Vivian is caught shoplifting, causing her parents to reignite an old tradition. They send her to Clear Lake Academy, a tight-laced academy for girls. There she meets a childhood friend and is forced to confront emotions she didn't understand back th...
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"Your teachers have noticed you aren't engaging with your schoolwork... It's, unfortunate, you were making such progress."
There was a fan burring by the door. The two bookshelves by her window were getting dusty. The potted plant was dying, crackly at the edges. There were framed photos on her desk, dust gathering around their frames too, but not as obviously.
"I guess I'm just incapable of being good at anything people want."
I hadn't seen Taylor in a week. We didn't have any of the same classes so there was no finding her by coincidence. We had to seek each other out, but she just didn't have the time.
"The attitude isn't necessary, Vivian."
Vivian is a stupid name. Vivian was the name of a fifty-year-old woman who on the daily regretted never having children. Vivian read books to the kids in the library and gave them candies with their parent's permission.
Vivian was a horrible name for a disaster of a teenager.
"Vivian?"
I started wondering why I was here. I used to think I loved Taylor more than life, but maybe I was lying to myself. Maybe it was all I could do to stop from giving up completely.
She was beautiful and I probably had a crush on her when I was young. But scared people love what's familiar.
"Vivian."
I wanted to love her. But I wasn't feeling anything for her anymore.
So why was I still here? I could've packed my suitcase and ran off into the woods. I don't know if I could find my way alone, but I could try, couldn't I?
"Vivian!"
But life doesn't work like that. I'd die in the woods or live on the streets if I even reach the nearest town.
"What's wrong with you?"
"I'm stuck," I finally said, "With no choice but to keep rotting."
We were supposed to go through this at the office or something. Humans are supposed to have this crisis in their middle age when they realize they'll be working their job till they die and go by a sports car to cope.
I was supposed to have the universe ahead of me. Normal teenagers are pissed at their parents for a 10:00 pm curfew but sneak out to parties anyway. They grab life by the balls and don't consider the consequences. I used to be like that.
"You have plenty choice," Abrams wrote something down. "You have control over your actions. You just need to see that."
"If a man comes up to you with a gun, it's not freedom when you put your hands in the air. The choice to listen or let him kill you isn't freedom."
The room got real quiet.
I was expecting a referral to the school's official psychiatrist but Abrams must've felt like she had it handled.
"I understand being a teenager is hard, especially under your circumstances, self-inflicted as they may be. Stopping isn't easy, but going is harder."
There was a pause, "If life is a living hell with a caring family and good schooling, what is the reason that you haven't stopped?"
I had no caring family, nor love for my quality education. I didn't even know if I loved my girlfriend anymore. So if my homework for this session was to find a reason, I'd struggle.
