I went into school, her absence in the car was heart-wrenching. I walked alone through the hallways, not knowing if anyone knew. I walked alone in the hall, more alone than usual. Before, we were just alone together.
First period, an empty seat next to me made me cringe. She was gone, but not just for a day, but forever. He asked for attendance and the silence that ensued as her name was called pained me. Everyone looked at me with a suspecting glance that I would know what happened; I would know if she were sick or if she were skipping. I looked at each of the faces and I shrugged as cooly as I could. Without a second thought, he moved on. They must not know about it.
"Rogan Cody," he called my name and I looked up. A fog stood in the classroom and I looked around at all of the blank stares that looked at me. I blinked a few times and the fog disappeared and then I realized that they were tears that were fogging my vision. He nodded once and trusted that I could handle myself. I nodded back reassuringly and sighed slightly. No one took time to ask if I was okay. Maybe that's what happened to her.
Mr. Eades was in the middle of a lecture about cancerous cells when he was interrupted by the speaker. "Will all grades come down to the west gym, all grades to the west gym," a cranky voice boomed over the speaker. Our school's relatively small and we all shuffled to the gym, a loud clammer echoed through the hallway the entire way there. As we walked in, we all noticed the solemn looks on the faces of the teachers. They had boxes in their hands, no, not normal boxes. Tissue boxes.
We all sat down and the principal came into the gym. He cleared his throat and pulled at his tight collar, "Hello students." He looked over the crowd and his hands turned white as he gripped onto the podium. "We lost one of our beloved students," he nodded to himself once and continued, "Amabel House." Her name barely made it past his lips. A wave of gasps echoed in the gym. His once bright red face turned white as he siad her name. Whether he was upset because of the suicide on the school's hands or because he actually cared for her was no concern of mine, but I had a feeling he didn't care for her.
No one really cared about her before, but they did now. No, they needed a reason to cry too because everyone has an Amabel in them. Everyone had a dead flower in their beautiful garden that would never bloom. Everyone had a dark place within them that they retreated to when they were surrounded by nothing. This was their way to finally get rid of their pain; through someone else.
-
We were dismissed back to our rooms and the hallways were dead silent. One could hear a pin drop and it would shatter the silence. A few of the girls sobbed and others comforted them. Amabel didn't play any sports or join any clubs. She was a quiet girl who kept to herself, so I don't know how any of these people would know her.
One of the teachers, no, guidance counselors, pulled me to the side and my parents and her parents were next to her. She was a plump blonde woman and her glasses sat on her breasts like a table. I looked at her aged face and she forced a smile and motioned for me to make my way into her office. I did as I was told and walked into the office that was covered from top to bottom with uplifting quotes like "It can only go up from here" or "The first step is the hardest part." I sat down in one of the stiff chairs that was in the corner and watched as the adults wandered in. Their faces wore placid expressions and I knew what this was about. It's the 'if-you-need-help-we're-here-and-you're-not-alone' talk.
The plump lady sat down in the swivel chair with a huff and pursed her lips. She folded her hands on her desk and looked at me. "So, Mr. Cody," she stared at me and I shifted in my seat uncomfortable. She was leaned forward and I forced a small smile. "Just so you know, we are here-" she didn't finish before I cut her off.
"You're not." I mumbled and she asked me to repeat myself. "You're not here for me. This system sucks and obviously you're never going to be here for anyone because look what happened to Amabel!" I stood up and stormed out of the room. I sank down against the door as I leaned against it and put my head in my hands. I grabbed fistfuls of my hair and tugged, hoping that the physical pain could mask my emotional hurting. My face was red, but I was sad, I was frustrated. I stood up and went back to my classroom. The sound of my heavy steps didn't echo far on the carpet. The hallways were empty and I didn't think much of it until I glanced through the windows of each of the rooms as I passed them. People had resumed their daily routines of slugging through school.
I opened the door to my classroom and gave one of the quick, fake smiles to my teacher before I went to the back of my room to my desk. My footsteps were the only noise as I walked back and my chair skidded on the tile floor as I pulled it out. "As I was saying," Mr. Eades looked over the class, "this was a terrible loss. Especially hitting us hard because she was a classmate." He looked to me and I glanced at the empty blue chair that was next to me. "If any of you would like to say anything about her, you can do so now," he added and pressed his lips down to a thin line.
"She was really nice and smart," one girl piped up. She had brunette hair that was in low pigtails over her shoulders. "I didn't really know her, but she was pretty cool," she shrugged and smiled.
"She was pretty," another voice said and suddenly a slew of compliments were thrown out. They all said how beautiful or nice or smart she was. Why didn't they tell her that when she doubted herself? Why didn't they tell her she was beautiful when she didn't eat at lunch? Why didn't they tell her she was nice as she beat herself up every day about who knows what? Why didn't they tell her how smart she was when she bent over backwards to get straight A's?
People only verbalize their compliments when that person is dead, right? But Amabel was dead long before now. People have to be nice to dead people.
