Welcome To My World, Stranger
Coffee?
I watch as Zaccheus and Jane leave the room with a nurse.
Yeah, sure; just leave me here.
I slide back in my plastic chair, throw my bag onto the lino floor and look around.
There aren’t many people in the waiting room, this morning.
It’s almost empty.
The walls are a disgusting pale yellow and the floor is grey lino.
The lights are extremely bright and these plastic chairs smell like shi–
I hear police sirens outside.
I snatch up a magazine from a table near by, open it and hold it in front of my face as a disguise.
Uh, that won’t work…
I throw the magazine onto the floor, grab my bag and skateboard and run down the nearest corridor.
A few corridors later, I spot a fire exit; well, that’ll have to do.
As I grasp the fire exit door handle, Zaccheus flashes through my mind.
For a moment, pity washes over me.
But only for a moment.
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After spending an hour finding the way back from the hospital, I went back to school and sat in the bushes for the rest of the day; occasionally coming out to refill my water bottle and to make trips to the bathroom.
I have to admit, Zaccheus and Jane were on my mind for at least 3 hours.
So was Chas, seeing as he went missing. I think he might’ve ran away when I crashed into Jane.
Well doesn’t that just add to my emotional… emotions?
Not to mention I feel like crap.
Literally; I’m vomiting and getting splitting headaches every half hour.
At 3:15pm the bell sounds, indicating the end of school for another week.
Students pour out from the school building in their cliques, talking eagerly about where they’re going to go on the weekend and who they’re going to meet.
And since next week is the last week of term 3, everyone’s pretty excited about the 2 week holiday.
Who knows; in that 2 week break terrorists could come in with stolen army tanks and burn the school to the ground.
Students would be terribly upset if that happened, I’m sure.
Well, the nerds would anyway.
But it’s Australia, so I highly doubt that’d happen.
Damn; I really got my hopes up, just then.
Finally, when the school yard is nearly deserted, I clamber out of my hiding spot and skate my way home.
I open the front door, cross the threshold and look around;
“Jack? Rhiannon?” I call, grimacing as a new headache begins to crawl into my skull.
A bang erupts from the kitchen and I hear Rhiannon swear loudly.
“Yes, Christopher; I’m here in the kitchen. Come.”
I drag my feet into the kitchen, not bothering to dump my bag and board.
“Put down your stuff and sit at the table.”
Rhiannon grunts, waving her hands at my skateboard.
She turns around and begins doing something on the kitchen bench.
“Do you… er, have anything to help headaches?” I ask.
Rhiannon whips around; “Headaches?”
“Yeah; I’ve been feeling… sick.”
I drop my stuff on the floor and sit down at the table.
Rhiannon turns around and continues what she was doing moments ago.
I groan and squeeze my eyes shut in hope that my head will stop aching.
I re-open my eyes and notice a Milo tin and a coffee jar sitting on the other side of the table.
Coffee?
Jack and Rhiannon don’t drink coffee; they hate the stuff.
“Here you go, Chris;”
Rhiannon faces me and places a drink in front of me, “Drink up.”
I watch her as she walks out of the kitchen, a satisfied smile pasted upon her thin, cracked lips.
I stare at the drink for a while, my head still throbbing painfully and a foul taste in my mouth.
Rhiannon re-enters, carrying a jumper and her car keys;
“I’m just going out for a while, OK?”
She grabs her bag from atop the fridge and walks out again.
“Drink up, Christopher, it’s only Milo.” She says before slamming and locking the front door.
I grasp the mug and stare into the light-brown coloured milk.
I hear Rhiannon back out of the driveway.
I raise the cup to my lips and let a mouthful into my mouth.
The room spins again; my head feels like it’s splitting.
The mug slips from my grasp.
I fall sideways and –
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Yeah, sure; just leave me here.
I slide back in my plastic chair, throw my bag onto the lino floor and look around.
There aren’t many people in the waiting room, this morning.
It’s almost empty.
The walls are a disgusting pale yellow and the floor is grey lino.
The lights are extremely bright and these plastic chairs smell like shi–
I hear police sirens outside.
I snatch up a magazine from a table near by, open it and hold it in front of my face as a disguise.
Uh, that won’t work…
I throw the magazine onto the floor, grab my bag and skateboard and run down the nearest corridor.
A few corridors later, I spot a fire exit; well, that’ll have to do.
As I grasp the fire exit door handle, Zaccheus flashes through my mind.
For a moment, pity washes over me.
But only for a moment.
---------------------------------------------------------------
After spending an hour finding the way back from the hospital, I went back to school and sat in the bushes for the rest of the day; occasionally coming out to refill my water bottle and to make trips to the bathroom.
I have to admit, Zaccheus and Jane were on my mind for at least 3 hours.
So was Chas, seeing as he went missing. I think he might’ve ran away when I crashed into Jane.
Well doesn’t that just add to my emotional… emotions?
Not to mention I feel like crap.
Literally; I’m vomiting and getting splitting headaches every half hour.
At 3:15pm the bell sounds, indicating the end of school for another week.
Students pour out from the school building in their cliques, talking eagerly about where they’re going to go on the weekend and who they’re going to meet.
And since next week is the last week of term 3, everyone’s pretty excited about the 2 week holiday.
Who knows; in that 2 week break terrorists could come in with stolen army tanks and burn the school to the ground.
Students would be terribly upset if that happened, I’m sure.
Well, the nerds would anyway.
But it’s Australia, so I highly doubt that’d happen.
Damn; I really got my hopes up, just then.
Finally, when the school yard is nearly deserted, I clamber out of my hiding spot and skate my way home.
I open the front door, cross the threshold and look around;
“Jack? Rhiannon?” I call, grimacing as a new headache begins to crawl into my skull.
A bang erupts from the kitchen and I hear Rhiannon swear loudly.
“Yes, Christopher; I’m here in the kitchen. Come.”
I drag my feet into the kitchen, not bothering to dump my bag and board.
“Put down your stuff and sit at the table.”
Rhiannon grunts, waving her hands at my skateboard.
She turns around and begins doing something on the kitchen bench.
“Do you… er, have anything to help headaches?” I ask.
Rhiannon whips around; “Headaches?”
“Yeah; I’ve been feeling… sick.”
I drop my stuff on the floor and sit down at the table.
Rhiannon turns around and continues what she was doing moments ago.
I groan and squeeze my eyes shut in hope that my head will stop aching.
I re-open my eyes and notice a Milo tin and a coffee jar sitting on the other side of the table.
Coffee?
Jack and Rhiannon don’t drink coffee; they hate the stuff.
“Here you go, Chris;”
Rhiannon faces me and places a drink in front of me, “Drink up.”
I watch her as she walks out of the kitchen, a satisfied smile pasted upon her thin, cracked lips.
I stare at the drink for a while, my head still throbbing painfully and a foul taste in my mouth.
Rhiannon re-enters, carrying a jumper and her car keys;
“I’m just going out for a while, OK?”
She grabs her bag from atop the fridge and walks out again.
“Drink up, Christopher, it’s only Milo.” She says before slamming and locking the front door.
I grasp the mug and stare into the light-brown coloured milk.
I hear Rhiannon back out of the driveway.
I raise the cup to my lips and let a mouthful into my mouth.
The room spins again; my head feels like it’s splitting.
The mug slips from my grasp.
I fall sideways and –
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