~Chapter 9~

The next day at college was a little unnerving. In Mrs. Slender's class, Stable Boy brought in another horse. Thankfully this one wasn't Thunder. From rumor and gossip, I heard that Thunder was being kept in his stable to heal. Supposedly he could hardly move.

This horse's name was Muffin. Everyone snickered at the name until they learned that Muffin was his sister's horse. She was actually very pretty. She had a light brown mane and tail, along with a light brown coat. There was a white star on her forehead and she had white stockings on her legs. I also noticed that her coat and mane were gorgeous—well brushed and glossy. It was easy to tell how healthy she was. She wasn't overweight or underweight, she had been bathed and groomed, and she had clearly been taken so much care of. His sister obviously took incredible care of this horse. Even Muffin's black hooves seemed to have been polished. I wondered if the reason behind this was because she was a show horse—dressage would matter a lot.

My teacher seemed to be very accustomed to this particular horse and according to Stable Boy, she was the sweetest and most gentle horse he'd ever owned. Being mild-mannered would make perfect sense—a very fitting trait for a show horse.

I noticed that he didn't bring his whip or anything aside from a halter. Now, I wasn't exactly experienced in owning a horse, let alone two of them, but I did know most of the equipment that came with one. Halters were only meant to lead a horse around and unlike bridles, they didn't have a bit.

Stable Boy took his seat up in the front row and watched as his sister's mare stood in the middle of the "stage", I supposed it could be called—it was certainly looking to be one at this point.

The horse was quiet and for the most part, still. It made me wonder whether she had done this before. To my knowledge horse shows were meant to show off a horse's movements. I could be wrong about that though. I just figured a horse would be more energetic and wouldn't be all that great at standing still in front of a crowd. Did horses even care if there was a crowd...?

Sighing and hoping this wouldn't turn out like it had with Thunder, I began sketching. I was also wondering if Danny was watching me right now. It would be creepy, that was for sure, but he said it was because of my concussion so at least his intentions were good. Maybe. It was weird knowing that a ghost could be right beside you and you didn't even know it. He could be right here now, in fact, keeping watch as I drew. I had mixed feelings about that but I tried to ignore it and focus on my work.

As with Thunder, the unlucky horse before, Muffin's basic features were quickly and easily drawn. It took very little time to configure where the shading should go to help bring out her thick mane and beautiful coat. Detailing her hooves was actually the same as detailing her coat—the shading had to be lower and to the back so as to match the shadow Muffin created as the light hit her. But she shone with beauty and I knew my portrait would turn out great. Assuming, that is, that this went smoothly and no one would be stupid enough to take more pictures.

As the class moved on, I grew less and less concerned about another rampaging horse. This mare was surprisingly calm and collected. After yesterday's little fiasco, nobody seemed all that willing to think about pulling out a camera in this class. These combined helped put my mind at ease and I was able to finish without worrying about horses gone wild.

In the end, I finished fourth and proudly looked over my work. It wasn't perfect and I knew it wouldn't be—otherwise I wouldn't be in college learning how to improve my art skills—but I was pretty satisfied. It was the first time I had ever had an animal for a model so this was an accomplishment. If Thunder hadn't snapped like he had, maybe my work would've resembled him instead. But either way, be it Muffin or Thunder, I managed to draw a horse with grace and for that I was thankful.

Then again...I was in an exceptionally good mood today—perhaps due to the praise Danny gave me yesterday as well as his promise to help me with Anatomy. I'd always struggled with that horrid subject. I was never able to ace a single test on it and could only make up for it with extra credit. That was in high school though, and this was college. Extra credit here might not help me as much as it used to and I was determined to graduate with top grades.

Although to be honest, narcolepsy made it a tad more difficult than it was for other people. I took antidepressants to help stave off the episodes but even my neurologist told me—there was always that chance. That said, I did get spacey sometimes and whenever I got excited or overly happy, I would have an episode. Any kind of thrill also triggered one, which was why I had to stay away from rollercoasters and drop towers—any thrill ride, actually. Caffeine was another no-no for me, so that was awesome since I didn't really have anything to wake me up on the days I got tired. But I did count myself lucky. The antidepressants helped me sleep better at night and ultimately treated my narcolepsy.

Note the word "treated" in there. Narcolepsy was incurable. The spacey feeling I got when my brain literally just slowed down on me for a few seconds used to be a cataplexy episode. Cataplexy was basically just narcolepsy taken to the extreme. I never had cataplexy episodes anymore, but I used to and they weren't fun. My knees would suddenly buckle under me and I would fall down stairs, out of chairs, over the edge of my bed, and other various things like that. The episode would last just as long as a narcoleptic episode—a few seconds to a few minutes—but the difference was that I wasn't unconscious. I was completely aware of everything around me but I was paralyzed. It was scary because in that time anything could happen to me and I would be helpless to stop it. The first time that happened, my mother freaked out and tried to wake me up. She had no idea that I was already awake and wanted to answer her. She thought I'd passed out but in reality I was trying to move anything I could to let her know I could hear her. She kept yelling my name and tapping my cheek. I was finally released from my paralysis and sat up as though I'd never fallen over in the first place. It was then that I told her I could hear her and was trying to answer, but couldn't. We discovered that I could also go into a cataplexy attack—I still thought of it as an episode but he had specifically called it an attack so whatever—when we consulted my neurologist. He said that unlike my normal episodes, cataplexy only caused loss of muscle function, which explained why I could still be conscious at the time. He said the attacks were only temporary and unless it happened at a dangerous time, like if I was on a tall tree or ladder, it wasn't dangerous and wasn't likely to cause brain damage. The antidepressants I took helped keep not only my narcolepsy in check, but also my cataplexy. So I was lucky to have a treatment at all—it could be so much worse than it was.

But it was so embarrassing to have a brain condition. In middle school one student found out and the news quickly spread. Everyone constantly teased me. Some of them figured out what triggered narcolepsy and set traps left and right. Back then we were still trying to figure out how high the dosage should be on my medicine so I was still very much capable of having my little episodes. They would do something funny right in front of me. Laughter triggered my cataplexy and I would fall over, seemingly unconscious. Then they would do something to excite me. Excitement triggered my narcolepsy and I would pass out, this time truly unconscious. Everyone made fun of me, saying I was too sensitive or couldn't handle happiness. Sometimes I was called a crybaby—which made zero sense since any negative emotions aside from anger and stress didn't trigger squat. Other times I was called a drama queen. No one stopped to think that I might not be able to help my condition, that I didn't want to go through this. They couldn't take just one moment to consider how I felt.

Ever since then my condition was kept strictly secret and not even Jazz knew about it. My mother, my father, me, and sadly all the middle-school kids were the only ones who knew. After middle school my family and I vowed never to tell anyone—although to be fair I doubted my dad even cared to begin with so it was a given that he wouldn't bring it up. Now that I was in college, all those middle-school kids had probably forgotten all about me so...I was safe.

Sighing, I waited for the class to finish up. It wasn't too often that I thought about my condition. It was being treated so the only thing I had to worry about was taking my medicine every day. I had long ago added that to my morning routine: get out of bed, eat breakfast, take medicine, get dressed, brush hair, brush teeth, put makeup on, fix hair, and finally gather up things and leave for school.

Tapping my pencil eraser kept a steady sound going—a soft one so as not to upset or draw the attention of Ms. Slender. I yawned at the little pattern of the quiet "tup, tup, tup". Narcolepsy didn't just include sleep episodes and cataplexy. It also included daytime symptoms—the biggest and most annoying one being exhaustion. On top of that, narcoleptics didn't exactly sleep well at night. Sure, I took medicine to help me with my episodes, but it couldn't help me get to sleep without waking up constantly at night. It was just one of those things I had to put up with I guess. Besides, what the neurologist told me was true—those with narcolepsy grew so used to their sleep deprivation that they didn't realize how unusual their tiredness was. Even after having been told that, I still didn't quite get it. I knew it wasn't normal but I didn't know just how abnormal it was because like all the others, I, too, had grown so used to this.

Of course tapping my pencil probably wasn't helping me here. If anything it was playing me a nice, steady lullaby. I could probably go to sleep now anyway—this class was supposed to go on for another hour and I was already done with my work. But what if she gave us more while I was asleep? What if she was just waiting for everyone to finish first? That would really suck for me...

Well, no point in getting frustrated about it. I would have to stay awake for the duration of the cl— Scratch that—for the duration of school. And to think that naps were actually supposed to help me, but where the heck could I take one of those and even more importantly, when would I have the time?

Well...how awesome for me. Everyone else should realize their blessings and not take being able to stay awake without growing fatigued for granted.

It would be a long day... I shouldn't have stayed up that late studying the things I already knew..

A/N

OMG OMG OMG... You guys...are...so...amazing... I mean 90 reviews for 8 chapters?! That's just...awesome! I don't even know what to say! :') It gave me a lot of drive to finish up this chapter. Unfortunately I waited too long to read them or even check how many there were, which is why it took longer...a lot longer. And it wasn't just that either. I have a lot of other stories to update.

Well, I can assure you things will start to get interesting. ;D Danny? Sam? SECRETS?

I know I don't deserve to ask this of you, but I will repeat this: reviews give me drive and the more the merrier (and the more inclined I feel to keep writing!). I usually will ask if anyone has an idea, as I do with my other stories, but this particular story has a plan for once, so I'm afraid that I simply cannot take another idea or else the whole story will be led down a different path. Any of you who are authors know how hard it can be to get a story back on track.

SO PLEASE REVIEW! Give me the inspiration I so desperately need... *-*