Counting the Days

My surroundings are quiet, they’re always quiet now. There is the occasional dishes hitting each other and the counter as my mom prepares breakfast. I have yet to move from the comfort of my bed, it’s neatly made for my mom’s liking, but nowadays she hardly notices the little things I do. I don’t have the strength to get my backpack that contains a folder and a few pens and pencils, it’s not that I’m weak or tired; I just don’t want to move. Lately that’s all the both of us, my mom and I, have been doing is moving around.

I hear my mom call out to me, her voice light and wore out. I don’t have it in me; I would usually let her call me a few more times before I decided I was ready. But not this time, I immediately stand up and grabbed my backpack, my pal for the day and head out to the kitchen. There on table that’s set up for two is only one plate of toast and eggs along with a glass of orange juice. I look at her questioningly as she stares back with a blank expression.

My mom was lost like I was, but she wore the expression like it was her only one. Her slim fingers cuddling the hot cup of coffee, she takes smalls sips being careful not to burn her tongue and lips or maybe enjoying whatever she slipped inside. I don’t ask anymore.

I enjoy the breakfast that was made for me, my mom leaving when I was almost done. I try not to let it bother me, but it does. I could feel a whirl pool of emotions form in my stomach as I take a big bite of my toast, hoping it would somehow decrease the pain. But it doesn’t.

When I’m finish I gather my dish and cup, I walk over to the kitchen in our two bedroom apartment and place the dish inside the sink. I look over to the side, the white counter spotless expect for two colored pills. I mentally roll my eyes and take them with my orange juice before putting the cup in the sink with the dish.

I leave the apartment with no goodbye from my mother as expect but with a list of things I needed to get before returning home. I stuff the paper into my pocket of my new pair of jeans and headed off in the direction I knew that my new school was. I knew I should’ve left a bit earlier; it was possible I was going to get lost.

With the luck I have left in my system, I find a small group of teenage boys and girls walking ahead of me. Smiling and laughing like it was no one’s business, it just made me realize that this year I’m going to be alone. Sooner than I thought I was entering a somewhat big school, a high school. I push my way through the crowded hallway to get to the office, and I do with a lot of stumbling and tripping.

The office is quiet, a few older ladies running about gathering papers and sorting them. I approach the one lady who’s sitting behind her desk with an apple in hand, eating it away until she finally notices me within her 5th bite.

“Oh honey, you have to speak up if you’re in need of something.” She says with a smile. “Let me guess you must a freshman?” She asks.

I shake head a bit and lick my lips, “I’m a senior.” I correct her. The words echo in my head for a while, it wasn’t the words I said, it was the voice that said them, that couldn’t be the way I sound. I sound weird and dry.

“You’re new?” She continues and licks her red painted lips. I nod and adjust the strap on my shoulder, she motions for me to near her and I do. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

“Eleanor Grey.” I answer unsteadily, the nerves inside of my stomach starting to kick in. I haven’t spoken to another person in a while; I was unsure how the rest of day was going to play out.

The lady that was still unknown to me starts to type away on the computer. With a few more questions and a few clicks of her mouse, I’m on my way with a few papers. The bell rings signaling for everyone to get to class, I on the other hand am still trying to find my locker, the locker that will be empty until maybe after this first class. I finally find it and look at it, the navy blue looking boring and lifeless.

I debate rather if I should try it out and take a peek inside or continue on and head for class before I’m extremely late. I chew on my bottom lip and start to head down the hall, that’s another thing I have to look for is my class. I round the corner just as someone is doing the same, my face comes in contact with a hard chest and my bottom is catching the floor.

“Fuck,” A man swears. “Not even my first hour on the job and I’m knocking students over.” He continues to talk instead of offering a hand.

I stare up at him, he looks far too young to be a teacher, and he certainly doesn’t dress like one if he is one. The man that stands there wearing light brown pants, some weird dressy boots, a weirdly designed top and a vest over it. He’s ridiculously skinny and not to mention lanky. I remain in my spot now wondering why I wasn’t getting up or why I was even checking this man out.

He finally offers a hand; I gladly take it and push myself off the dirty floor. I look over my pants for any sign of them being ruined like I would’ve cared if they were. I still have to look up at this man, he’s tall. I kindly smile and start to go around him but I’m stop by his question.

“Can you not mention to anyone that you heard me swear?” He asks kindly and smiles. “I don’t want to get fired on my first day.”

“Get first on your first day of what?” I ask, not even knowing that I was speaking out loud and not in my head. My eyes widen from the question and I look at him as he looks back and starts to laugh.

“I’m a teacher here, it’s my first year.” He states.

“A teacher?” I ask and give him an odd look. “You look too young to be a teacher.”

“Well I’m still getting use to it myself actually. You should be getting to class.”

I chew on my bottom lip shyly and clear my throat somehow hoping it’ll give my voice some boldness. “I… I don’t know where my class is.”

I watch as he grabs the paper from my hold and looks over my schedule, he smiles and hands it back. “You have me for your first period. Come one.” He smiles again and starts to lead the way.

I quickly follow and learn that his name is Mr. Ross and that he wasn’t comfortable with that just yet. He would rather have his students call him by his first name but this being a school it wasn’t allowed. He still didn’t mind if a student called him Ryan. The more I repeat the name the more it sounds right and calling him Mr. Ross just seems off.

We enter a room that’s full; there are no posters on the wall not yet so there’s no encouragement. The pale walls making the whole room seem dull and pointless. As I look towards the board there’s a welcoming, the writing is messy but it’s obviously readable. I eye the desks for an open one there’s only the one in the front. Go figure.

Class is now starting and I don’t notice that Mr. Ross/Ryan whatever he wishes to be called, is having each student stand up and state their name and favorite band. When it comes to me I remain sitting staring blankly at the wall just under the board, my thoughts swirling among my past which sends mix emotions to develop in my stomach.

I take shaky breath when I’m brought to the present; I look over my shoulder to the guy sitting behind me. He looks annoyed that I’m not paying attention; I return my stare forward seeing Mr. Ross signaling for me to stand. I do, but slowly.

“Your name and favorite band…” He sayss and leans back against the neatly kept desk.

“Um,” I start off unsurely. I forgot my name, how do I forget my own name? I look at Mr. Ross and then floor and try to calm myself before I go into a panic attack. “I-I’m Eleanor Grey and eh, my favorite band is um, The Beatles.” I say and quickly take a seat and held my head up.

“You wouldn’t happen to be named after Eleanor Rigby?” Mr. Ross asks curiously.

“No,” I state and look over to him, he had approving smile on. “I’m named after my grandma.” I add in quickly. I pretty much wanted to be done, I wanted to him to move to the next student and question where their name came from.

During the rules and guidelines, I couldn’t seem to stop my mind from thinking and remembering those sounds. I couldn’t stop it from wondering off and into some dark area which was off limits for my mind, I try to keep it that way. As Mr. Ross continued to discuss tests and what we will be learning, I couldn’t stop myself from seeing the images on the blank walls.

The bell rings loudly though this pale room, it causes me to jump and make a few students laugh. I place my hands over my ears as the bell still rings loudly though my head and brings more noise with it. I close my eyes tightly in hope that the noises will end. I let out a gasp when hands are placed on my shoulders and all the noises stop at once. I open my eyes carefully, afraid to see the images on the wall like I do in my head. I’m breathing hard due to the panic that was starting. My eyes shift side to side no longer seeing students in this pale room.

“Are you okay?” I hear Mr. Ross ask, I look at him with a scare expression on my face.

“F-fine…” I stutter and stand up carefully; I lick my lips and place my hand on my forehead.

“I think you should see the nurse,” He suggests and walks over to his desk, looking through one of the drawers.

“NO!” I unwillingly yell, “I’m fine, I’m really fine.” I try to reassure him; going to the nurse meant a call home and possibly a mad mom.

Mr. Ross looks at me for a while before giving the nod to leave, he still looks skeptical but doesn’t say anything further until I reach the door, “See me before you go to lunch, just to make sure.” He sounds worried.

I nodded a bit to him before heading off to my next class, wherever that might be. As much as home sounds nice, I couldn’t bare being there and having to explain my freak out. My mom could take the situation the wrong way and the counter at home has to hold yet another colorful pill.