Tunnel Vision

Leaving the classroom I feel dizzy. Or drowsy, or maybe just tired. Mrs. Walker doesn't bother asking me if I'm feeling okay, or if I need to go to the nurse. I don't think she cares. I don't think she even notices the fact that I'm stumbling out of her classroom looking like a confused mess.

I guess it's not her job to take note of her student's well-being. Or lack there of.

I manage the rest of the day though. I get through fine, in the smallest sense of the word. You can't expect much out of yourself these days. It's safe to say I have low standards.

After school everyone is in a rush to get home and change their clothes. There's actually a party today. It's the first Friday in June and everyone is so excited. Darby doesn't see to many parties since it's such a small town.

There are only about 800 teenagers in Darby. Last year, our graduating class was only 200 people.

It's funny how we all can live in a small town and know nearly everyone by name, and yet know nothing about each other.

Like Mrs. Patterson. She's been my next door neighbor since birth, and my parent's long before that, and nobody in my family knew that Mr. Patterson was sleeping with my kindergarten teacher who lived just down the road.

Mrs. Patterson cried for weeks on end after she found out.

Then, of course, Mr Patterson died a few years later of a heart attack and his wife (and the kindergarten teacher) were all torn up. Ms. Lizzy left town after that.

In Darby, nothing happens, and everything happens behind closed doors. Of course, until those doors are opened.

It's not a bad place to live. In actuality it isn't bad at all. I like it in Darby. There isn't much to live up to and it wouldn't be difficult to drift around for a while after high school.

It seems like it would be nice to just be somewhere for a change.

When I get home my brother is in the garage rehearsing with his band. They're "gonna make it big someday, just watch."

At least that's what Ryan says. Personally I think my brother is a dick with legs, but we'll see how his master plan works out.

"Hey, Claire."

I look at the drummer, Trent. He's a nice guy when he isn't shit-faced. I smile and wave before going inside. Ryan rolls his eyes and shouts something about getting back on track so they can be ready for the gig this Sunday.

Whatever.

Mark is in the kitchen making a sandwich. When he sees me, he smiles and asks me if I want one. He's a nice guy considering he walked in so late. After my dad left, My mom met Mark and within the year he was all moved in.

I like him okay.

I shake my head. "No, I'm fine. I'm going upstairs to lay down."

"Okay then, see you at dinner. Your mother is making lasagna."

She knows I hate lasagna.

I don't say that out loud. I just think it and wish I had the cojones to actually tell him this. It's not his fault though. He's not the one making lasagna.

I feel dizzier and dizzier as I climb up the stairs. I don't bother going into the bathroom so I can take a shower, I don't put on my pajamas either. I just collapse onto my bed, and close my eyes. I wish over and over for this monster headache to go away.

My cell rings around five or so minutes later.

I look at the caller ID.

Darcy.

"What?"

"Party? It's at 9:00."

I shake my head and then remember that she can't see me. "No."

I hang up.