Falling Into Shadows

When given the option of listening to the current lesson being taught right now or drowning out the monotonous voice that filled the air, I chose the latter.

I twirled a thin piece of my dirty blond hair around my finger as I doodled in my notebook aimlessly and listened to the pitter-patter of the rain. The rain danced on the windowsill and made me feel envious of their freedom. They had permission to stay outside of the school, while us students had to stay locked up in a classroom for hours.

The whole time in Chemistry was spent scribbling words throughout the pages of my notebook and waiting for the bell to ring, permitting me to enter through the door of freedom. I thought spending an hour in Chemistry was a waste of time. I could have been doing much more eventful things, such as sneaking off to the library to search through the paperback novels that I haven’t read yet, or spending time in the art room to paint my next addition to my portfolio. Sure, there were many experiments involving explosions in Chemistry, but we couldn’t perform any labs that could possibly cause the fire alarm to deafen all of us and force us to evacuate the building.

I actually wouldn’t mind if that really happened, but of course, it would only occur in my effervescent imagination. After an explosion would be set off in the Chemistry room and fire sprinklers began showering us with water, all of the other girls and boys would be running around and adding to the chaos. The girls would all worry about their over-straightened hair being hit by the fire sprinklers, while the boys would all imitate their childish behavior. It really was unfortunate that I had such immature students as classmates. I wondered how any teacher could tolerate any of them.

The bell rang shortly after my reverie, and I gladly sprinted past the wooden door and entered the cafeteria. The aroma of greasy French fries and chocolate cake greeted me, and I scrunched up my face in disgust. I didn’t mind the smell of fries that much, but the cake was something I couldn’t tolerate.

It was easy for me to overlook the sickening aroma in the atmosphere of the cafeteria because I already had the healthier alternative to fries for dinner last night: baked potatoes with chives (320). I also brought a strawberry yogurt (170) and a fruit cup (70) with me to school, so I was all set for lunch.

As I ate my lunch, I noticed how eerily quiet it was at my lunch table, while there was tumult everywhere else. Perhaps the silence was due to Peyton’s absence, for Jessica didn’t have someone to gossip with during lunch. No one questioned her whereabouts because we all knew where she was. After all, she was notorious for sneaking off to the janitor’s closet every now and then with someone we didn’t know, and we weren’t surprised if she didn’t actually know him either.

Lindsey was furrowing her brow as she attempted to solve yet another crossword puzzle. I wondered how she never got tired of solving them, but I guessed it was almost impossible to get bored of a pastime that was enjoyable to some.

Savannah, on the other hand, was engrossed in her magazine, while Jessica read along with her. I always wondered where Savannah was able to find all of those dieting magazines she was so obsessed with, for she never seemed to run out of a new issue.

“Hey, Jessica. What’s today’s tip?” I asked, breaking the silence. Jessica immediately looked up from the magazine and perked up by my question.

“Well, I won’t be seeing any of you over the weekend, so this tip will count for today and the weekend,” she said, smiling. “Tip number five is to sit up straight instead of slouching whenever you’re eating because you’ll feel full quicker. My mom actually gave me the tip this morning, and she said that it’s been working for her lately, so it should work for us as well.”

“I hope that really works. I’m beginning to get tired of reading my mother’s dieting magazines, and they never seem to have tips that truly work well,” Savannah said, closing her magazine in annoyance.

“It’ll work—”

“—for sitting up straight slows the food to get to the lower part of the stomach quicker; therefore, making you feel full quicker as well,” Lindsey interjected without ever looking up from her daily crossword puzzle.

I couldn’t have a say in any of this, for I had never paid attention in Biology last year, but I thought she was right because fortunately for her, Science had always been one of her best subjects in school.

The time spent in my final three classes disappeared in a blur. I didn’t have a very productive class period in Art, for I was merely drawing random sketches in my notebook, which I couldn’t use for my art portfolio. I couldn’t come up with any ideas for another painting, so I was stuck with drawing on lined paper once again. But it wasn’t my fault that inspiration didn’t penetrate me today. French was boring as usual, and I attempted to translate words from English to French without feeling any interest in the subject. I was never proficient when it came to the foreign languages, so I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t understand half of the words in the passage. However, English was a bit more eventful than French. Lindsey and I were engaged in a nearly silent conversation, while we waited for the final bell to ring. We both discussed trivial matters before the bell actually rang, interrupting our discussion on our plans for the weekend and allowing all of us students to go home and enjoy the remaining hours of today.

Only a few people knew this, but I always hated Fridays. Most kids these days seemed to look forward to the weekend and couldn’t wait until Friday would come. I, on the other hand, loathed Fridays. I could even hear the excitement emit off the corridors of the school as my peers nearly jumped for joy. The weekend was soon here and more importantly, we had two days off from school. Who wouldn’t want that? Oh right, I did.

I tried to act enthusiastic about something as trivial as a couple of days off from school and pretended that I was empathetic towards the rest of the student body. But I just couldn’t seem to conceal my resentment towards this day and the unnecessary fuss over one weekend that was bound to end soon.

“Annabelle, can you be any less excited for the weekend?” Lindsey asked. The excitement was evidently emitting off her as well, for she was skipping towards the front entrance of the school, as I merely walked at a steady pace the closely matched my heartbeat.

“Yes, I actually can be. Would you like me to act even more pessimistic about this?” I raised an eyebrow, challenging her tolerance for someone like me.

Lindsey had adjusted to my less than optimistic behavior last year. She always thought that I was just having that “time of the month” again, and she would patiently overlook my frequent mood swings because they were often gone in a matter of days.

“I’m going to ignore your last comment and pretend that I didn’t hear a word you just said because even your pestering mood swings can’t influence my good mood this afternoon.”

If only my pique would radiate off towards her as well, so then I wouldn’t be the only sophomore who was less than ecstatic about the coming days in my school. Perhaps it was selfish of me to want that, but overly perky people frightened me. “That is only because you can’t seem to perceive that not everything in life is about shopping and watching the sun melt the white snow bed, so your poor heels won’t sink into the thick snow.” I sighed as I ran my fingers through my hair.

“I don’t think that shopping is the only thing that matters in life. Shopping is merely a favorite pastime of mine rather than a vital necessity.”

“Yet you chose to treat it as if it was a vital hobby.”

“That’s true, but a hobby and a necessity are two different things.”

“Fortunately in this case, you’re right. Nevertheless, I am not changing my mind about my lack of eagerness for the days ahead.”

“We’ll see about that once we come back to school on Monday morning. You’ll be begging for the weekend to come back.”

“You say that every Friday, but there has never been a time when you were right, so there won’t be any change in view when the weekend is over.”

“That’s what you think.”

“No, that’s what I believe.”

She threw her hands in the air in frustration. “I give up. There’s no point in arguing with you when you’re this bitter.”

“At least, you can admit defeat.”

Lindsey glared at me playfully. Of course, there was no harm in a friendly glare, but I could sense that the tolerance spell was wearing off slowly.

“Well, you’re only acting this way because you don’t want to go to the dinner party your mom is making you go to.”

I groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m still trying to get out of it, but my mother is so stubborn sometimes, and she won’t let me skip it. I don’t understand why she won’t let me though. It’s just one dinner party, and I’m not going to be conversing with any of her guests. My dad is more lenient compared to her, and he doesn’t mind if I skip it, but I know better than to have him change her mind because we both know that when her mind is set on one goal, she’ll make sure that she follows through. And in this case, her goal is to make sure that I’m at that pointless dinner party.”

“I hope it won’t be as bad as you’re making it sound. I have to go pick up my little brother now, so I’ll see you on Monday. And good luck at the dinner party,” she said sympathetically before we parted ways and went to our homes.

When I arrived home, I headed straight towards my bathroom and pulled out the scale under my sink cabinet. Every Friday, I would weigh myself on the scale. On a good day, I would be lighter than the week before, but there were many bad days where my eyes would widen in horror at the digital numbers on the top of the scale.

When I closed my eyes and stood on my scale, I was surprised that the scale didn’t break. I slowly opened one of my eyes and looked down at it cautiously. Three red numbers gazed back at me with a taunting smirk. 109. I was one hundred and nine pounds. The last time I weighed myself—which was last Friday—I was 107 pounds.

How could I have gained two more pounds if I had starved myself for the first two days of November and consumed less than a thousand calories on Wednesday and Thursday? Did my body really hate me that much? I hadn’t even eaten much candy on Halloween, but I would have been lying if I said that I didn’t finish the bag of strawberry gummies Lindsey bought me. Candy couldn’t make me gain that much weight, right?

I sighed, as I slid the scale back under the sink cabinet. Today was another bad day. I would have to be more careful of what I ate from now on and make sure that I didn’t over indulge in any of the foods I liked, especially when I was at the dinner party on Sunday. There would probably be an irresistible dish or dessert there, and I could only hope that I would be able to skip the party. But I knew my mother would never give me the option of doing so.

There were always options that we all had. We either could follow the decision made for us by our puppeteers or choose the other option and rebel against their wants for us. The strings would always remain if we chose the first option and fulfilled their wishes. And the only way our strings would vanish was if we defied our puppeteers.

If only it was easier to do the latter.