My body

The next day is hell.

I don’t even have calculus on B days, but still the news had circulated at an incredible pace. Mostly what people were saying was true. mostly.

The day consisted of people glaring and cowering when I passed, a long talk with the principal and having rude remarks thrown my way. I kept my head down and hoped the whole thing will have blown off by tomorrow.

I was wrong. People still avoided me like the plague.

I got into Calculus and dreaded seeing Travis. Thankfully he hadn’t arrived yet. I take my seat and stare down at the empty desk. I can feel the stares directed at me, and I want nothing more than to jump out the nearest window.

The bell rang and class got started. After about fifteen minutes of Mr. Tate talking he handed out today’s assignment. The kid in front of me turns, passing the papers to me with out looking me in the eye. As soon as they’re safely on my desk he pulls his hand back quickly, as if I was planning on biting it off.

I set off on the assignment, not wanting to face the people around me anymore. It’s sad my least favorite subject is the one I have to escape with. At least Travis wasn’t here. What would he do when he came to school eventually? He’d probably arranged a restraining order for me. I wouldn’t blame him.
The door opens.
Travis walks in.
He was barely inside the classroom when Mr. Tate addressed him.

“Yeah?” Travis replies, about to sit down beside me.

“Travis, I’ve organized to change your seat,” Mr. Tate says.

“Why?” Travis asks before the teacher can continue. Mr. Tate raises his eyebrows.
Had he really forgotten? He must have had a lot of beer and done some great drugs to completely wipe away the other day’s events.

“Well, due to the…” He glances at me, “Circumstances, I thought it was best you move to a different seat.”

“But I don’t want to change seats,” Travis says, so nonchalantly. Mr. Tate watches him for a moment as the class room fills with awkward silence. Everyone’s eyes are trained on me and Travis. I can feel how hot my cheeks are, my face tomato red.

“Are you sure?”
Travis’s eyes slide over, and he looks briefly at me from the corner of his eye. A small smile pulls up at his lips.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Uh, alright,” Mr. Tate finally says, sounding wary instead of surprised. Travis is weird, that’s all there is to it.
I want to hug him, interrogate him, and ignore him all at the same time.

Instead I do my math homework as if nothing happened. A few minutes pass and Travis and I sit next to each other silently. Until he decides to speak up, shattering any hope of today going by smoothly.

“So why’d you stab me?” Travis asks, not even looking away from his assignment. Why was everyone being so blunt about this? Due to the lunatic living in my head, I feel as if I should be treated delicately.

“I- uh… I slipped,” I finally respond, biting my lip. I immediately realize how ridiculous that excuse is and I know my face has returned to the unattractive shade of red it had a few minutes ago.

“Isn’t that what the person being abused is meant to say? Not the other way around?” He teases to my complete and utter shock. How many drugs was this kid on?

“I really didn’t mean to,” I say, my voice coming out pleading and I sound as if I’m about to burst into tears. And I think if he doesn’t forgive me I might. Because really all that matters is what Travis thinks, because he was the one who got stabbed, he was the one who got hurt, not me.

“Calm yourself prospector,” He laughs, patting my hand. I’m surprised he’s so willing to touch me after my reaction last A day. What’s just as surprising is how he is taking this so lightheartedly, as if we weren’t discussing how I skewered his hand.

“I just don’t want you to think I wanted to. Because I’d never, ever think or want to do something like that,” I babble, gesturing to his hand, “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you wouldn’t Ally.”

“You barely know me,” I say, giving him a questioning look, my eyes finally leaving the paper. Travis gives me a crooked smile, that’s so genuine that I honestly believe all the words he says next.

“I may not know you, but I have sat next to you for three months. Hell, I’ve got to school with you for four years. And in all that time, you have never attacked me, or any other student with any sort of writing utensil.”

“Why wouldn’t you just assume I’m a crazy person like everyone else in the school? I mean, it happened to you. I thought you’d be the person driving the ‘Ally’s a nut job’ wagon,” I mumble, still so confused to why the boy who was intoxicated almost every day of his life would be the boy to not jump to wacky conclusions.

“Ally, I told you. I’ve been around you for four years. You’re way to normal and quiet to secretly be a crazy person. You were having an… attack, that’s the only reason why you did it,” He finishes, smiling reassuringly at me, some of his shaggy brown hair falling over his eyes.
We didn’t talk for the rest of class.
When the bell rings, I start heading to my locker.
“Hey killer,” Dawson greets.

“Shut up,” I mutter, shoving him. But I can’t be mad at Dawson because he’s my best friend, even if he is making fun of me for attacking another student. We head into the lunch room, and take our places in line.

“So I hear you cut of Travis’s hand with a pencil,” He says casually, looking expectantly at me.

“Yeah. There was blood everywhere. You should have seen it,” I joke, bumping my hip against his. He nods, my explanation all he needs. We’re almost at the front of the line when it happens.
I gasp, as cold water sloshes down my back, making my skin crawl.
“What the-“
I spin around and see Rori Tainter standing behind me, holding an empty bottle.

“Oh I’m sorry, it was an accident. Don’t stab me for it,” She pleads, fake fear in her voice. I bit the inside of my cheek, the chagrin burning through me like an angry flame. I want to run out of the room, out of the school, out of this reality. Rori smiles at me, waving and walking away.

“I should have ripped out her extensions,” Dawson says apologetically. I shake my head unzipping my jacket. “C’mon.”
He leads me out to his car and we have lunch at a fast-food place instead, which is always better then cafeteria food.
“So do you want to tell me why you did it?”
I look up from my food, finishing off my bite of Chinese food.

“I really don’t know… I just- I don’t know. Something weird came over me. The doctor thinks it was from stress.”
He raised his eyebrows.

“Do you think it’s from stress?” He asks quietly, giving me a meaningful look.
This is my chance. I can tell Dawson about the girl who’s been plaguing me for two years. I can finally get this huge crazy secret off my chest, have someone to help me through it.
But it is a crazy secret. Too crazy for even my best friend to understand. And I wish more than anything that i could tell him, but I can’t. Sometimes you have to deal with things on your own. She was one of those things.

“Yeah,” I finally reply, my eyes going back to my food.
Liar, She whispers.