office at the institution. I could not move. I was having a cataleptic fit and I began to get claustrophobic, began to throw a fit.

But I stopped myself, mind focusing on math problems, and what it would sound like if you programmed a computer to make sound waves like a guitar using mathematical formulas. And slowly, I was able to wiggle my fingers, then my toes, then rotate my wrists, and eventually, I was stretching my sore back and rolling my shoulders.

“I must say, you’re only the second person to have had a cataleptic fit here, Zachary.” A nurse came in and saw that I was moving, looking down at her clipboard. “You threw quite a fit this morning, didn’t you?”

I stared at her, heart racing in my chest, trying to process her words. I didn’t know whether or not I should answer her question, or if I could even trust her. She was standing in between me and the door.

I realized I did not have my pet with me, and let out a whine, curling up so I could rock back and forth.

“No, don’t you start doing that, Zachary. I need to take your vitals, make sure you’re ready to head to class.”

3.1415926535…

My breathing was fast and shallow, my palms were sweaty. Where was Brian? Where was my pet?

…897932384626…

Numbers flashed before my eyes as I sat, muscles rigid, waiting for the nurse to take my blood pressure and measure my heart rate. She shined a light in my eyes and wrote something down, then she sighed. “I’ll have someone come down here and take you to class.”

I was able to change from the flimsy hospital gown I was wearing into my own clothes, and while I was in my room, I collected my pet, putting on its hat and scarf.

Instead of doing my worksheet on comma splices in Language Arts, I turned my sheet over and calculated as much of pi as I could. Calculating pi is easy, because all you do is divide 7 into 22 and keep solving until you get tired of it or you run out of room on your paper.

I noticed Brian looking at me, and when I looked at him, he waved to me. I made my pet wave back, and he smiled.

We found each other after math when we were heading back to the main building after school. I told Brian about the catalepsy, which was why I wasn’t in the morning classes.

Then, Brian got hit in the face with a snowball.

I turned around, expecting a few of the antisocial kids, but it was this strange boy with a twitch who had borderline personality disorder. He laughed, but I don’t think it was in a mean way (because sometimes when people laugh they are only trying to be cruel), and Brian chuckled, reaching down to scoop up some snow.

Suddenly, the yard plunged into chaos, aids were scrambling, trying to stop kids from throwing snowballs and running around. I did not like this. I crouched to the ground as a snowball pelted my back, covering my ears and, before I could scream, Brian had grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet. “Go!” he hissed in my ear, shoving me forward.

So I ran, following him blindly, my pet clutched close to my chest. He took my free hand, and we ran behind the school building, to the fence that ran around the institution.

“Climb, quickly.” He whispered, and I put my pet’s ear in my mouth so I could use both hands, feet slipping when they wouldn’t fit in the holes of the fence. Brian made it to the top first, widening the barbed wire at the top so I could slide through without getting scratched, then we scurried down the other side.

“Hey! Stop!”

An aid was calling after us but we didn’t listen. We just ran and ran and we looked at each other, and then we started laughing.

We were free.