Hidden Within

I finish writing my journal entry and take a quick look around the room, seeing if everyone else is done, too. There are a couple of kids who are still jotting away, but mostly everyone is done with their entry. I glance back down at my paper and chew on the inside of my lip for a moment, wondering if I did this thing right. I don’t really know how I could do this wrong, but I’ve never done a journal entry of any sort before so I have no clue. My eyes scan over the words I have written down and I begin to wonder if I should have put what I had, if I’ve disclosed too much…

I pull my eyes away from my paper and look at the image projected in front of the room. The broken girl in front of us. The broken girl that is so much like me. I hate to think of myself as that, as broken, but it’s what I feel like I am. I feel like I’ve been damaged beyond repair and there’s nothing that anyone can do to fix me. Yet I want someone to see that I need help, that I need someone to notice that something’s wrong, even if there is nothing they can do to fix me. Maybe they can’t fix me, but they can at least help me get past this; maybe they can help me move on.

Or maybe I should just learn to do this all on my own. Maybe I should just get past it without anyone’s help. Because I can’t exactly get help if I don’t tell anyone about it. And there is no way in Hell I’m telling anyone what happened to me. No one would ever look at me the same way ever again. My family probably won’t even believe me. Everyone loves him… Everyone thinks that he’s perfect and can do no wrong. They would never even fathom that he would do something so utterly…sick.

“Alright, anyone wanna share what they saw when they looked at this image?” Richmond asks the class, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Yes, Miss…?”

“Watson,” a girl sitting on the other side of the room promptly replies.

“Alright, Watson, what did you see?”

“I saw someone mourning the loss of someone they love. I mean, that’s what it looks like to me anyway. She’s all in the corner and everything, looking all sad. And the picture’s in black and white; that’s not exactly giving a happy vibe.”

“I had something a little different,” someone pipes up, and I realize that it’s Brian.

I turn my head to look at him, surprised that he’s actually said something. In all the years I’ve known him he has never volunteered to share his thoughts on anything with the class.

“Your name?” Mr. Richmond asks.

“Brian Haner.”

“Alright, Haner, what do you have for me?”

“When I looked at the picture I saw someone who was scared, someone who feels alone. She looks like she’s broken and I imagined that if she were to look up at you, you would be able to see that she wants someone to realize she needs help. She wants someone who will notice what she’s going through, someone to help her piece things back together.”

I can’t help but stare at him as the words spill out of his mouth; how what he just said was so close to what I was thinking, so close to what I’ve written down.

“Interesting take, Haner.”

A proud looking smile crosses Brian’s face and he turns his head in my direction, clearly to gloat about having such an ‘interesting take’ on things. I roll my eyes at him and look back down at my journal entry. I pick up my pencil and begin to doodle in the corner of the page; tuning out a couple of other interpretations on the picture of the day. It’s not exactly that I’m being disrespectful. It’s just that… I don’t like how the one person who seems to have seen the image the same way I did happens to be the one person that I can’t stand.

A few more minutes of discussion happen before class really takes off and Mr. Richmond goes into his whole approach to how the class is going to go into a bit more in depth than he had before. Again, my mind begins to wander as I continue to doodle on the page of my notebook.

But I quickly stop, setting my pencil down on top of my notebook. I blink a couple of times in hopes to stop the room from spinning. However, it doesn’t seem to do me any good at all; I only feel worse than I did a few seconds ago. I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment, slowly opening them and thankful to see that the room has stopped spinning around.

“You okay, Lana?”

I turn my head, expecting to see Lynn looking back at me. But instead I see Brian with what looks like a worried look on his face. I simply nod my head in response, unsure as to why Brian of all people would wonder if I’m alright; or why he even noticed that something could be wrong for that matter. And what the hell is up with him calling me ‘Lana’? He usually calls me by my last name, and now the stupid nickname he came up for me today at lunch.

He looks at me for a moment before nodding his head and bringing his attention back to the front of the room. I can’t help but stare at him though, still wondering why in the world he would have noticed my little dizzy spell when no one else did. Was he watching me or something? And if he was, why would he be watching me? Maybe he was trying to find a weakness; a way to take advantage of me; another thing to make fun of later.

Or maybe I’m just being paranoid. Maybe he just noticed because he was getting ready to make a smartass remark, but thought twice about it when he saw I clearly wasn’t feeling well. I mean, it is possible that the boy actually has a tiny sliver of a conscience, right?

I notice Brian glance back at me from the corner of his eye and I quickly tear my gaze away from him in hopes that he didn’t notice. But I take it he did because I see a small, smug smirk on his stupid face as I bring my eyes back to the front of the room.

Great, now I’ve just stroked his ego. Like he really needed that.

~

“Well, that was unlike any English class I’ve ever had,” I say as I walk out of the room with Lynn, Brian not far behind us.

“I think he’s going to be a lot of fun,” Lynn replies with a smile as we begin to make our way down the hall, towards out lockers. “So, what do you guys have next?”

“Gym,” I grumble.

I’m not exactly the world’s most athletic person. In fact, I could quite possibly be one of the laziest people to ever grace the planet. I’ve never been a huge fan of any sports growing up and neither of my parents had ever pushed for me to take anything up, so I’ve grown to dislike participating in classes that require me to run around and play team sports; classes like P.E.. And when you add the fact that I have P.E. with Brian Haner, of all people, only adds to my distaste for the course.

“Aw, I’m sure it’ll be alright, hun. Gym’s not that bad this year,” she assures me with a smile.

“You already had it?”

“Yeah. It’s not gonna be terrible today. Get your uniform, your locker, and then you’ll mainly just do laps and shit to get back into shape.”

“Fun, fun.”

“It’s really not that bad. So, what do you have next hour, Brian?” she asks, trying to get him into the conversation. Guess it’s better to include him because right now he must just look like a creepy stalker just walking behind us, not saying a word. Of course he does give off that creepy stalker vibe now that I think of it…

“Gym,” he replies, sounding just as enthused as I did.

“Well, that’s not bad then! You’ll have a frie-- Someone you know with ya, Lana,” Lynn quickly amends.

“Yeah, lucky me,” I mumble as we approach our lockers. I hurriedly do the combination and open up the old metal locker. I place my books inside and slowly close the door just as Lynn and Brian close theirs.

“Well, you two have fun in Gym,” Lynn smiles. “I’ll meet you guys back here after class?”

“Yeah,” we reply in unison.

“Great! I’ll see you guys later!” she calls out as she disappears down the hall to her next class.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Sunshine.”

“Leave me alone, Haner,” I retort, rolling my eyes at him and the nickname he’s grown so fond of calling me.

I begin walking to the gym and I can hear a pair of footsteps running behind me, signaling that Brian didn’t get the clue that I wanted him to leave me alone and instead he’s going to follow me around and annoy the shit out of me. Oh how I wish that Lynn and Zacky didn’t meet up this summer and become so enamored with each other. If that never happened then I wouldn’t have to be dealing with Brian Haner, the most annoying boy in all of Orange County.

“Oh, come on, Sunshine. Don’t be like that,” he says as he catches up with me.

“I don’t wanna talk to you, Haner. So just leave me the hell alone and we’ll be good. Understood?” I seethe as I continue on the trek across the school to the gymnasium.

“Look, I promised Laney and the other girls that I won’t be an ass to you.”

“Uh-huh, sure you did,” I reply as I pull the gym door open and walk in, continuing to look straight ahead as I head to the far end of the large room. I’m not buying a single ounce of bullshit that comes out of his mouth.

I hear him let out a heavy sigh and glance over my shoulder to see him walking away from me with his hands shoved in his pockets. I shake my head and take a seat on the bleachers, waiting for more kids to show up. Maybe I’ll see someone I know. Maybe Sandi has this class with me; it’d be about time that I have a class with her. I haven’t seen her all day and that’s not usual. In junior high we would always have at least one class together every year, so it’s been kinda weird not even seeing her today.

More kids filter into the room and take a seat on the bleachers, all of them talking to each other animatedly. A couple of girls sit down not too far away from me. One of them looks over her shoulder and starts giggling like an idiot, her friend joining in a couple seconds later. I try my best not to look at them oddly, but it’s really hard when they’re acting so strange. I wonder what’s up with them.

They begin to whisper to each other, and I know it’s not exactly polite but I decide to listen in on their conversation in hopes to figure out what they’re giggling at.

“Oh my God, he’s so cute!” the one who had looked over her shoulder titters, flipping her light brown hair over her shoulder.

“I know! God, he’s dreamy, isn’t he?”

“He totally is! Is he still looking over here?”

“Yes! He won’t stop staring at you; he’s totally checking you out!” her friend excitedly squeals.

“Oh my God, really?”

“Totally! You should go talk to him!”

“You think I should?”

“Hell, yes! He’s totally into you, go for it!”

She looks over her shoulder again and quickly looks away. “I dunno if I should. What if he’s not looking at me and he’s looking at you instead? I don’t wanna look like an idiot.”

“You won’t. You should go for it!”

I roll my eyes at them as they continue to go back and forth over if she should go over and talk whoever has apparently been staring at her ever since she entered the gym. I decide to glance over to see who they could be talking about. There are a few guys sitting on the other end of the bleachers, but most of them sitting in a small group and talking to each other about God only knows what.

And then my eyes fall onto who the girls must have been talking about; Brian. His dark eyes lock onto mine for a second and I swallow hard, quickly looking back to the girls who are still debating about whether girl number one should go talk to him or not. She probably shouldn’t go. Not to sound mean or anything like that, but I don’t think he is looking at her…

“Okay, I guess I will… Should I do it now?” she asks nervously, taking another quick glance back at him.

“Of course! Come on, we still have like three minutes before class starts; go for it!” her friend encourages.

“Alright… Wish me luck,” she says as she slowly rises to her feet.

“Good luck!”

I can’t help but watch her as she makes her way down to the other end of the bleachers where he’s sitting. She stops in front of him with an anxious looking smile on her face and I can’t help but chuckle a bit at the look of confusion that crosses over Brian’s face as he looks up at her. I guess I was right; he wasn’t looking at her after all. But if he wasn’t looking at her then I really don’t wanna know who he was looking at, because I have a feeling I’m not going to like the answer.

“Alright, class!” the coach calls out as he walks into the gym. “I’ll need you to all split up; boys to my left and girls to my right. You are going to go into the locker rooms and you will be issued a locker and uniform. Girls, Coach Stevens is going to be taking care of you; guys, you’re with me. We’ll meet back out here in fifteen minutes to start warm ups, are we clear?”

Everyone gives the affirmative as we finish splitting up. He nods his head and calls for the boys to follow him, instructing us girls to go on into the girls’ locker room. I follow the group of girls as they begin to march over there and find myself behind the girl who had just finished talking to Brian.

“So, how’d it go?” her friend asks eagerly.

“I don’t think it was me he was looking at,” she replies glumly.

“What? Why do you say that, Hayley?”

“Because he wasn’t interested in talking to me.”

“Well, if he wasn’t looking at you then who was he staring at?”

“I dunno. There was no one else besides you and me. I guess he was staring at you the whole time…”

I bite the inside of my lip and realize that she must be right. Brian probably wasn’t staring at me, but he was staring at Hayley’s friend. God, how silly am I to think that Brian would actually be looking at me? Just because he was looking in my general direction doesn’t mean that he was actually looking at me. I must be even more paranoid than I thought.

We enter the locker room and see who I can only assume to be Coach Stevens already waiting of us with a clipboard in her hand. She instructs us to sit down, and we all take seats on the concrete benches in front of the lockers closest to her, waiting for her to continue.

She begins to talk, giving us the usual speech that every PE teacher seems to deliver once you reach junior high; no horseplay in the locker room, take a shower at the end of class if you don’t wanna smell bad, must wear your uniform to participate in class, sneakers with non-marking soles so the precious gym floor doesn’t get scuffed up, etcetera.

“Alright, now I will need you all to line up to receive your combination and your lock. You will put this lock on the locker you wish to claim as yours for the semester. Keep in mind that there are certain lockers that are reserved for athletes, those will be clearly marked so you don’t have any confusion. Those of you in sports should already have your lockers picked out so you do not need to get another one. Now, the rest of you, line up,” Coach commands us.

Most of us scramble into line, waiting to be given a lock. Coach hands me a combo lock and I read the number on the back. She nods her head as she finishes scribbling down my information and hands me a slip of paper with my combo on it along with one of the standard uniforms. I quickly get out of line and start walking down the aisles, searching for a decent locker.

I reach one that doesn’t seem to be in a decent location, not too close to the door so people can’t see me changing when they walk in and not a reserved athletics locker. I reach to open the empty locker and a wave of dizziness crashes over me, causing me to hold onto the small metal door tightly as I try to keep myself upright. I close my eyes as I take a couple deep breaths, just like I had in English. I slowly open my eyes to see that the world is no longer spinning, but I still feel a tad lightheaded.

God, what’s up with these dizzy spells today? They’re starting to get on my damn nerves.

I quickly try to dismiss the lightheaded feeling and begin to change into my gym clothes. I pull on the standard white top and grimace as I pick up the black shorts I’m required to wear. Good God, do they really have to be this short? I always thought schools wanted their girls to wear longer shorts in Gym so we aren’t a distraction to the boys in class with us, but clearly Huntington High sees things a bit differently. I slip out of my jeans and pull on the shorts, tugging down on them in hopes that they’ll cover up my thighs a bit more. I hate feeling so exposed; it’s one of my least favorite feelings in the world.

“Alright, girls, time to get on out there!” Coach Stevens calls out from the other side of the lockers just as I finish pulling my hair back into a ponytail.

I let out a heavy sigh and follow some of the other girls that are ready out of the room and into the gymnasium. They all get into their little groups and I wrap my arms around my middle as I realize that I don’t know any of the girls in my class. It’s times like these I wish that I had Sandi around.

“Hey there, Sunshine,” Brian’s unmistakable voice says from behind me, and I let out a disgusted sigh as I turn to look back at him.

“What do you want, Haner?” I query as I look up at him, my arms still securely wrapped around me.

“Just thought I’d give ya some company since you were standing here all by yourself.”

“Cut the act, alright? Lynn, Laney, and Danni aren’t here, and I sure as hell won’t tattle on you to them if you don’t pretend to be my friend. You’re free to talk to whoever you want.”

“Alright,” he replies, not moving from his spot.

“Let me guess; you’re going to stick around and make fun of me all class period.”

“Something like that,” he answers with that stupid smirk of his.

I roll my eyes, shaking my head and wondering why he couldn’t have just gone off to another school like he was supposed to. I swear that life would be so much better if he wasn’t at Huntington High School because God knows that I already have enough to deal with. I don’t need Brian’s stupid little quips added to my list of grievances.

I begin to walk away from him, but I hear him begin to walk along with me, his footsteps in sync with mine as we cross the gym floor.

“I’m surprised you could fit your ass into those shorts, Fray,” he comments once I stop walking. “But you look like you’re about to bust out of them any second now.”

“I’m surprised you could fit your fat head into this room,” I scathe, glaring up into his dark eyes; his stupid shit brown eyes. I hate his eyes, they’re so ugly and beady looking. I don’t know what those girls could have possibly seen when they were looking at him earlier. He’s far from cute and dreamy. Repulsive and unsightly would be a more accurate choice of words.

He opens his mouth to talk, but is cut short when the coach, I never did catch his name and never bothered to look at his name on my schedule, shouts out that it’s time to start our stretches. Everyone spreads out, and leaving me stuck next to Brian. We scoot away from each other to give each other some space and begin copying the stretches that the coach is doing at the front of the group. I stretch my arms out to the side and my fingertips lightly brush up against Brian’s. A small shock of static cracks between us and causes me to quickly recoil my hand, glowering at him for a little bit before resuming my stretches.

“Now we’re gonna do a few laps around the gym to get your hearts goin’,” Coach says as we finish up our stretches. “You’re gonna start with four minutes; I’ll blow my whistle when time’s up. Everybody find a place along the sidelines.” We all get into our places. “And go!”

Everyone starts off in a light jog, trying to keep a decent distance from the person in front of them. I can see some people running in small groups, talking and laughing amongst each other as they turn a corner. I don’t see how people can talk when they’re running; I would be so out of breath that no one would be able to understand a single word I huffed out. But then again, I am pretty out of shape.

I finish up my second lap around the gym and suddenly the people in front of me look like they’re multiplying with two faint copies of themselves floating around. I begin to slow down, letting some of the people behind me sprint ahead of me, as I try to get the world to stop whirling around.

My eyes fall shut and I stop for a moment, only to start jogging again when I hear Coach yell to keep moving. I open my eyes and everything is twirling around even faster than it was a few seconds ago. I feel my stomach lurch and push myself to make another stride. My legs start to feel weak and it’s almost as if I’m running with a pair of Jell-O legs that can barely support my weight.

I need to get to the coach and tell him that I can’t keep running like this. I need to get to the other side of the gym before I lose my footing. I need to get permission to stop running.

I make a weak attempt at a sprint and after only a few steps my legs give out from underneath me.

I hit the wood floor hard.

My head makes a loud sound, almost like a crack, on contact.

Shocked gasps come from behind me.

Someone frantically calls my name as footsteps sound like they are stampeding towards me.

And everything goes black.