December 31st, Almost Twelve

I'm sitting in the kitchen with a flimsy paper crown on my head, waiting for my mother to come in with the liquor so we can toast new years properly. There's some heavy banging in the pantry, but I don't go over to see what's happening because I'm feeling disconnected lately. For all I know, my mom could have hit her head, it could be gushing blood right now, and here I am sitting at the kitchen table, looking at the opposite wall with the paper crown hat on my head.

Fortunately, my mother comes back into the kitchen completely fine, holding up two bottles of semi expensive wine.

"Did you not even think of helping me out?" she says in a slightly huffy tone. I shrug. "You are so lazy," she mutters, setting the wine down on the table ceremoniously. "You get it from your father."

There's a momentary, heavy silence, like someone had dug their fingers down a chalk board- you know, like all those old movies, or whatever. It's uncomfortable.

"Sorry." My mom mumbles, fumbling. I just shrug, smiling a little bit.

"Auntie might be coming over." She slips in, but I catch it and sigh heavily. "Wasn't she supposed to be here already?"

My mother scratches the back of her head in irritation; she doesn't want to talk about my aunt. It would just fluster her even more. She wants to enjoy this day, this moment. She doesn't want it to be dimmed by anything. So I don't pursue it.

The wine is opened, and there's a little bit of excitement when one of the corks zings across the room, sending spray shooting everywhere. We clean up, laughing occasionally, reminiscing on that little bit of joy, and pour the wine into glasses, just in time to spy the clock over the sink. Two minutes till.

I bite my lip, slightly disappointed. It's this time, when you're sitting with someone you feel like you don't know enough and you haven't a clue what to say, that's the hardest part- for me, at least. It's quiet, and uncomfortable, and you're desperately thinking of something to talk about, and you're hoping that they're going to talk about something, but they don't. So all you can do is avert your eyes and pretend that you have something else on your mind.

I look up at the clock again, and breathe out an inaudible sigh of relief when I notice that there are about twenty seconds left. I tap my mom's hand to let her know what time it is, and then we get our wine glasses ready, smiling at each other.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…" we count together, getting louder and louder as we go. We get excited when we think that one year is about to pass and another, better one is coming our way. And then, the second hand on the clock moves passed the twelve o'clock mark, and it's a whole new year. We've traveled through time. It's exhilarating. We clap a little bit, sending whooping hollers up into the air, but then it dies down as we start losing energy.

Then, we finally stop speaking, and we purse our lips. There's a silence that can't be fathomed that hangs around us, and all we can do is look down at our hands and pretend to smile. My mom is across the table; she's right there, sitting in front of me. But right now, she's universes away.

January 2nd, 8:00 am

I walk up to the bus stop, plugging an ear bud into one ear, and letting the other one hang loose. Lately I've been having this fear of being oblivious. I tell myself that I can't go off into my own world too much anymore, because then I won't know what's going on in this one. I don't want to miss anything. So, half of me is listening to this world, but the other half is off somewhere that I can't tell.

I hear some kids coming up behind me, and I will myself not to turn around and look at them. I become occupied, looking intently at the little device in front of me. When the kids walk past, I can finally look up at them.

I recognize them right away. Mostly it's the hair- all of their hair is so different. It's Thomas, and his friends. I can't exactly remember their names; one is Leroy, I think. He's in the photography class, which I took for a semester. I forgot the name of the one with the really blond hair. I know it starts with an "h" though. The girl is Sandy. She's in my art class. I know Thomas for a different reason.

They stand a short distance away from me, and I hope for some reason that they don't look back at me, or worse, call me to come over. I would have nothing to say, and I'd feel uncomfortable. I decide that I'm better off being alone. Is that a strange way to be?

Thomas looks back at me with a strange expression- I'd say pitying, but I'd rather think not- and then looks back at his friends. But he doesn't call me over, which makes me breath out a sigh of relief. I suddenly wish I could draw him.

January 2nd, 9ish

I'm fifteen minutes into first period and I'm already dying of boredom. The page in front of me is filled with doodles. I'm taking in what's happening around me, of course, but I'm not completely listening. Half of me is listening to the teacher, the other half of me is off again.

I used to let my mind wander before, but I don't anymore. Only half, as I said before, that's my limit.

The teacher is tapping the board for some reason, and I look up to see if the term he is indicating is important enough to be written down. I think it is. I could do with the definition of gamma particles, definitely. I try to find space on the page in front of me to write down the term, but I notice that it's all taken up by doodles. I didn't even notice I was drawing them. For some reason, this makes me… upset? Satisfied? The emotions I'm thinking of are like polar opposites yet they're both possible right now, in my head. I don't really know. I can't really point my finger down on what I'm feeling, but as I sit thinking about it, it intrigues me. Maybe I was intrigued, and a little scared. I must have spaced out too much.

January 2nd, lunch

The bell rings for us to finish class, and I jump up and bolt out the door, off towards the cafeteria. I stumble upon the expansive room by accident, almost tripping over myself like it's the first time I've seen this place in my life. All of a sudden, I'm feeling really uncomfortable. I mean, I can't move another step, because I don't know which way to go.

As I do every day of school, I feel obligated to sit with a group of people, making niceties and socializing. I yearn to have a best friend just like every other girl my age. I feel like I need one.

I think I said before that one of my new years resolutions was not to count on other people to make me happy. I wanted to depend on myself.

Sitting with the people in this lunchroom would just make me uncomfortable. I'd probably fill my notebook with a few more doodles.

On the other hand, I could go somewhere else and eat lunch alone. I opt for the second proposition, and high tail it towards the back of the school, sneaking out to the tables behind the art room and beyond, towards the field. I look over my shoulders every few seconds. When I get to the field, I sit down and give a deep sigh of relief.

I sit completely still, in the moment. I'm looking around me, to see if anyone is around. When I'm completely sure that no one is there whatsoever, I sigh again, and lie down in the grass, pulling out my sandwich.

Have you ever tried eating a sandwich while lying down? It's pretty hard. I opt to sit up, trying to keep good posture. I imagine that dancers have good posture out of habit outside the studio. Singers have to keep good posture too, so that they can utilize their lungs to their full capacity. I don't know why I'm thinking about this so hard.

As I sit in this field, looking about, I take in the nature around me for real. It's quiet, but the wind's picking up, so it's blowing the trees back and forth, in a swaying motion. The trees aren't very big, so they sway easier. I feel like I'm 90% in the real world. I feel proud.

Suddenly, I see a shadow moving through the trees. At first I think it's an animal, but then I notice that it's way too big. It's staying inside the line of trees, but I can feel it looking at me. Then, I notice that it's a man.

Before I can think of anything else I am running towards the school like my life depends on it. I've left my lunch behind and I don't even remember when I'm running, I just suddenly am. I don't check to see where the shadow is in the trees; I'm blind, I can't see anything except the art tables.

When I finally get to them, I look back, trying to see if the man is still there. I jump a little bit when I see a kid poke his head from out of the trees off in the distance. Then, he cracks this big smile, and starts to laugh at me. I try to look stoic, but inside I feel like I've been cut through the heart.

He just keeps laughing, and then disappears back into the trees.

I don't know how I feel about it. I don't think he had the right to laugh at me.

January 2nd, 2:45 pm

The art teacher has given us our first assignment of the new semester. We have to convert a photograph to a painting.

I really like fish, so I think I'm going to do the little carp pond in the Chinese restaurant near where I live. I go there sometimes with my mom. I figure if my aunt is coming any time soon, we'll probably go out to dinner. I can suggest Chinese. Then I can take a picture of the carp.

There's this sleek black one that looks cool. It has a white belly, like a whale. I like to think about it 'breaking the surface' of the 'waves' in the carp pond as it swims around. It's always off on its own. I think it's too slow to keep up with the other fish. The last time I was looking at it, I noticed that it had a little dent beside its left fin. But then again, maybe that had nothing to do with it at all. Maybe it was just pretending to be slow, like a ruse, you know? Like it could really do some damage if it set it's mind to it.

I picture it doing a flip in the air, rising up out of the water, and then back down into, letting droplets cascade out and around the pond. That's so unbelievably immature. Maybe I should be thinking about something else.

January 2nd, 8:00 pm

First day back was interesting. Now that I think back on it, the kid in trees was probably just smoking pot. Why else would a student be skulking around like that? I wonder if the cameras caught me going outside. Would I get in trouble? I feel like no one checks them anyway. Some crazy stuff goes on in high schools with security cameras, and they only seem to check them if it has to do with theft. But, I don't know, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe they do check it. But I doubt they'd look at them just to make sure a kid like me is at lunch or not.

January 3rd, 8:00 am

I'm waiting at the bus stop again when Thomas and his crew walk by. He takes a sideways glance at me from over his shoulder, and we almost meet eyes, but I save myself by looking away. I don't know why I or anyone else does this. I don't know if it's out of habit, or rather some false sense of pride, or some rule of privacy that wills whether we look at people fully on or not. I expect it's just a fear of the unknown. I mean I don't know what's going to happen if we meet eyes. Would we be expected to talk? Would a quick 'hello' suffice? Or would that be weird?

I need to snap out of it. I promised myself that I'd stay half in and half out. But it's been getting harder lately to do that. I find myself thinking constantly. It's infuriating. I figure if my mind were blanker than it usually is, I'd lose interest and look out and around me more.

Speaking of which, the bus pulls up, and I wait for Thomas and his buddies to get on first. He and I stop at the entrance to the bus, and we kind of look at each other expectantly, waiting for the other to get on. Then, he kind of indicates that I should get on, and smiles. It makes me smile. I just hope my smile isn't any bigger than his. I can't tell if his is real or just fake, you know, like a courtesy smile? I know it's not a happy smile; he's just being nice. So I guess it is a courtesy smile. Even so, I get on the bus, and as it starts to pull away from the lane, I feel pretty good.

January 3rd, 8:59 am

I'm sitting in fifth period right now. The teacher is droning on about different forms of government. I'm going to set my brain this time, so that I don't daydream too much. I'm trying to keep up the half and half thing- as I said, it's been harder lately- like I used to. Or like I thought I used to.

My aunt is coming in today. She was supposed to come in two days ago to help us celebrate New Year's, but she forgot. I'm not particularly a huge fan of her, because she can be a bully, and because she takes my room when she stays over. It's not great sleeping on our couch, which is one of those hard ones, not the nice soft ones that you can sink into.

My mom told me the bad news about my aunt coming as I was getting out of the car this morning. I tried to take it as lightly as I could. In all honesty, I'd hoped that she would forget until next year, when she'd forget again.

The teacher tells us we'll have a quiz next class. That's not so bad. I know the material pretty well. Thinking about it, I'm guessing that I can at least get a B on it.

Then the thought of the Chinese restaurant comes in the forefront of my mind. I forgot to tell my mother to suggest going out for Chinese. I pull out my cellphone and text her that we should go to the Chinese restaurant, and she texts back that she's making dinner tonight. I purse my lips. I really want to draw the fish. Then I think that maybe I can just walk over and take a picture myself. I don't have to eat there. But then, I'd have to walk down there alone. I have second thoughts.

January 3rd, lunch

I feel like all I think about is lunch now. I worry where I'm going to sit, who I'm going to sit with, if anyone will want me to sit with them. In elementary school it was easy. You had an assigned lunch table for the whole year, given by the teachers to force communication. But as I think about it more I realize that that arrangement sucked worse than anything. I hated that assigned lunch table.

Now, in high school I have the freedom to sit on my own, and boy do I take it. It's okay that I sit with my own thoughts. Or is it? Perhaps if I were sitting near people I'd do the half in, half out thing a whole lot better.

For a second I look at the lunchroom again. But I lose courage. Instead of going to the field, I sit at the edge of one of the art tables outside, hidden from view so that no one from the class with come out and talk to me.