The Week (work in progress)

The pursuit of happiness. I remember the first time I read those famous words, written on a poster in my kindergarten room, I thought it simply meant that in America we were all meant to have happiness. Now I realize, glancing absentmindedly out the window of my 12th grade lit classroom, that I had missed the most important part: pursuit. To give pursuit is to chase, to attempt to catch even if that means failure. And I sure as hell felt like I had failed.

So there I was, sitting watching the same old grump rattle on about some book with huge words for an hour. His name was Mr. Wright but everyone calls him Karl. Karl seemed like the kind of person that would be really cool if he drank three beers but in this sober state I found the urge to stand up, throw my desk over and scream how I didn’t want to read anymore. I was already on my way to college so what’s the point?

Great now Karl is looking at me very expectedly.

“Abby? Did you hear Katie?”

“What? Sorry no I didn’t…” hear that dumb slut that jumped in the shower with two senior guys our freshmen year. She tends to talk in a pitch I think even dogs can’t hear.

“Well would you start up again for us on page 54? About half way down.”

I start reading. To be honest, I like reading. It clears my head and allows me to focus on other items on my agenda. Item 1: what will I have for lunch? Easy, I brought a bag. Filled with food obviously Item 2: where will I sit for lunch? In the hallway by the druggies. Not with them just by them. Item 3: will I figure out what the pounding in the back of my skull is? No it’s been there a while it’ll lighten up soon. Item 4: who to call on next? Dane.

“Dane” I say and he gives me a look of hatred. Guess he was trying to sleep. I give him a smirk. Damn it Abby, stop doing that.

Not like I’ve been doing insanely well in that area of my high school experience. There was a time that I was really skilled at making friends and it was one of my life goals to make a ton of friends and keep in touch with all of them. But that’s over.

I start to zone out. This happens a lot. It used to be the everlasting effect of the drugs I was taking from Doc. I still see him but I made it clear I don’t want my pills anymore. He told me that it was fine with him and that my parents had asked for the pills in an attempt to save money. He’s probably the only friend I have left. At least that I talk with regularly. And I pay for that. What a friendship.

Garfield always talked about how he hated Mondays. I bet he would really hate my life then. It feels like every day of the week is a Monday. I no longer have the excited feeling of a Friday nor the laze of a Saturday. It’s all the same to me. Just the sad longing for a new day.

It’s a Tuesday but again feels hopeless. I wake up and drag myself out of bed and into the shower. The hot water runs down my face and chest and warms my entire body. This feeling of safety is the one time that I let myself unwind a little. I can’t unwind at school it’s too risky to let my guard down. But here, within the fathoms of warm water I let myself collapse against the cold wall, feeling nothing. Going numb.

As I lean there with water dripping down my chest, I run through my minds the things I need to do today. This is always an easy and helpful task but one I must complete every day for me to be functional at school. The first thing is: finish showering. Then dress yourself. Then drive yourself to school. Go to classes. Be normal. Smile. Oh, and hold the door for people. Never really made sense why I need to; don’t they have hands? I had to open it myself but whatever, it is demanded of me. Then drive myself home. Eat dinner. Smile. Go to bed.

It’s a crappy feeling to know what your day holds before you even walk out the door.

Who was it that said “The new morning brings endless possibilities?” Was it anyone or just a timeless cliché that everyone uses? Well it’s a lie. For me at least. I don’t know what other kids do on their mornings. Probably jack off in the shower and run to school ready to try and bang anything that has two holes and a face. We’re a very sexual generation.

I turn off the water, get out, and feel the coldness creep into my bones and start my chills. It is without doubt the worst feeling in the world and I grab a towel and cover my body with it to dry off the water.

I go to the mirror and start to brush my hair and get ready. This used to take about twice as long when I wanted to impress him and make other guys jealous when he wrapped his arm around me, but that was over. As I finish applying my very thin layer of mascara, I look at myself. I mean really look.

I drop the towel. Stare at my body. It is still thin even though I stopped with tennis. I stopped everything but my body still refuses to gain weight. I guess I could be classified as a “hot” person if I made the attempt and flaunted it more than I would ever be willing to do but I would never.

I stare at myself and become self-aware. I see myself and know who I am. I’m Abby. I can be whoever I want to be and not worry about people’s judgment. I then don’t understand how I had forgotten that, I used to know it all the time. I wrap my arms around myself. Not worrying. Pointless.

The doors slam open after my palm breaks into them. I sprint down the halls searching for the numbers. I can’t breathe, I can’t think.

“531.. 531” I can hear myself say out loud as my eyes dart from one side of the hall to the other.

Another set of doors I push open. I was just here not 5 hours ago. How could so much have changed? One phone call. Immediate need. I raced down.

520… 522… 526… 530… 531.

I jerk to a halt and shove at the door. It doesn’t move. I shove again; and again, and again. Still nothing. I hit my fists against the door. I kick it. I throw my weight against it. I can’t see. It’s all a haze. I repeatedly hit the door.

“He can’t be, he can’t be.” I gasp.

Someone pulls me away. I can feel their grip on my hoodie. I try to pull away but to no avail. I shout “Let go!” but they don’t listen. I need to see what has happened behind that door. I need to. No matter what it is I need to see. If I don’t see then it never happened. He’ll come walking out the door with that smile, the smile that I picture in my head when I’m sad. I need to see it. I need to get away. It can’t have happened it can’t have. Please, no don’t let him go. He promised to never let me go. He promised. He promised.

A powerful arm curls around my head and neck and all goes black.

I slowly back out of my driveway. There are two small children playing ball in the street. I slowly pull up close to them and one grabs their ball and runs away with it. I turn onto the main road that will take me right to school. I reach over and take down the GPS. My mom must’ve used it last night to get to a house. She’s a realtor and hates getting lost or arriving late.

As I wait at a stoplight I see four people standing in line for the bus. This is strange because the bus doesn’t get to that stop until another hour or so. People must be desperate to get a seat I think to myself.

I pull into the school parking lot and into my usual spot near the end of the lot. As I pull the keys out of the ignition, I drop them on accident and spend the next few minutes searching for them. Not an unusual occurrence as my hands are always very cold this time of morning and I fumble with things a lot.

I love walking to the building from my car. I can just walk by myself and not be bothered. When it’s raining it’s the best. Everyone is rushing inside while I slowly walk and let the water seep through my shirt and soak me. Sadly today it is slightly cloudy with the spring sun just peeking its way over the school auditorium’s roof.

I walk in the door and take the usual 20 odd steps to reach my locker. As I’m putting away my things I hear someone approaching. It’s Mindy. Great.

“Hey Abby!” She screams, right in my ear. Too much coffee this morning I suppose. Or cocaine. She probably can’t tell the difference anymore. Can’t tell that no one wants to talk. Especially me.

Mindy and I used to be really good friends. That would be fine only that it was in kindergarten when everyone was friends with everyone. We had had like a dozen play dates or so but that was pretty much it. Only after everything took place she started hanging around me more. I suppose it’s her way of helping. So many people have their own ways of helping, some better than others. I think I prefer the endless supply of cakes and food from Mrs. Norbury down the street than Mindy’s constant babbling.

I honestly don’t know what Mindy was talking about. I usually just figure it out as I go.

“… so anyway apparently he told her that he never loved her and they had broken up remember? Well now they’re back together and I have NO idea why! Isn’t that just wild?”

“Yeah that’s pretty crazy.” I chuckle for extra measure and start to walk away. Not surprisingly, Mindy follows.

“Where are you going? Oh, that’s right! History! Same as last week! And the month before! HAHA! Where are you gonna go to college? Have you decided yet? Have you been accepted anywhere? I’ve gotten into all the places I wanted to but my dad isn’t sure what the right place for me is. Oh, I just hate him sometimes! Me and you should totally room together if we go to the same place! I’m gonna miss you so much if we don’t! I just couldn’t stand it Abby! Oh, is this your class? Okay I’ll see if I can find you after school! Okay bye!!”

Good god, she was worse than usual this morning. Apart from the fact that I had no idea where to go to college, I would never room with Mindy. The very thought of it makes my scalp itch. (HAHA) And there’s no one I will miss from this school. I need to get away from everything here and never ever return until I’m rich and famous. At night sometimes I dream that as I am handed my diploma, I grab the microphone, make some impassioned speech about how I’ll miss none of the people here and how everyone can suck it. It’s pretty impressive. Damn stage fright.

We are lying down. We’re in a field of mostly tall gasses but there’s flowers dotted here and there. He told me it was a hidden gem that he had found with his friends a long time ago and had always wanted to show someone it. We had walked for a little while, just talking. I mostly don’t pay attention. I don’t mean to be rude… I really don’t want to be. I just can’t believe it. I’m with him. And I love him.

“Do you want to sit up?” It’s a simple question, yet it sounds amazing coming out of his mouth.

“Yes, please.” I don’t know why I get so freaking formal around him. I’ll have to work on it.

He sits up across from me. Saying something about something funny that happened somewhere in some time. I don’t care. I just watch his mouth move and laugh when I think it’s necessary. After a while, he just starts looking at me. With his head kind of cocked like he’s trying to figure me out.

“What?” I ask. Smiling big at him.

“Oh, nothing. you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

I put my hand in his. “I’ll believe you. I promise.”

He takes a deep breath. Pauses for a moment. “Well. I don’t think you’ve heard a word I’ve said all day.” My face goes red and I look down, suddenly really embarrassed. “Wait, Abby no! That’s not a bad thing!” He laughs before continuing “My grandpa used to tell me that if I was ever in love with a girl, I’d know it because I wouldn’t be able to shut up. He also told me that she wouldn’t say a thing and just eat up every single dumb thing I say but no matter what it is, she would not be listening. Would you say that’s true?”

I stop for a moment. “Did you make that up?”

He laughs big and loud. “Yeah I kind of did I guess, my grandpa died when I was little I don’t really remember him but I have all his useless information stored in my head.”

I laugh, a little more squeaky and high pitched than I would have liked. I hear it and get embarrassed, say a quick “sorry” and put my head down.

“Hey.” He pulls my head up with his hand so that I’m looking him dead in the eyes. “I want to know the real you, you don’t have to worry about me judging you.” He pauses, builds up a lot of tension. “Abby, I think I love you.”

It felt like a movie.

I had to wait a long, long time to answer. At least it felt like it. I had so much running through my head I couldn’t make sense of it. In the end, all I could think of to say was the most important words someone can ever possibly say to another person: “I love you too.”

It was just two months in. Only our sixth date. But it already felt like it was going to last forever.

The rest of my day, before lunch, passed by without sign of anything interesting happening. There are no foreshadows as prominent as black clouds and booming lightning in real life like those in the movies. There was a little thing though. Something that I should’ve thought about more at the time. I was sitting in third hour Physics when I got called on. It was a simple question that I had raised my hand to get the participation grade for the day in. After that, Josh, who sits in front of me, turned around and started talking to me.

“That was a good one, real tough and complex?” he smiled at me, obviously being sarcastic.

I laugh. “Shut up! Like you ever answer any questions.”

“I answer enough!”

“Uh huh yeah, whatever.”

Josh was a peculiar boy. Most of the kids in our grade thought he was gay. To be honest, when Posh Josh walked through the doors in freshmen year with his tight khakis, button down short sleeved checkered shirt, and mismatched shoes I thought he was too. But after a while he toned down his dress just a little and after the summer before sophomore year got a lot more attractive. He was now just that guy that girls whispered and giggled about. Why he would want to talk to me I had no clue.

Also, we had never had an exchange like this before. I didn’t know why I was acting like this, all flirty and whatnot. It just wasn’t something that I would ever do to myself. It’s too risky. This was my black cloud.

Josh started again “Hey, so have you heard about the party that’s going down this weekend?”

“No.” In actuality I had, I just didn’t want to let him now that I did so we could keep talking. I hate Physics class.

“Well I guess someone’s parents are out of town and so they’re throwing a party. It should be fun!” He then took a long pause, as if expecting me to say something. Then: “You want to go?” That was my booming lightning.

I think for a long second. You know how some moments are lost in time for you? They just seem to last forever and you can’t get out of them? Well this was one of those moments for me. I couldn’t decide what to do. Here was this genuine nice guy who obviously wants to know me more, asking me to go to a party where there would probably be fun high school things happening. But I can’t. I need an excuse. It’s not me. I don’t go out and do stupid things. I don’t want to have a one night stand with Josh even though he’s really nice and cute. I need to stay home and be in peace and quiet. I can’t go. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Oh, okay. Some other time that you’re less busy okay?”

“Yeah, rain check.” I laugh quietly and resume Physics.

I couldn’t believe it, high school! The place where it would all happen for me! As I walk up towards the door I can feel my heart swell. I was so excited I could hardly believe. I counted to calm myself down. Down from 20 and then back again. I push open the door, still counting in my head, to a river of people all seeming to know exactly where they’re going. I had no idea where I was going. I smile at people passing by, feeling very pretty and perfect in my outfit that took weeks to pick out and everything that was perfect about today. Everyone else just looked depressed and upset.

I walk over to the office and look for my name on the very large table with everyone’s names, locker numbers and combinations, and most importantly their classes. I slightly forget my name for a second, looking at everyone else’s names and wondering who I’ll become friends or best friends with. After finding mine, I open it up and pull out my locker and see that its 212. I smiled at everyone that I passed my way to my locker.

I pack up my bag and swing it over my shoulder. Check my back pocket for my phone. Still there. Grab my keys out of my handy little cage thingy I had gotten ages ago for my locker. And out the doors I am. Walking steadily towards my car and hoping no one will see me or try to stop me. No luck at all today.

It’s Josh again. He had been hounding me for the past few days. Probably about that party. Ive done my best to avoid him but some guys just can’t be avoided I guess.

Quickly as I reach my car, I think of excuses. They flow readily to my head as I’ve used them countless times. I need to get home, it’s too open out here and the air is cold and I don’t like cold and I hate school and my mom needs me home now or I’m grounded or I need to get gas or I’m hungry or I need to go to court or I have something frozen in my backpack. Any excuse would do I just needed to figure out which one in my arsenal to use.

“Hey Abby!”

“Oh hey!” I say as I look up from pretend playing with my keys. “What’s up?”

Josh leans casually against my car. Making sure I can see him and I can’t drive away. “So I walked all the way from the other side of the senior hallway to try and get you to go again tonight.”

Goddamnit man, just leave me alone.

“Oh, well thanks but I can’t go I have to get home…”

“Grounded huh? Or maybe you have a cousin’s birthday party to go to? Believe me Abby I’ve heard them all.”

Man, this kid is smarter than he looks. Must just be that I only see him in Physics class. He’s really bad at Physics. Well what do I tell him? That I am grounded? Birthday party? I don’t know, he did walk all that way just to try again; he must really want me to go…

Careful Abby. If you do go you need to watch yourself. You made a promise remember? No matter how charming or nice they appear you cannot let yourself get into it again. It was too much last time, you just can’t.

“No. I just need to go home. School sucks is all.” I don’t look him in the eyes. It would make me want to change my mind I just know it. I can’t let that happen. This is the right choice, isn’t it?

“Okay” he stops short, I keep walking. He raises his voice to tell me “I’ll just cancel the whole thing then okay? Let me know when you might want to I’ll put it back on.”

I walk faster to my car. Open the door and jump in and lock the doors.

It was all for me? Why? Why would he do that? He was probably just making it up, right? No one can have a crush on me. That’s impossible. Everyone stares at me, looks at me, watches me. All done out of fear? Hate? Sadness? Remorse? Not love. Not even like. It’s impossible that one person, a BOY as well, would go that far out of his way just for me. That’s happened before. Not in high school. Not again.

I lean my head into the steering wheel and start to cry. It’s all too much. I hate this place. I have to get it over with, it has to end.

“One month” I whisper to myself, “until I can leave this place. Just one month, c’mon Abby you can do it.” I haven’t prep talked myself for a long time. At least a year. old habits die hard I guess.

I need to get a grip. What do I do to calm down? Make lists. Always lists, that’s what Doc tells me. Item 1: start the car. Item 2: drive home. Item 3: do homework. Item 4: eat dinner. Item 5: watch a movie or just relax. Item 6: go to bed. There we go. All nice and ordered. Now I know what to do.

I do item 1, then 2, and the rest follow.

Thursday at last.

I was still waiting in Doc’s waiting room. All white and nice, gray folding chairs for all us crazies to sit on. I had asked him one time why the chairs they gave us were so uncomfortable and he told me they were the nicest ones he could find that can’t be used as a weapon in any way. I hadn’t yet asked him why he needed those kinds.

Doc’s real name is Harold R. Maize, but he told me on our first day that I could call him whatever I liked. I clearly remembering saying “Well, you’re a doctor right? I’ll think of something.” And he’s been Doc to me ever since.

These sessions with Doc are hardly the best things that happen in my weeks. They can be fun sometimes though. Sometimes we play chess, or cards. Sometimes we just talk. About my life and his sometimes. He’s married with two kids. Older girl and younger boy. He says he wishes they were switched so that the boy could protect the girl. He won’t tell me their names though, or his wife’s. He said he had problems with that in the past and didn’t want any more troubles. To compensate, I don’t tell him anyone’s names. I refer to people as boy 1 or girl 2, depending how many people are in the story. The numbers always change too. Doc says my ways are confusing but I just say “So what’s your son’s name?” and he says “Fair enough.” I like Doc. He’s one of the few people I can open up too and I’m really glad I have him for that. If I didn’t it would be bad.

“Abby?” the pretty receptionist called out the door. I won’t say her name. To tell you the truth I don’t know her name. It could be Abby for all I know. She doesn’t matter in this story though. Her only role is that she calls my name when Doc is ready for me. So if you really wanted to get to know her, too bad. All you get to know is that the only thing she said to me that day was: “The doctor will see you now.”

I stand up and walk down the hallway and into the office I usually am early and that’s really the only reason I have to wait at all. Most people probably just walk on in. Not much to walk into however. There’s a small desk crammed into the corner and two bookshelves and a filing cabinet overflowing with papers. In the middle there are two armchairs, a small love seat, a bean bag chair, and a rocking chair. All of them rather close together, making it hard to get into all of them. Doc says several of his patients like the sense of coziness they get in the office. If it bothers anyone he takes them outside; we’ve been there a few times. Mostly we play chess outside when its nice because the air helps you think he claims.

“Hey Abby. How you doin’?” Doc looks more tired than usual. Must be having a rough day,

“Good. Just got off of school, don’t want to go tomorrow. You know, the usual teen stuff.”

He chuckles and starts the session how he always does. “Alright, so do you have anything would want to add to the agenda?”

I think for a moment. What’s been on my mind recently?

“Umm… just add ‘boy’ and ‘crying’”

“Okay. Well do you want to start with boy?”

“I don’t care.”

“Okay, well I’ll start from there. So what’s the deal with this boy? Trying to have sex with you and he’s just really into your feet? Because that’s called a ‘perv’.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “No! He’s just a really nice one and he… asked me something.”

“We back to the feet thing already?”

“NO! He invited me to a party.”

“So what’s the big deal?”

“You don’t know?”

“I’m only human Abby.”

“Well I haven’t gone on a date or to a party since before The Week.” That was the code word we used to say before everything; the accident and the week following it. It helped to not bring up bad feelings every time we mentioned it.

“Well you know what they say: there’s a new beginning to everything.”

“They don’t say that. No one says that. You made that up, Doc.”

“Maybe I did, probably not. Does that make it any less true?”

“No, but you don’t have the best record with patients. So I’m a little reluctant to take the advice of a quack.”

He laughs again. “Say what?” He’s always using corny old sayings. I think he does it just to annoy me.

I give him a stony look. This conversation has gone about the same as all of the previous ones of the past year. It’s just being friends. I like it. I feel like it’s what I really need right now.

“Anything to say?” He’s still trying to get the answer out of me.

“Well it’s just a feeling I have. Am I right?”

He pauses. What’s he thinking? Could I really get an answer out of him? I was only joking, but seriously? All he has is alcoholics and me… something must’ve gone wrong.

“You’re half right. There was an accident. That’s all I will say.”

“An accident like mine?”

“It was basically the same thing. Just a different way of going about it.”

“Did you cause it too?”

He stares at me. Mouth slightly open in disbelief. “Why would you even say that?”

“I like people trusting me and so I tell the truth when they ask it.”

“We’ve been over this Abby. It was an accident you couldn’t have prevented it much less caused it remember?”

“That’s how I feel.”

“Do you still feel responsible? For what happened?”

“Yeah. I was a problem. It was the easiest way out of the problems.”

“Why do you feel you were a problem?”

“This isn’t on the agenda.” I was beginning to dislike this conversation. So what did it matter how I felt? There’s nothing that can change the truth.

“I’m putting it on the agenda.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Too bad girl. It’s done. Now why do you feel that way? For almost a year you’ve been coming to me every Thursday of every week no matter what. And every Thursday you sit in that chair and dance around the reason why you’re here. So maybe I should’ve asked you this a year ago.” Even though he didn’t know me a year ago. It was more like 10 months. “Why do you come here?”

Well now I’m in a bit of an uncomfortable situation. I couldn’t tell why I was feeling the way I was because, to be honest, I didn’t know why. You know how when somebody asks you what you want to do and you have no idea? Well maybe you don’t. But for me, I never know and I don’t know why I don’t know, I just don’t know, you know? Well maybe you don’t (I’m a bit confused myself now) but I feel like that a lot and I felt like it then. It sucks.

“I don’t know why. I just do, okay?”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“Because it’s a dumb question. You know why I’m here. Parent ordered.” Worse than the courts.

“You couldn’t have talked them into letting you stop? You know what I think?”

“No I don’t. I’m not telepathic.” A favorite line of his whenever he’s trying to get me to talk to him.

“Well I think that you like these sessions. I think you think they help. Do you think that?”

“Now it would be really insulting if I said I didn’t now, wouldn’t it?”

“Just be honest please. My ego can take it.”

Did I enjoy my time here? Well to be honest, no not really. But then again I really love it. I still sometimes see it as a chore to do but I remember when I get there how great Doc is and what great friends we are becoming to be. I answer slowly and deliberately.

“Yes Doc, I do love my time here. I tend to think of you as my last remaining friend. You’re the only one that knows the whole story and the only one that I trust with it. You trust me with your feelings sometimes and I know you really well. I feel like if you were my father I would respect you and love you with all my heart. Life is cruel sometimes; I know that more than anyone I suppose. I hate who I’ve become a lot. It’s been a long road to get here and what do I have to show for it? Freaking out because a boy invited me to his party? I can’t deal with a lot of this stuff that I have to everyday and I need help wherever I can get it. So yes Doc. I like our sessions together. I look forward to the rest of them however long they may last.”

Doc smiled, looked down at his notepad and said “Want to move on to ‘crying’?”

I smiled back, “Yes please.”

“You know something? You look pretty when you laugh.”

“Oh stop it, everyone looks dumb when they laugh!”

“No, I’m serious. If everyone else looks gross then I guess you’re the only one that looks good when she laughs.”

Typical debate. There’s no sign of an actual argument but we can play back and forth like this all day long. I’m sure if I went on for much longer you’d all be sick to your stomachs by the time I was done.

“I love you.”

I smile and look into his eyes before answering “I love you too.”

I can’t imagine my world without him.

He pulls me into a hug. We’re laying on his bed, pictures of our faces stare smiling at us from the far wall. We stay in our hug for a while. Neither one of us moving, just enjoying being held by the other.

I’m the one to break it.

I lean up on his chest and kiss him for a long time, our tongues dancing together to the beat of our hearts.

I walk out of Doc’s building, with a little more peace of mind and feeling like I have someone I can trust more than ever. It doesn’t last long.

I get in my car and open my phone. Three new text messages. All from Josh.

The first one just says “Hey” like he wants to talk. Can’t have been that though because less than two minutes later he had texted again. “Party?” he asks like it’s something that I showed an interest in. he needs to get what I’m trying to say. Like now.

I start to type out a reply to shut up and leave me alone when I remember that there were three.

It reads: “Hey I’m sorry about that. That was stupid of me. It’s clear you don’t want to go and I should just stop trying. Just wanted to let you know that the offers up if you ever want to. Or if you want to go get lunch together sometime that would be cool too. If you need someone to talk to you can always count on me. Sorry again.”

Well. That was interesting.

Have you ever had an opinion of someone change in the fraction of a second? Now he seems like the nicest guy in the world. I text him back. I don’t really remember what I say but it was a nice text apologizing for blowing him off and that I would love to get lunch or something with him.

It felt like the first time I could have a positive relationship with a boy.

Two weeks later. Me and Josh were talking nearly every day and were really enjoying each other’s company in the lonely steps from each high school class to the next. I sat with him at lunch and we entertained ourselves with comparing lunches, making fun of people passing by, and seeing who could throw their trash into the bin from the table. I can’t remember smiling that much since The Week had passed.

It would have been perfect.

But on a Saturday afternoon Josh texted me. “Want to come over? I need help with Spanish :/” I needed help to so I thought why not?

I walk up to the door. Ring the doorbell. No one answers. I knock. He texts me “come in it’s open.” I walk in, feeling super awkward.

“Josh?” I call? I’m very confused. Where are his parents? I think to myself.

“I’m up here. Come on up.” His comes voice from the stairs.

Here’s a moment of complete confusion and fear. I knew that call, I had heard it before. I hadn’t been ready for it then and I wasn’t ready now. I didn’t think he was like that, and maybe he isn’t… it can’t hurt to check right?

“Where are you?” I called out.

“I’m up here.”

“Where?” A little louder this time

“I’m in my room! Come on!”

I slowly walk up the stairs, one by one, then I’m close to his door at the top of the stairs. I peek around the corner, hoping not to find a half naked boy staring at me.

But it’s just Josh. Sitting at his computer. Giving me a weird look.

“What are you doing? You came up here SO slowly.” he laughed at me and I started laughing too, realizing this was a friend. Someone I could trust not to try something like that with me. It made me happy.

I explained Spanish to him, he needed the help because his teacher refused to speak in english even when she knew no one could understand her. Everyone called her Senora Salchicha based on her short stumpy sausage-like fingers that she would wave whenever someone asked her a question in English. She’s never been very keen on the joke but doesn’t make an effort to cover it up so kids continue to make fun of her. I would feel bad but she failed me on a test for getting up to sharpen my pencil. She can burn for all I care.

Me and Josh worked on homework for a few hours before his parents got home, then his mom made us a kick ass spaghetti sauce and pasta which we ate with his parents.

After we finished dinner we went back upstairs to gather up my stuff and say goodbye.

Josh handed me my bag “Is that everything?”

“Yeah I think so, thanks.” There was an awkward pause in which we kind of just stood in the middle of his room and stared at each other smiling.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I reached up and hugged him tight. I leaned close to his ear and whispered “Thanks so much.”

I walked down the stairs and yelled goodbye to his parents, walked out the door and ran to my car, not able to stop smiling.

I had a friend. A real friend. Not someone who was being nice to me because of how fucked up they thought my life was. Not someone that talked to me because they wanted to see me naked. Someone who helps me with homework and doesn’t expect anything in return. Not someone that would ask me tons of questions to make me feel like they were listening or someone that just doesn’t listen at all. And not someone that my parents pay to talk to me. It was the best day of the whole year so far. I wish I could say they were all that good, and some were. But more weren’t.

People are always moving. It’s the dash to the elevator pushing your coworkers, the rush of traffic making cars crash into each other , a hurried walk ignoring the sunrise. Everyone has someplace to be, something to do. I can’t remember how many times someone has rushed out the door when I needed them the most. When you’re so focused on you, who has time for me?

“Good to see you again Abby.”

“Its just been a week Doc. Like every week!” I laughed.

“Long enough to change a life isn’t it?”

The days following the hug I saw Josh and hung out with him everyday before and after school. It was so much fun and such a relief to have someone that I would look forward to seeing in the hallways. Sometimes we would pass by, lock eyes, smile, and high five each other. Yeah it was a little dumb and childish, but as Ferris Bueller once said: “So is high school.”

I don’t know if you have ever been to high school before, or if my high school is even normal, but I hate the halls of school. They’re like a gigantic bottle neck. It seems that the carpenters and builders made the halls intentionally four feet too narrow so if you want to walk through the hall and there’s people on the sides talking they form a bubble, and you can’t go around because the other people walking towards you are coming through and it is just horrible. I’m convinced it was all a giant plot to get us kids to be better friends but they forgot about how much all of these kids hate each other.

So in the halls on a Monday morning (of course) I got bumped into the biggest jock asshole of the school: Jake Barrows. This kid. Oh man, let me tell you. I just can’t stand him. There’s some people that you cannot describe they are just the worst people and everything they do bugs the crap out of you. I’m sure you understand.

So I run into him and immediately he starts mumbling.

“Uhh… Hey! Watch out.” And as he turned back around, he eloquently added: “bitch.”

Wrong move Jake.

I don’t know what it was that morning. Maybe just the extra good I had been feeling from hanging out with Josh. Or maybe it was because I was late this morning because I stopped to get coffee. Coffee which I was still holding. Very hot coffee, mind you. I just couldn’t stand him for one more second. I needed to get revenge. I did it in the name of all the small kids he had ever pushed out of his way or any other person that took his nasty, cutting comments. I still can’t believe I did it but I do not regret it.

I stopped. Slowly turned around. Took the lid off my coffee. Said “Hey. Jake.” Watched him turn around with his small, unintelligent, piggy eyes over his broad face. And I threw the steaming hot coffee on it.

He collapsed to the ground. I yelled “BITCH!” and ran away.

I knew someone was going to be coming to get me but it didn’t matter. I stood up for myself and for everyone else. They didn’t ask me to but I’m sure they appreciated it.

I was sitting in Math class when they came to get me. The little preppy sophomore office aid was waving a note in my face that said “come NOW.” While I was walking to the main office I noticed everyone was looking out of their class at me. They all wanted to see the person that had committed a crime in the senior hall that morning. I pretty much just ignored them or just smiled back in a demented sort of way. I mean, who cares anymore? We’ll be graduating soon and those kids won’t even remember in five minutes.

I walked into the office and was told to sit down. Jake was already sitting there, face all red. Either from shame or my coffee, I was not sure. I sat down and looked away from him. He looked up at me and smirked in the douchey way he does. Like he knew that getting a face full of coffee was worth it to see someone else get in trouble. So childish Jake my, my.

“You’re Abby aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yep that’s me. Alan right?” I replied

“No.. I’m Jake.. You don’t know me?” he seemed surprised, like everyone should know his name. Of course I did know who he was I just wanted to either make him feel stupid or just make myself feel better. Probably number two though.

“Sorry.” I tell him and occupy myself with looking through my bag for a nonexistent pen, I only keep pencils but its helpful to get out of something if you pretend to have one and not. For example I was getting out of having to awkwardly talk to Jake.

“Hey you guys can come on in here.” said Mr. Van, the principle. He was a rather large man. And I mean that in the nicest way possible. In a mean way he was so freaking fat that his sides brushed the door frame when he walked through it. I mean seriously this guy was insanely huge. I guess he went here when he was in high school and was an all-star football linebacker and so was automatically on the top of the list for a principle job. Seems a bit unfair to me but whatever. Then I remembered. Jake’s on the football team. There goes my fair trial.

We followed him into his office and sat down.

“That was a hell of a game you were playing out there with your team last night Jake. I was walking out to my car and saw you fellas so I watched for a while. Hell of a team you all are, I just wanted to tell you.”

“Thank you sir.” Jake said. Wow, cool it man. I have no chance with you dropping ‘sirs’ over here.

“Nothing like the glory days though let me tell you. Those were the says that it was a sport not a game like it is today. I have some stories let me tell you!” he rambled on.

“I’m sure it was sir.” My god! This is like out of the 1950s. I mean there’s no way he has ever talked like this to any other human being. This was just increasing my frustration, I was at boiling level.

“Ah well those can wait for another time. SO. I hear you two got into a little scrap today. Tell me what happened Jake.”

What? I don’t even get to say a word?

“Sir, I was just walking through the halls, I was a little tired from staying up late studying for a math quiz we had and suddenly, Abby throws her coffee in my face! I will be lucky if I don’t have to get skin graphs sir!”

“Aye, well I’d agree with you on that, you are a pretty lucky boy though. I saw you make a touchdown catch last night that was nothing if not luck!” he laughed about two minutes too long at his own joke before continuing. “Well, Abby what do you have to say about this?”

What do I have to say? A great many things. First off, you suck at your job. Secondly, you need to get on a diet man. Third, this kid is the nastiest person to walk the planet and you’re treating him like Superman. Fourth, I didn’t do anything! I was just walking and overreacted somewhat. If anyone should be blamed, it’s the barista that made my coffee too hot.

But I knew he would never listen so I just told the truth.

“I was walking in the hall. I went to walk around Jake and he bumped into me. I was gonna just walk away but he told me to watch out and then he called me a bitch and I kind of freaked out. I know I shouldn’t have dumped the coffee on him but it had been sitting on the floor all first hour and it was pretty cool by that time and I wouldn’t have done it if it was hot. I’m really sorry to both of you for causing trouble.” Damn Abby, I have to say you did good there, a very nice speech you did not act mean or immature at all. You’re the bomb girl.

“Jake, is any of that true?” Van asked.

Jake looked at me, smirked quick enough just so I knew and could see it, then turned back to Van and said “No.”

I got all tense. He was lying. But there was no way to prove my case. The only people around were his football buddies and they wouldn’t tell the truth at all either.

“She never ran into me and if she had I would have apologized, not called her a bitch.”

I wanted to hit him. Throw some extra hot boiling coffee in his face this time. But I couldn’t do anything. I just sat there. Helpless and hopeless.

“Well you two, I think one of you is lying but I can’t prove either one of you is. I think you will both have to serve in detention tonight.” Van said. At least he is being fair a little bit, I thought.

“But sir, I have training tonight, I don’t think coach or the college recruiters would like me to miss a day because I had something randomly thrown at me.” HOW did he sound so convincing? This kid can barely read! He seriously struggles through every word like some giant dumb animal.

“Oh, well maybe we can work something out. Abby, looks like just you will go tonight.”

“Okay.” I said. What else could I say? I knew Jake would just continue making excuses until Van told him he didn’t have to do it. There was nothing I could do except accept my punishment and just get through it.

Is the rest of the world like this? Do people get special treatment just by what kind of person they are and it really doesn’t matter if they’re nice or genuine just how talented they are? I hope not. I had a sick feeling however that it wouldn’t.

“You know what you’d look good in?” he asked me, with that stupid grin on his face. I loved it so much.

“What would I look good in?” I ask, just playing along.

“That.” he says pointing to a long, elegant, light pink dress.

“What? Are you kidding me? I’d look like a giant cake!” I laugh.

“I’m not joking! Come on, you’re trying it on for me!” he pulls my arm into the store and before I can object the girl behind the counter is asking me for my size. I tell her and then I’m taken to the dressing room. I slowly put on the dress and feel how perfect a fit it is for me. It was like this one was made just for me. How did he know?

I walk out and he starts applauding. “Beautiful! I knew it!” he laughs and grabs me, twirling me around.

“Stop it! We’ll get yelled at!” I say, but he doesn’t stop and I can’t stop laughing.

Eventually he pulls me close and we start swaying in time to the cheap elevator music they have playing over the speakers. We’re dancing in the middle of the store, I’m in a prom dress and he’s in jeans and a t-shirt. Just a typical Saturday afternoon.

I find that driving after a long day really helps to relax me. I mean, I never really know where I’m going I just like to drive and lose myself. One time I got seriously lost and didn’t get home until four hours after school was done. Man, I was in trouble then.

Today, however, I had a destination. I was going to a small little pond that I had discovered. I found it by going off of the main road to another small road to another and then another before I drove by and parked. It was really peaceful and quiet. It reminded me of a house early in the morning, when everyone is asleep in bed and the whole world seems to be holding itself in before gushing out in its own beauty. I loved the place. And that’s where I went that afternoon.

I rolled up to the pond and rolled down the window. The air felt good on the back of my hand as I leisurely waved it out into the cool brisk spring afternoon.

As I as walking over, I noticed an older man standing on the small dock that jut out at an awkward angel to the rest of the pond that had been my destination. He was fishing, sitting on the small side bench with one leg looped over the ‘NO FISHING OR DUMPING’ sign attached to the dock.

I wasn’t sure what to do. I had never seen anyone here at the pond before, much less an old guy. So I walked over, sat by him and stared off into the pond.

“Name’s Earl.” he said, reaching up to touch his sun stained baseball cap.

“Abby.” I said, giving him a quick smile.

“Abby..” he said slowly, getting a feel for it in his mouth. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“Oh.. Well thank you.. Earl.”

“You’re welcome”

We just sat there in silence for a while, me thinking and him fishing. After a few hours had passed and he started to pack up his gear, I stood and started to walk away.

“See you around again sometime Abby?” he asked after me.

I thought about it. Pros and cons? Didn’t need to take the time.

“Yeah, I think so Earl.”

And that was the start of my Tuesday relationship with Earl.

Sex isn’t like its portrayed in the movies. There’s no guy that sweeps you off your feet, kisses you deeply and lays down in bed with you while the camera pans to the window. The product never lives up to the commercial. The first time is always uncomfortable, painful, and messy. The worst part was that I wanted to do it so badly, I just wanted to make him happy. All my self was into this one action, this would free us from our youth, this would make us happy. It was what I wanted going into it but, I mean, there is no way to simply will that into a single action. And why would it make us free and happy? Its just sex, people do it everyday, sometimes more than once. It doesn’t make you cooler, it doesn’t help in life all that much. It just feels really good and for teenagers it numbs the pain just enough to make it through another day.

Mindy was waiting at my locker. Fuck.

“Hey Abby! How are you doing? I texted you last night, did you get it? It said it sent but I mean, those things almost never work you know?” she paused just long enough for a giggle before continuing “I wanted to ask for some help on this homework but I figured it out it’s okay!” At this point she had started to realize that I didn’t want to talk. Probably because of the way I hadn’t really given any reason to think that I had even noticed her standing there. She looked at me for a second, thought about what to say next, and pulled out this gem.

“Can you believe that we’re almost about to graduate? High school has gone by so fast its just nuts, its been so great!”

I turned. Looked at her right in the face. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, Abby.. I’m sorry I didn’t mean anything like that.. I’m sorry..”

“Whatever.” I said and stalked off.

What a dumb girl. High school is not great, nothing about it is great. Want to know the reason it goes by so fast? It’s because its so awful. When you think back on the last four years, you’re gonna remember all of the good times. The time that you had a great night hanging out with friends, when that cute girl smiled at you, all that kind of stuff. So for the majority of high school students, especially ones that want to do well, high school amounts to very few of those memories. High school goes by fast and thank goodness that it does or else everyone would be dropping like flies in these hallways.

It was Thursday again, another visit to Doc. I was excited to go see him but I was worried we would have to talk about Jake. The waiting room was very full today, it sometimes got like this. Doc told me he overbooks himself too much because he wants to help as many people as possible but most of them were just there to refill drug prescriptions. I was sitting watching the pigeons make nests on the window sill and half heartedly reading the copy of US Weekly on the coffee table. These magazines are all the same. They plug the thing full of these phony interviews with celebrities that no one in their right minds should care about but since they are in this fancy looking little book then obviously they should. Then they start sprouting their inorganic, vague opinions on how the world should be, like the one I was holding was talking about euthanasia and this pretty airbrushed girl by no means supported it. I feel bad for the people who take these bullshit stories to heart, and actually base their lives off of this shit.

“Will you shut up? You’re killing me!”

Uh oh, a room full of the crazies is hardly a safe place.

In this instance, a boy, looking about 15 or so, was yelling at his overbearing mother, trying delicately to wipe his nose as if he were a toddler.

“Oh dear, please just hold still, I’ll get it for you.” she told him in a hushed tone, trying desperately to look like a victim.

“I’m 18 mom, I can get it myself!” Well looks like I got that one wrong.

“Will you stop it, lady?” A man from across the room said. He had long scars from cutting himself down his arms, a neck tattoo and a pack of cigarettes hanging out of his front shirt pocket. I had seen him in here a few times before, always kept quiet and to himself. There was one time when he was murmuring something to himself in what sounded like French. His bloodstained jeans were worn thin from years of neglect and pain.

“Oh we’re just fine thank you!” she cheerily replied back, still trying to wipe the dirty nose.

“He said stop, so just stop, you dumb bitch.”

“Hey! None of that man.” The slightly attractive guy in the corner said. I hadn’t seen him before. He had sandy blonde hair with red Ray Bans perched on top. These contrasted with his professional black suit and tie, along with an elegant watch. “We don’t need you talking like that.”

“What do you know about it pretty boy?”

“What did you say?” he shot back.

A small child started crying. I watched in terror as neck tattoo and Ray Bans both stood up and starting yelling at each other. Things started moving in slow motion. The receptionist was screaming for them to sit down, they looked close to blows. The Asian couple (Doc also does marriage counseling) were both yelling into their phones, I could hear the words ‘police’ and ‘help’ a lot. The lady who started was just sitting there with a confused look on her face, as if she couldn’t understand what was happening around her. The small child’s father was trying to console her by intimidating her with angry faces and insults. I tried to stand up but found my legs unresponsive, how perfect. I just put my face into my face, tears starting from the noise, the controversy, the tense grip of guilt and shame around my throat.

Then, it all seemed to melt away. Doc was standing in the doorway, his white dress shirt slightly disheveled and his glasses askew. I looked around and saw neck tattoo with his arms around Ray Bans, looking like a lock of embrace, but I realized he was trying to suffocate him. Doc ran over and separated them, never yelling, not hurting anyone, simply saving the rest of us.

The police arrived a few minutes later. Neck tattoo was arrested and led off, going on how the government hated him just because of how he looked. I suppose that would be the driving force behind a person deciding to get a graffiti tattoo with the words “FUCK THE WOLRD” on his neck.

Doc came over to me and asked if he could reschedule, I said it was fine. He gave me a reassuring smile and said that he wanted everything to be alright in the office before he took any more patients. He was walking back towards the doors to his office when I felt a sudden urge to leap for him. Cradle him in my arms, to embrace that everlasting touch that he was bestowing on the world. I looked up. Doc was gone and the Asian couple we still timidly sitting in the corner. I decided I had best go. I grabbed my backpack, gave one final nod to the pigeon building his nest, and walked out into the rain.

I hate cards. Not the 52 pick up kind, the Hallmark, sickly sweet, awfully manufactured, cards that you’re supposed to receive from anyone and immediately cherish them for eternity. My mother was very into cards. She had large shoeboxes full of old birthday, anniversary, graduation, mother’s day, Christmas, and all sorts of other cards. She had gotten these from many people, some she didn’t even know or remember anymore. I once asked her why she would keep all of these, when did they stop being cards and start being junk? She told me that they will never stop being cards, obviously this type of purchased greeting was not biodegradable. I thought it was ironic that a woman so distant from all of her family would hold onto these things, as if the polite socially required love was all that she could get out of her family. It was sad really. My whole life I had thought that my relatives were bad people just because they had a different lifestyle than my parents. I hadn’t stopped to think that maybe it was my parents way of life that was fucked up not their relatives. Sucks to think that these people that you took as the sole educators of yourself may have been poisoning you for your entire young life.