To tell, or not to tell.

I'm in the changing room getting ready for P.E. Mari is smiling but I can see through the cracks that she thinks she's done something to upset me. People are, as usual, scrutinising Ashley's body for stretch marks or other tell tale signs that her body may have to show past pregnancies. I've managed to get my shorts on despite the fact my mind is to busy wandering and I'm just about to put on my T-shirt when I notice the scars on my arms. I almost gasp as I shove on my T-shirt in a flurry of ungraceful arms. I quickly glance around to see if anyone was watching me changing and saw what I saw. Louisa is looking in my general direction but her eyes are glazed over and I don't think she noticed, but what if she did? I press my hands to my cheeks and try to look as normal as possible as I slip on my trainers as a cover for my actual activities; trying to asses everyone in the room for signs that they saw the scars. It's not like I forgot about what I did, I just figured the scars would be gone by now. But, just me luck, they arn't. I feel out of place now, in my short sleeved top, scars showing. The hairs on my arms stand up on end as if to say, "Hey! Over here! See those scars? What a freak!" I want to desperately hug my arms to my chest to cover them up. I'm ardent for that little comfort but if I do that people might read the atmosphere, as it is, and find out so I act as normal as possible throughout P.E. Taking part and trying to keep on the move so that I'm not still enough for anyone to see the annoying tale telling arms that seemed to have rebelled a against me and decided to heal at the slowest pace possible.

Lucky for me, no one notices. To be honest, I'm almost upset that no-one does, no one bothered to look twice or care that I'm clearly down. Not one person out of a class thirty-five could even take some time out of their day to ask if I was okay. I figure I'm just that good at hiding my feelings even though I'm probably not but this is what I convince myself of as I get changed back into my wonderful long sleeved shirt that will hide my shame. It will give me that sense of safety once again. Despite this I can't shake the feeling I'm being stared at. Like someone's eyes are boring into my body. It makes my face heat up and I glance up from my shoelace to see Ashley's eyes resting on me. For some reason, this makes me blush harder and I, very much like Ashley has just done, promptly return to getting changed.

"You okay?"

I look up to see Mari watching me with a concerned expression. She's forgiven me, that much I can see in her eyes. Not one to hold a grudge is Mari. I contemplate telling her everything, from my family problems to the self-harm and everything in between (not that there is anything in between. Seriously. Nothing.) but the words get caught in my throat and I choke on all the ways doing such a reckless thing could effect me. These things in mind I keep stoom as she prompts me into admission. Or attempts to, at least. She's getting exasperated with my silence when the bell goes and, luckily saved by the bell, I make my excuses and leave. This day just gets worse it seems.