Chapter 32: The New Roommate
"You look more upset than ever." I was sitting at the chair across from Dr. Snyder, nodding my head when he commented on my mood, with me unable to hide it as I played with my hair, kicking my feet back and forth. "Why are you upset, Hazel?" he asked, crossing his left leg over his right.
I stopped playing with my hair, pausing my legs in a still manner, shifting in my seat. "Jackson left…" It hasn't come out clearly, but he heard it.
"You're upset because Jackson left?" I gave him another nod to answer him. "Well, it may seem hard to deal with it at first for a while. A lot of other people's roommates will leave, having others feel upset as you are right now. Don't worry, I'm sure he'll miss you too. I bet he'll be waiting for you when you leave this place." He gave me an encouraging smile, except it never helped when an awkward silence fell between us. It didn't last long until he broke it. "Okay, um, let's continue on so you can go to your group therapy."
Even though I never said anything to answer him, all I can think of was Jackson on how he left me. I know he'll never do it on purpose, it just hurts me like a ton of bricks getting taken off the wall of a house.
Looking down at my feet, I wondered who will be my new roommate. Will this new roommate me nice to me? Or will this person be cruel to the point where he - or she - cannot stand a girl who's always dull, not to forget dull looking as well.
I wanna go home, back to Stine and Hannah. I want to start fresh, starting off with going to real school, to try again. Really. I'm not even kidding when I thought about the first time around, this being my second time thinking about it. Going to school online won't help me learn things like English to Math classes unlike the stuff I learned back in kindergarten, quitting around mid-September where it was basically warm during that time of the month.
Sitting there, I mostly gave my therapist nods to yes or no questions until he got to more of the deeper ones where I have to talk. These types of questions are difficult to answer to the point where I began to get overwhelmed, causing him to stop at an instant to the point so I won't get anxious, along with gripping my hair, ripping some out of my head, the stranding in my fingers.
One of the deeper questions is about my god family, the memories I wanted to forget flooding back to me, the ones I want to forget forever - even the dreams of Travis, hoping - praying - for him not to come to my life. I don't want to me him nor his parents ever again, knowing for a fact of what will happen to me.
Actually, the more I think about them, the more anxious I get. Grabbing more of my hair, I pulled down on it, creating a painful sensation, like it was getting yanked by a vacuum cleaner. It reminded on how Jeff would grab me like this, taking me by the hair to drag me to the room where he can beat me, begging him to stop hitting me with his leather strap.
Remembering the beatings caused my body to ach where he had whipped me - like my side where I get most of the bruises from his so called weapon. I don't know why the people I lived before I ran away hate me, but… I believe they won't remember me…
To me, for all the things they've done to me, is...not right. Releasing my hair, I asked this to Dr. Snyder. "Is there a word where a child gets beaten by any kind of parent?" I was afraid to get the question out, but I did it.
He doesn't answer for a long time, getting me worried, knowing how dumb it was to asked such a thing. "Yes." Hearing this, I lifted my head up to see a sorrowful face all over him, including in his eyes. "The word you're looking for is abuse," he stated matter of factly, uncrossing his legs, setting both feet down on the floor. "It doesn't sound like you were getting punished for the things you never did."
I crinkle my brows together, unaware of what he was talking about. "You mean...what Jeff did to me wasn't punishment? Then why does he always hit me?" The thought of it made my whole body shudder.
"He could be angry about something, who knows?" Shrugging his shoulders, he bit his tongue. "I don't know what will get him angry; it has to be something. It's not your fault for your god parents to treat you poorly, along with their son blaming you things you've never done."
I wasn't sure how to respond to the speech he gave me, wondering what he said is true. Hmm, I should write a story about this, about my past life, where people can get to know me better. It can be, not a long story, it can be a good story where it's not too long and not too short, letting people read it, viewing my personal life I've been through.
I'll put the people, not my real parents, my god family in the story, using their real names instead of fake ones most writers will do.
"Our time is up," he suddenly announced. "Go on to group therapy before you're late," he ushered me. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Getting up from my chair, I gave him a slow wave. "Yeah...see you until the next day…" I wish I can leave right now. It's not a bad place, though I do feel homesick from time to time.
Don't worry, Hazel, I began to reassure myself, walking down the hallway to group therapy. You'll return to Stine someday to have a much better life.
Although, for some reason, I cannot help to think of this...other person… It's not Travis, it's someone else… someone made out of… wood…
Nah, it couldn't be him I'm worried about. Stine promised me he'll never let the evil dummy out of the new book he got trapped in with the other monsters. It sounds...silly to think about him doing such a thing, breaking a promise he made.
Shaking the wooden being out of my mind, I finally reached group therapy, seeing I was the second person to be here, taking a seat next to a boy with ruffled, black hair, reminding me of a sponge you use to wash dishes with. He wore a dark green shirt, dark brown sweatpants, and blue shoes with red laces tied together.
My first instinct was to say hi to him, to tell him my name. Only he seemed not to be interested in saying hello, the way he's avoiding my gaze, like I'm some kind of creature from underground. He looked shy from the way he's acting, picking his skin off his fingers, letting a piece fall lightly to the floor.
I wanted to tell him not to pick on his skin so he won't get an infection. Except I don't want him to think I was a rude teenager, keeping my thoughts to myself in order for him to ignore me, fearing he'll lash out on me when I say something to him - like skin picking, knowing it's a bad habit, adding with nail biting and lip picking.
I used to pick on my lip a lot when I used to live with my real parents, ripping lip skin off where it'll end up bleeding a little, leaving a small scar until it stops. Luckily, I would get praised to where I won't do such a thing, getting a treat such as going to the candy store to buy all my favorite candies, like chocolate.
So turning to face him, I held out my hand, and introduced myself. "I'm...Hazel…"
The boy ignored me, flicking his thumb underneath his pointer finger, chewing the inside of his mouth, as if I'm invisible towards him. It doesn't take long for him to respond to the greeting I gave out.
"My name's...Leo…" It came out soft, although I manage to hear him. "I'm new at this place," he told me, squirming in his chair.
"Is there a reason why you're here?" Even though it's not my business, I was just curious. "I'm here for my illnesses to get better as well as suicidal watch."
"Oh, I'm...sorry to hear that." He never looked at me, like he was afraid to. Maybe he wants to be left alone, which is fine by me as long he isn't being… "I know I'm being disrespectful, but I'm not good at talking to other people. It makes me…" He gulped, covering his face with his hands, trying to hide from me.
Knowing how he feels, I placed my hand on him, getting his attention. His eyes moved to my direction, keeping his hands inches away from his face. He shook my hand off, standing up from his chair, going over to a new one.
Wow, he seemed super upset about something to make him feel this way. Did he get abused? It's something I wanted to ask him, even though it's a hard thing to come across when meeting someone who's this upset. The misty eyes of his couldn't fool me. Guess I'll have to wait until art therapy.
So I sat there, waiting for the others to come to this room to start group therapy, wanting to know more about the newcomer, my curiosity getting the better out of me.
When everybody came, they all sat down, chatting with one another with such happy mannerism while I, sitting in my chair like a fool, kept on eyeing the new boy known as Leo. I like his name, something I never heard before. I don't remember a kid from my class called Leo in my entire life span. In fact, I don't remember any of my old classmates when I quit school at a young age.
Standing up, I approach Leo, going over to him. Keeping my hands to myself since he won't shake any of them, I cleared my throat, my face full of...nothing. It got his attention, seeing me there in front of him. "Hey," I tried again. "I have a hard time talking to people too. Well, used to be hard until I made a few friends outside of this place before I came here."
He seemed to understand, tugging at his shoe laces, wrapping the loop around his pointer finger. "I'm guessing you want to know why I'm here, huh?" he responded, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. I opened my mouth to tell him I'm in no interest to why he's here, except he beat me to it. "I have...social anxiety and panic disorder. I have a hard time walking up to people like a normal person would do," he explained, feeling both comfortable and uncomfortable about talking about his weakness. "I've been like this when I was in second grade." Finally, he manage to pick his head up. "You look serious," he commented, noticing my lips downwards in the same facial expression I have for all these years. "Is it bad for me to say…"
"That I don't smile?" I bobbed my head up and down. "Don't worry, I've been like this since I used to live with my god family." He parted his mouth. "I rather not talk about them anymore," I quickly stated before he can say anything. "I want to forget about them as long as I live."
I hoped I never come off as being a rude person, expecting him to get offended for not letting him speak. He didn't, however, as he scratched his head. I can almost sense he wanted to say more, and before I can ask him, he spoke.
"What room are you in?"
My brows raised up when hearing his from him. "What room I'm in? Like where patients sleep during the night?"
"Yeah… I have room D12…" He trailed off when my bottom jaw dropped down, leaving a shocked expression on my face. "...what…" Seeing this from me made him feel uneasy. "Was it something I said…?"
Snapping out of my trance, I vigorously shook my head, my hair whipping from side to side before settling down when I stopped. "No, it wasn't something you said, it's that...you have room D12?" I did my best to hide the surprising feeling all over me, refusing to look like a fool. "I'm in room D12," I exclaimed, despite not showing it considering the serious look plastered on my face, wishing I can be like this in a more...positive way like what most people would feel when hearing something like this.
A grin broke out of him, showing a bit of his teeth, looking like pearls you'll find inside an oyster on a beach. "Cool…" was all he can say in a low tone. "Am I your...first roommate?" He seemed to hesitate when asking this.
Not wanting to lie, I shook my head. "No, Jackson was my roommate. He left a while ago because he's well enough to go home."
"Ah, I see…" Biting his bottom lip, he looked like he wanted to say something. I can already see it in his head, the things he wanted to spit out. Finally, he did. "You said your name is Hazel...right…?"
"Yeah…" I answered. "And your name is Leo. Why?" I questioned, taking a seat, my heart pounding in my chest, ready to explode at any minute.
Swallowing, he slowly gazed at me, chewing his bottom lip more intensely than ever. His body seemed to sag when he was able to spill out what else he needed to tell me.
"I'm one of your classmates."
Stine
I waited for my first class to get here, tapping my foot on the floor, drumming my fingers on my desktop. It was still early, so none of the classes are ready yet with all the teachers preparing for their first set of classmates like I did.
On the first day of school, I actually came in late to be honest from getting Hannah back for her to reunite with Zach, who is one of my students, an hour away from the day ending. That, and I have to wait for my daughter to get ready to see, for what you can call, her true special someone.
It never occured to me overtime where I wanted her to have a boyfriend. Actually, I made sure she stayed away from everybody - even boys - while she was a ghost; a dead person, I should say. I never wanted any kind of boy near her, afraid they'll know my dark secret, fearing they'll spread rumors around my first town of Columbus, Ohio, along with the other places we've moved to, avoiding people as much as we- I mean, I can. The last place we moved out of Chicago, and, boy, was it a nice place to be at until we had to move.
Of course, my daughter wasn't too happy about it, except she had no choice. We packed up, I called the moving company, they came, got our stuff, and me her drove off in the car, knowing we'll have to stop in some hotels to stay at for who knows how long it'll take to get to this state we're currently in now.
We may not be near a beach, though I would like to go there with everybody. But it's March, too cold to go to the ocean to have fun.
Soon the bell rang and kids poured into the room, laughing and talking. Two boys throwed balled up pieces of paper at each other like they were dodgeballs at a gym as they made their way to their desks near the windows. They continued on until I loudly clear my throat, getting them to stop, pausing them like I would do with the TV when I'm watching a movie.
I stepped up to them, eyeing the two young men. My mouth formed a creased, tight frown on my face, lowering my brows as I gave the boys strict looks through my glasses.
These two boys are known to be trouble makers, throwing crap all over the room such as balled up paper from their notebooks, needing them to take notes for all their classes. They'll even chew gum in my class, chewing it loudly to the point where I'll tell them to throw it away in the trash can. I won't tolerate any food and candy in my classroom whether they like it or not.
Tolerating with paper throwing isn't an option either. The boys can only stay frozen at their seats when one of them had the courage to speak.
"Hey…" A smile came over him very awkardly me. "Me and Jared are fooling around is all," he told me, freeing the crumpled up paper. My eyes followed it as it bounced on the floor, barely touching my dark work shoes I wear when I'm working. Though, I always wore dark shoes throughout my entire life. "Yeah, we decided to, you know, mess around…"
"Clean this up." Shutting him up, I pointed down at the floor. "These are your papers, boys, you pick them up and throw them away. I'm not letting the janitors see this mess you guys made."
"But-"
"Now!" The way the tone was given off, both boys got up from their seats, knowing I meant business, picking up all their papers, tossing them into the trash can. I have to admit, they do have skills with getting all the smashed up papers into the trash can without walking up to it. They can be troublemakers from time to time, but deep down, they're good kids. They're also helping with the Spring Dance, which I'm happy about.
By the time all the papers are picked up, they got back in their seat. "You're welcome, Mr. Stine," Jared said, with me unable to thank them first. I may be a strict, stern like teacher for those who see me like this, thinking I wasn't the 'fun' type of teacher. I can be a great and a strict teacher. It depends on how I'm feeling.
The feeling I got as for right now is being stern with certain students for my English classes who cause lots of trouble in this school, receiving detentions like I had to do with one of the boys from my last set of children who argued about the homework on the second day of my job, telling me I shouldn't do that simply because I'm taking over their original teacher who is still recovering from injuries from one of the monsters he got attacked by when the school went ransack with all of my evil creations I made in order to keep people away from me, including my daughter.
My class talked on and on, mostly talking about the dance, wondering who'll ask them out to the event. Some wanted to know who'll be the special entertainment.
Raising my hands, I silenced them. "Let's all settle down," I said, keeping my tone at the right vibe; no yelling or anything at the matter. "You guys can talk about the dance after school. We need to get started on class." They all nod respectingfully, opening up their ears. "Great," I grinned. "Take out your homework from last night and I'll take them off your hands."
While I waited patiently for all of them to get out their homework, I saw one of them with her head hung low, her curly locks tumbling over her eyes, seemingly to look guilty.
Going over to her, I put my hand on her desk. Gasping, she noticed my appearance, quickly fumbling into her backpack, pretending to look for her homework, searching through the entire thing.
"I-I know I did it, sir," she stammered, ripping out all of her school supplies, setting them down on her desktop. Colorful pens rolled off, clattering onto the floor. "Sorry…" Bending down, she scooped up her pens, shoving them in the pocket of her backpack before checking the whole thing over again. It doesn't seem like she's pretending to look for last night assignment for how frantic she is. "Ugh!" A distorted grunt rippled from her. "Where is my homework?!" she rang out, tipping her book bag upside down, releasing all her contents onto the ground, spilling it everywhere.
Knowing she's going to have a spaz attack, I carefully took the backpack away from her, ceasing her search for her homework. "Don't worry about it for now, Jenny," I assured her. "You might have left it at home; it's no problem. I used to leave my homework behind both at school and at home when I was your age. Though you are going to get half credit for it, understand?" I arched an eyebrow, waiting for her response, handing her backpack who grabbed it with me uncurling my fingers and thumb off the strap. It took awhile for her to gain the process I gave her, but she peered up at me, sending me a nod. "Good." Giving her a smile, she did the same thing, forgetting about her homework she did when she mistakenly left it at home possibly.
While she was cleaning up the floor, I collected everybody else's homework, thanking them as I did so.
Although we're reading chapters for The Hobbit, they have to write an essay on the chapters they've read - chapters ten through twenty. It was a challenge for them, though I knew they could do it. The same will go for all of my classes, including the one where I have Zach and Champ, my two favorite students, even though Champ whines sometimes about the homework, being it 'too hard' for him to accomplish it. But he's doing pretty well then I expected from him for how he acts, for him being a coward for the most silliest things on earth.
Gathering the last of the papers from the front, I set them down on my desk on a neat pile, grabbing a copy of the book we're continuing to read. "Please take out The Hobbit and go to chapter twenty-one." Obeying, everyone of my students took out the book, my ears catching the sound of page turning. When it stopped, I called out to the first kid. "Ronnie, you can start us off," I said to him.
"Yes, Mr. Stine," he replied respectingfully before reading the chapter. He read carefully, slowly for everybody to keep up unlike the kids I had when I was in school for English class, reading either fast or softly to where I'll get frustrated when my teacher tells me to pick up where my classmate stopped at.
It was nerve racking when I could never find where my classmates will leave off, smart enough that they'll do that on purpose from how different I was, being mysterious at a young age when I was in high school, bringing back memories from all the bad times back in Ohio, way before I met my ex wife, creating monsters - everything.
I wasn't a...popular kid, always sitting by myself at the lunch table, getting food thrown at me, my glasses being purposely knocked off my face when someone whams me in the back of my head while I'm trying to read in peace during Study Hall.
I will tell them to leave me alone, only to get laughed at in my face. I had transferred to a new school, hoping it'll stop until I enrolled there, the bullying following me there.
Throughout the rest of my school years, I had no choice but to deal with it. I went on with the rest of my school years being picked on for no apparent reason, growing up with it, the bullies constantly degrading me of every chance they got. Whenever my teacher has his back turned, someone next to me will throw a pencil or any school material at me, knocking off my attention span, turning to see a devilish grin on my stupid classmate's face.
This went through all my school years, as well as collage. Same experiences, same teasing… I dealt with it.
Are my old bullies out there, waiting to strike again? It's a thought that'll run in my head, wishing it'll never happen again - especially now since I have a teenage daughter.
Paying attention to Ronnie's reading from all the awful memories of being in school, I made sure he read the sentences correctly, knowing some of my students with either stutter, starting over at the beginning, or pause for a brief moment, then continue on. It doesn't drive me crazy, being well smart enough to know not everyone can read perfectly.
I held up my hand. "You can stop right there, young man," I halted him. He stopped reading, placing his finger on where he stopped at. "Nat, pick up where he stopped at," I instructed my next volunteer.
Nat sat up in his chair, searching for a second. When he manages to find the spot to pick up where we're at, reading carefully, slowly for all of us to understand, taking his time. He paused a few times, making sure he read a word fluently, going on from there.
It was then a knock came at the door, interrupting my class session. I went towards the door, ready to answer it.
Upon opening the door, I saw Principal Harrison standing there, cleaning his glasses with his shirt. He placed them back on his face, pushing them up on the bridge of his nose, getting them straight. He smiled when he saw me. "Hey there, Stine," he greeted humbly. "I picked out the classes Hazel will like, the ones Champ, Zach, Hannah, and Taylor have for she won't have to worry about talking to new people on her first day of school - even though it's March, meaning there's only three months of school left before summer break comes. Her school supplies will arrive soon, though," he told me.
Hearing the news, I smiled at it. "Thanks." Giving me a wave, he walked back to his office, leaving me to close the door. "Alright, let's get back to where we were," I spoke to the class. "Nat, you may continue," I proceeded, flipping my hand forward.
He did what I told him, being careful at each word with everyone following along, unable to lose their place in the books in front of them.
Listening to him read, I wondered how well Hazel will do in real school since she quit kindergarten back when she was very little. I was stunned when I heard this from my daughter when we were enjoying the pie my girlfriend made, even though Hazel never ate hers from how...depressed she is.
Despite this, she's at a very special place to get the right help with her illnesses. I gave the person at the front desk my phone number for them to call me when they think she's well enough to return home. It took only two days to bring her to the Mental Hospital for how far it is from the town of Madison, taking hours to reach the place. Adding to when I have to come home, it took me another night to get to my house with my daughter waiting for me.
I guess she thought I won't able to return home at first when I go out to do errands when she used to be a ghost, leaving her in the house of every place we live in, locking both the front door and back door to prevent her from going outside, a bad choice I made when I first thought of it, believing it'll keep her safe from any stranger who will be willing to break into our homes.
Luckily, no robbery ever happened, leading me to check on her when I come back home from the grocery store, asking her if she's okay.
"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine all thanks to you for locking me up in the house," she'll respond sarcastically, rolling her eyes, an annoyed expression taped on her face. "You do this all the time, so you should know without asking me." Of course, this gets me angry at her, leaving me to keep my temper under control when I tried to explain to her, except it'll lead up to an argument, both of us hollering at each other, my volume becoming much louder than hers, causing her to stop. It's almost like she wanted me to win… giving up, storming up to her bedroom, slamming the door to make a loud bang sound, letting any house we lived in to shake.
Throughout our arguments, I'll be the first one to say sorry to her before she can say how sorry she was for acting like the way she does. I'm glad I rewrote her back to existence, getting her out of the new book I like to call hell.
At least some things changed… There are ones I need to improve, such as getting Hazel used to being around Slappy once he tells her how sorry he is for what he has done to her, the fact of how challenging it will be for her for how much she went… Do I have to keep on repeating on this subject? It's getting old to where I don't want to even want to think of what her god family did to her. I never wanted to see them, unable to believe how they treated her in the past for her not being their real daughter, for them being...cruel around her, acting like...idiots…
"You okay, Mr. Stine?" My thoughts were suddenly stopped when a girl with red curly hair spoke out, her eyes filled with concern. "You're teeth are clenched together," she informed me, pointing. "It looks like you're in...pain."
I hadn't noticed my teeth are squeezing together tightly, answering why they began to get sore, almost feeling like they're about to break. "Yeah…" Releasing my grip of my teeth, I lowered my bottom jaw, responding to the worried question. "I'm fine…" I told her. "Next time, raise your hand when you speak," I said. "You can go next."
Looking down, she picked up where Nat left off, for he got tired of being interrupted. I don't blame the boy; I never liked being interrupted either when I'm trying to do something - like when my old bullies will cause me to lose my focus when I'm creating a new monster for a new Goosebumps book.
At least I'm done writing those stories, never have to worry about any monsters getting out of their books…
Or so I thought… Some reasons, I have this eerie feeling it'll happen again, like it'll happen for the third time...where more of my monsters are going to get released… By a different monster of some sort.
Okay, okay, I'm being edgy. No way more monsters are going to take over the town unlike last time, here and back in Chicago, becoming ridiculous about the thought of thinking such a thing. I should think about the positive side, ignoring the bad ones. I shook my head, forcing those thoughts out of my head. Luckily, everyone had their eyes on their books, with nobody asking me for it I'm okay or not.
It's a great thing my boss found classes for Hazel to enjoy - with her first set of friends in them. Now I have to wait for the school supplies to arrive, either here at the high school or at my place, wherever they'll be depending on where they'll get dropped off.
Though I do need to tell her about Slappy, knowing she'll get mad at me for breaking a promise to her. She never liked Slappy from the start; seeing him, hearing his name, the fear of having dolls, a normal thing to be afraid of such as spiders Hannah sometimes sees in our house, crawling up one of her bedroom walls. There was this one time when she came to me, freaking out over an arachnid on her bed, while I was about to go to sleep.
I got rid of it for her, no doubt about it. Admittingly, it was a creepy spider in a black, glossy color.
I knew what spider it was - a black widow. I don't know anything about those crawly things, except when I know a black widow is one of the most venomous spiders in the whole world. It also doesn't help that I released a book with a large spider on the front cover - Goosebumps Hall Of Horrors: Night Of The Giant Everything.
A hand raised in front of me, right in the middle of the classroom. I lifted my head up, arching a brow. "Yes, Kyle?"
Looking embarrassed, he set the book down, turning it upside down. "Can I...go to the bathroom?" I couldn't help it, a grin broke off my face. "...what…?" he said, sinking down in his chair. "I don't mind waiting after class to go, but…"
Shaking my head, I explain why I was grinning. "I'm not laughing at you, kid. I'm laughing of how you asked. The right term to ask is 'May I use the bathroom', rather than 'Can I go to the bathroom'." The kid seemed like he never understood me; clearly enough he didn't get it. "Okay, you may go to the bathroom," I allowed, motioning the door with my hand, the smile being rid off of me. There are some people out there who'll not take a joke. "When you get back, you're the next one to read."
Quickly nodding his head, he got up from his seat, dashing out the hallway.
"No running!" I shouted down to the boy. "No running in the halls, Kyle! Hey - Oh, why do I bother?" I stepped back to my spot in the English room. "You may continue Mary," I proceeded.
"Thanks," she answered, searching for the place we stopped at. "Let's see… Aha!" She continued reading the book.
It doesn't take me long to know where we're at in this...boring book. Ugh, this book is lame! It'll be a lot better for us to read horror book better than The Hobbit. I feel like I should let the kids read what they want to read, but this is the book their doing from the start of the school year, and I don't want to get fired from my favorite job.
Honestly, I never thought I would be an English teacher. Never thought about it in my whole life until after the monster invasion, and after the people fixed up the school. I don't see the large hole at the gym anymore from the giant praying mantis who snatched one of the school kids.
Soon Kyle came back, going to his desk, sitting down in his chair. "Where are we at?" he asked, picking his book up, searching the pages with his eyes.
"We're on page thirty-four," one of my students helped, pointing at the page. "We're right...there."
He looked for a bit, then manage to find it. "Got it." The girl grinned, going back to her book. "I'll start where we're at," he said, remembering he's the next one to read. "This book is boring…" A few giggles came from several students. "Well, it is…" he mumbled, biting his bottom lip.
"Kyle…" I breathed out of my nose. "...just...read, please, okay?" I spoke, unwilling to hear any complaints from any of these kids, no mood for it ever. I don't like complaints nor whines, all thanks to the cowardly child, Champ, who always complains and whines about everything. I do feel bad for him too, don't get me wrong, for he said his parents are thinking about kicking him out all because of his cowardness.
I haven't heard anything about it since he only told me about it back when we're at Horrorland when we all went after the Invisible Boy. Maybe his parents eased up on him, changing their minds. I'm not sure, however, if they do such a thing like kicking him out of the house, I'll have a good talking to his parents.
The bell rang, having everybody close up their books as they got up from their desks. "Be sure to write a book you'll like to right; it's your homework for the night," I told them. "Make sure you do it, or else they'll be concinquences," I warned them hardly, eyeing each one. They didn't give out groans, all they did was let out 'Okay', before leaving the room.
They'll do their homework, I know they do, I assured myself, waiting for my next class to walk into the door.
Hazel
I blinked my eyes at Leo, confusion came over to my face. My confusion soon turned to anger, almost to where I bolted up from my seat. "YOU'RE ONE OF MY CLASSMATES WHO BULLIED ME!?" I yelled furiously, catching some attention from the other people. I ignored the stares, my venting going off. "I can't believe it! You-" I jabbed a finger in his face "-made fun of me, teased me, my life being ruined from you people back in kindergarten! I would've loved school if you guys never made fun of me for something I like! But no, you did it anyway!" Leo began to inch away from me. "Don't pretend you don't remember, old classmate," I seethed, ranting on. "I stood in front of the whole class when our teacher asked me to talk about a book I'm reading - a chapter book, a scary book! And you know what I got from all of you horrible classmates? Do you?" He was about to answer, only I beat him to it. "You laughed at me, you laughed at the books I love, being the worst enemies ever next to my god family!" I retaliated, my eyes welling up. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
Sitting there on the chair, he glanced down at the floor, kicking his sneakered feet. "...I never made fun of you…" he barely answered in a quiet mumble, though it was loud enough for him to be heard.
Unable to believe him, I grabbed him by the shirt. "You shouldn't lie…"
"I'm not fibbing, Hazel," he insisted, jerking his arm away from me. "I stood up for you when I saw the kids kicking sand at you for no reason after you ran off from the playground," he tried to tell me, except my face was stuck in a permanent grim look. "I wanted to be your friend, but...they told me not to be your friend, telling me your stupid who only likes Goosebumps books, a series I read, too."
"I-!" I stopped all of a sudden. "Did...Did you say you like to read Goosebumps books?" I must've missed heard him.
"Y-Yeah...I did…" Realizing what his last sentence was, his status went completely downhill, like when you fill up a cup of milk and it ends up all over the table in the phrase 'don't cry over spilled milk', picking the skin off his right thumb. "I thought I was the only one in the whole kindergarten class who loves creepy books. I've been collecting them when one of my family members' kids gave them to me…" I kept silent as I listened on, picking up everything he's telling me. "...when I would be sitting in class, I wouldn't pay any attention to what our other classmates are reading, more likely books with lots of pictures with less sentences, unlike me who hated those kinds of books to where I decided to...challenge myself into reading books with zero artwork in them." He paused, ripping a piece of his thumb skin off close to his nail, releasing it from between his forefinger and left thumb, freeing it to the floor. "Then one day...it happened when our teacher spoke to us…
'Alright, kids, I hope enjoyed the books that you are reading,' the teacher unexpecting announced, gathering our attention. I had my eyes glued on a Goosebumps book titled Go Eat Worms! in front of me, so when she talked, I glanced up, carefully placing the book on my desk, hiding it behind my arms pressed against each other, hoping, praying she won't call on me. 'How about one of you come up to the class, and tell us about the book that you are reading,' she suggested. 'It doesn't matter if you didn't finish the book or not. Just come up and tell us about it,' she encouraged, being the great teacher she's ever been.
Please, don't pick me, I hate speaking in front of people. I got myself ready, despite my social anxiety whipping around inside me, butterflies fluttering inside my tummy, waiting to be called up.
Looking at each student in the classroom, she landed her eyes on of them, sending out a brightfull smile, her teeth seemingly to glow white. 'How about we start off with a good reader? Hazel, can you come up and tell us about the book that you are reading?'
Hazel? I turned from my seat, seeing her at her desk at the third row, two desks away from the window, showing a bright, blue sky with no puffy clouds in sight.
I glanced at the treacher, who maintained her grin before looking back at Hazel. I watched her get up slowly like a turtle, grabbing her book, going up the front of the classroom with all of us staring at her. Luckily, she can't see me since I'm at the second row behind another kid in front of me.
I average height for a five year old, but I'm one of the few kids who's a bit taller, not minding about it. I got impressed at the book she's holding with her.
The teacher also had an impressive look, too, when she saw her book. 'You're reading a chapter book?' The way she said it sent off a good vibe...unless for me that is.
Hazel nodded her head, bobbing it up and down like a bobble head you sometimes see people having in their house or on the dashboards of their cars.
'Wow, you must be a very good reader,' the teacher complimented. 'What chapter book are you reading?' she inquired with lots of interest.
My classmate answered. 'Goosebumps…'
'Goosebumps. That's amazing. And what does the title of that book that you got there?'
It's The Barking Ghost.
Glancing at the title of the book, she read it, being clear with a soft voice she once carried.'The Barking Ghost…' However, the way she said it made her sound like she's...guilty. But why?
The teacher let out a playful shudder. 'Oh, that sounds scary. Do you like scary books?'
I do!
'Yeah… my real parents got me the books last year before I ended up with my god family.'
When she explained on how she received the books, I was unaware by the mention of god parents. Don't get me wrong, I heard of the term 'god parent', but I never knew she had a type of family who'll take her in. I bet their nice folks…
'Did you bring the books to their place?' the teacher asked.
'...yeah…' Why does she sound upset and possibly...scared? And Hazel isn't reading the book right now since she got called up. Probably because she's nervous, I assume.
'Would you like to tell us about the book is about?' I leaned to the right, hearing her speak to my classmate, eager to tell us about the book. I had read the book one time, thinking it was great.
Although… this girl doesn't seem to want to talk about it, handing off one word. '...no…' she mumbled
Our friendliest teacher's smile is now replaced with a frown of worry. 'Why not…?' she questioned, wanting to know why she won't tell us.
Glancing over at our teacher, Hazel opened her mouth, ready to-
'Because those books are awful!' someone right next to me shouted out, the room being erupted my uncontrollable fits of laughter, unable to cease down. I stayed quiet…
On my left, I caught the sound of giggling next to me. 'Those are the worst books ever!' This caused me to gaze at the girl at the corner of my eye. 'I mean, who would read those kinds of books?'
I began to cross at what she had stated… Clearly they don't know anything about how popular the books are.
I got ready to tell them, wanting to stick up for my poor classmate, standing there motionless, being uninsured to move, frozen like she was performing on stage in front of thousands upon thousands of people of all ages.
Nobody shouldn't judge things - especially books we both love to read.
However, before I can even get a single word out, our teacher has already began to try to take control over the loud laughs. 'Settle down, settle down. It doesn't matter what anyone readys,' she did her best to intervened.
The results in getting them to stop hadn't worked. They, minus me, continued on with their laughing.
I saw Hazel running out the back door, clutching the book in her hands, wanting to get out of there as fast as she could from the environment.
At least the laughter died by the time she got out of there, finally getting quiet.
'Now,' the teacher began, folding her arms over her chest, a disappointed feeling all over her, 'why did you kids thought it was funny, calling those books awful?'
Silence. A dull silence. I was about to speak when the bell rang off for us to play outside. Everybody scrambled out of their seats, bolting right outside as I put my book away in my desk. I got up from my chair, pushing it inwards. Then I went outside, seeing the kids, one of them seemingly to search for something - or someone - on the playground.
'Aha!' one of them declared, pointing at the direction towards the slide. He took off with the others close behind. I followed, too, going behind a tree, the trunk wide enough to hide me. 'Look what we found…' He took ahold of someone by the shirt. I almost gasped when I saw it was Hazel, forcefully being dragged to a sandbox not to far away from her hiding spot. Her book fell from her hand when she got pushed into it. 'Come on, ugly girl! Do something!' Sand came towards her when the kid provoked her.
I watched helplessly, watching them kick the yellow grains. She cried when I saw the sand go into her hair. The more she wailed, the more sand came.
Then, all of a sudden, her crying decreased, and I wasn't too far from where I was at to see anger rippled across her face, her hands holding onto the sand…
'That's it!' Hazel screamed, tired of this nonsense. She sat up, her hands clutched tightly into fists. 'Go ahead, mock me! I don't understand why you hated me so much!' I stood there, amazed to witness her being able to stand up for herself. I stepped a little away from the tree, listening. 'Is it because I have a god family who doesn't like me, so you can do the same when I'm at school?' Wait, her god family...isn't nice…? Whoa, I take back what I thought earlier. 'Huh? Isn't it?! Why?! Why do you guys judge me for the things I like?' she demanded.
I saw the same girl who sits next to me, seeing a not-so-nice grin painted on her face. 'You're useless,' she sassed, like she was a princess, a rude princess on the planet.
'How am I useless? I never did anything to you guys. Why can't you be nice and be my friends?'
The lad who forced her into the sandbox sent her a cruel sneer. 'No one wants to be your friend. I mean, who wants to be your friend?' I would be your friend… 'Oh, that's right. Nobody.' Untrue…
My ears picked up from the sound of screaming when Hazel threw sand in his face.
'My eyes! My eyes! MY EYES!' Screaming in agony, he swiped his hands over his eyes, trying to get the sand off of him as Hazel ran off after grabbing her book, running off the playground to who knows where...
He hadn't noticed when I walked towards in front of him, even with me not noticing as well. I stood there, waiting for him to stop with the screeching.
I felt my social anxiety building up inside me, shaking it off. He saw me once he was able to see.
He narrowed his eyes. 'What do you want? Actually, don't tell us. Where's the stupid girl at?'
'Don't call her stupid,' I responded. 'You should never, ever call someone by that term!' I yelled, ignoring my social anxiety for this one time. 'She isn't stupid, she isn't ugly, she isn't nothing!'
'She is, too, ugly!' an asian girl replied, rolling her dark eyes, almost looking black.
'And she's boring,' another added, receiving nods from the others.'She reads these dumb Goosebumps books all the time. Blah!' She stuck out her tongue, putting a finger down her throat, making gagging sounds. 'Uck! Those books are horrible!' she declared disgustingly. 'Am I right?'
Several let out different answers on her opinion of the series.
'Yeah, they're the worst books ever!'
'Burn the books!'
'Rip them apart!'
'Yes, we should make a petition. We should get all of the neighbors to sign it in order to take the books off the-'
'STOP!' Everybody shut up their mouths when I hollered. 'What is wrong with you people? Have you even read the books yourselves?'
'We don't need to read those horrible books to make our opinions on them.'
Glaring at the curly, brown haired kid, I stepped forward. 'You shouldn't judge the books… You should at least try to read them. I read those books and-'
'Gross!' Cutting me off, the same asian girl let out an exclamation point, rolling out her tongue. 'You read Goosebumps books, too? Ewww!' Being dramatic, she began to imitate the way she thought I would act around the books. 'Ooo, look at this one, the one with purple lizards. I love this book, it's so great.' All around her, the whole group bust out in another fit of laughter.
For me, it wasn't the way I acted whenever I read the books. I may love the books, but I never did something such as being over excited over those books. I would be happy when I find a new book at Barnes And Nobles on the young readers section, rather than to have an excitement fit to avoid stares in public, being it embarrassing to act in such a way.
I couldn't believe these...these...airheads. Making fun of Hazel and me for liking scary books.
'You know, tomorrow I'll asked her to be my friend since you idiots don't want to be her friend,' I spoke up, feeling upright compationed about my decision.
Getting this from me, they all gave me disgusted expressions. The same boy, whose eyes are now red, probably from the sand, went up to me, taking the front of my shirt, clutching it tightly. He gave me a frightening stare, sending shivers down arms to where the hair on them stood on end.
'We don't want you to be Hazel's friend…' he seethed, his teeth pressed tightly together. 'She doesn't need anybody to be her buddy. You should be like us, making fun of her!'
'No way!' I refused, yanking myself away from him. 'What makes you think I should be like you and the others, teasing her interests, bullying her day by day? I see you guys once pinned her on the wall outside of the school building while I was going to my bus,' I told them, straightening up my shirt, getting rid of the wrinkles. 'I don't need to be the same as you people. I'm not like you. I'll never be like you when it comes to the things you did to her. Who knows.' I shrugged my shoulders. 'Maybe someday I'll ask what's going on at her place - a place where her god family hates her because I indeed have one, too, but my parents and other family members are certainly still living.'
Sending me a sneer, he stepped towards me. 'We're glad she has people who hate her, the one she's living with now since her biological parents are gone.'
Whoa! Now what he said totally isn't right. Who says something like that, saying their glad for Hazel's god family for disliking her?
'You schoolmates are horrible,' I gave my own opinion. 'How about you leave her alone, to never bother her again? When find her, I'll be sure to tell on the principal for how you treated her, and wanting to know what happens at her place after school,' I vowed, keeping a promise to myself.
All of them rolled their eyes, seemingly not listening to my preparation. They turned, walking away, heading somewhere else. Only one of them stayed, glowering at me.
'We'll be sure you don't be nice to her,' he promised nastily, pointing a finger at me. 'We'll also make fun of you for liking Goosebumps books.'
This caused me to back down, like a wolf bowing down to the alpha, the pack leader. He's shaping up to be a leader of his group - in his own way.
I carefully walked away, retreating somewhere else on the playground in search for Hazel, to bring her to the principal, wanting to give him the news I had witnessed.
But… I couldn't find her. I checked every inch of the playground, unable to trace her down, searching...searching for her. I trotted over to the left side of the building, thinking she was hiding there, except all I found was a small patch of white daisies with bees collecting nectar, buzzing, wiggling their antennae. One of them saw me, lifting up from the peteled plant, hovering all while staring at me.
It seemed it wanted to give me sting with its stinger… Good thing I don't have allergies to stings, though I do have an allergy to peanuts, making life sometimes difficult for there are many food ingredients containing peanut oil, which led me to eat healthy, avoiding anything with peanuts.
Staring at the yellow and black striped bug, it seemed to lose interest in me, flying away with the other right behind. I exhaled, glad to not get a single sting from any of them. Now I should continue on with the searching…
However, I don't know where to look next. I had checked every inch of the backyard of the school - including the other side of it and the front of the building.
She wasn't there…
Where is she? How can she not be around here? It's...like she ran away.
No, duh, Leo, of course she'll run away from all of this. You should've stood up for her in the first place, rather than waiting for the right time. Feeling empty inside, I made my way back to the school playground when I heard the bell, indicating everybody it was time to go inside. Oh well, I'll see her tomorrow…
"I waited until the next day…" He hung his head, putting his upper teeth over his bottom lip, chewing it. "...to see you again...to tell you I wanted to be your friend - a best friend… You never walked into the classroom, you never came back. Everybody then started making fun of me for liking Goosebumps books after I told them," he said, tears running down his cheeks. "I felt sorry for you for the way they treated you. I really am… I didn't know your god family hates you, causing me to wonder what happens there when you go home after school…" The more he talked, the more I felt bad the more I believed him. "I hadn't had the courage to talk to you," he continued on, getting up from the chair, going up to the window. "My social anxiety prevented me from speaking to anyone until I saw our mean classmates torturing you on the playground. You can I kind of...got mad seeing them doing that sort of thing to you." A pause came to him when I walked over to the window. "When you didn't returned, not only did they teased me and bullied me, they also talked about how glad they are for you to be unable to come back to school. I tried to tell them to stop talking nonsense, but...they…" He choked up. "...they ordered me to shut my fricken mouth, telling me to stop being...bad for you. One time, I was reading a Goosebumps Two Thousands series known to be Ghost In The Mirror at recess on the swing, wanting alone time for myself when one of them took it, throwing it in the puddle because it rained one day. The book was all soggy, drooping wet, the pages all stained from the dirty water in the color of brown." Man, for somebody ruining a book by putting it in water sure made me angry on how kids treated those books without any care. "I had no choice, I ended up getting a new one to replace my old one. During the rest of the elementary school days, I forced myself to read other books, even though I hate reading new books I never liked." A fly swooped around his face. He grabbed it in mid-air, slamming it down on the floor, killing it, surprising me for seeing him do that in such a quick motion. "I did manage to tell my parents of what's happening in school, about you getting bullied with me doing my best to stand up to you for the first time after you went off somewhere, about how they started picking on me, my old book getting ruined, causing me to replace it. They asked if I had told the teacher or the principal when those things happened to me. Like, what am I supposed to say? Do I say, 'Hey, my so called classmates are now making fun of me for liking Goosebumps books?' No! I couldn't barely go up to her, at all! I more likely will chicken out, fearing it'll make things worse if she did tell them to cut it out with their behavior." Sighing, he shook his head, feeling disappointed in himself. "As the years went on, I became more insecure about myself, afraid of talking to people, my social anxiety getting terribly worse to the point where I have massive attacks - panic attacks everywhere I go." A second pause. "All I wanted to say is… I apologize for seeing our classmates picking on you before they went onto me."
My eyes are now sweeping across the yard of the building, retelling the events that happened on that day back at school, unknowingly for somebody wanting to be my friend, unlike the others who despised me. This was the first time somebody stood up for me after I ran away from school. Nobody had done this sort of thing for me, it makes me feel all…good inside? Eh, I'm unsure about my feelings from being unable to form a grin of any sort.
Taking my eyes off the windowpane, I directed them towards him. "At least you did your best for doing a good deed," I spoke softly. "You are a nice boy since you told me all of this," I opined, drumming my fingers on the windowsill. "Thank you for sticking up for me," I then thanked.
"You don't seem…"
"Happy?" I nodded, knowing what he was about to notify. "I'm here for my manic depression, schizophrenia, and my phobia of being touched," I explained, unafraid about my problems.
"Huh," Leo answered. "What happened to your forehead?" he asked, bringing his finger to the black threads he now noticed. "Are those-"
"Don't touch them!" Jerking his hand away, he flinched when I shouted out loud. "I had already told you, I have of fear of being touched. Right now, my last roommate suggest I should shake people's hands for me to get used to physical contact. Yes, these are stitches," I said. "I had an accident in the bathroom from the other day."
Putting his arm down, his flinch melted. "How did it happen?" he questioned in full curiosity.
I swept my hair behind my ears. "Long story short, I smashed my forehead on a mirror." He opened his mouth to ask more when I put my hand up. "I can tell you more at lunch time after art therapy," I promised, needing to finish group therapy before going there.
"Alright," he respectfully replied, factly knowing for me to tell him after art therapy during lunch hour. "How long have you been in this mental hospital?" he questioned, following me back to the group who are talking amongst each.
"This is my third day here…" I sat down, stretching my legs in front of me. "A guy named Stine, and yes, he wrote the Goosebumps books, brought me to this place after his daughter witness slice marks on arms. I wasn't trying to kill myself, I did it because I felt...horrible for who I become. There was this one time I heard her and her boyfriend talking when I was in the guestroom. I became angry...thinking they were talking about me. My anger spit away right after I pushed Hannah down on the floor like an out of control animal. Whenever Stine picks me up, I'm going to give her an apology present in case he forgot to say sorry to her for me. You know, for a good measure. She's friendly. One of the nicest people I have ever met, being my...friend. She also has a boyfriend now who has a best friend back in Madison, Delaware."
"Wow." Whistling, he clicked his tongue, making snapping sounds at the top of the roof of his mouth. "You're ways from home, Hazel," he commented, talking to me rather than the rest of the group around us. "How long did it take Stine to bring you here?"
Blowing a strand of hair out of my face, it landed back in place, tickling my nose. "It took him a few hours to bring me here; two days, I believe it was." A sneeze came out, being caused by my string of hair, finally placing it with the others. "I'm doubting I'll get better soon…" I began to feel hopeless, starting to believe my life will always be down the drain rather up like a flower blooming on the first day of spring. "My therapist back at home said some people get better faster than others."
Leo replaced his tongue clicking by twisting and untwisting the front part of his shirt. "...I'm from a different part of Delaware, too." This caught my attention, turning my gaze to meet his, despite the fact that he isn't...charming like Jackson. "I used to live where you live, until my father got a new job. We moved to where Rehoboth Beach is. My mom always loved the seaside when she was younger, collecting shells, building sand castles, such and such." He breathed out of his nose. "Did you live somewhere before living here in Delaware?"
His question got me wondering about me living somewhere else before living in this state. I've been living here all my life with my wonderful real parents with lots of fun memories before they turned sour when I lived with my disgusted god family, forcing myself to run away from there. "No, I always knew I lived here all through my life. Never had I lived in a different state." Being confirmed about my answer, except he wasn't.
"Are you sure…?" It feels like he doesn't believe me… "I mean, how do you know you been live-"
"I do, okay!?" I snapped in his face, my mood jumping from dullness to pure anger like it always does when I get annoyed fairly easily. "I swear by my real mom's grave; I've been living in this state throughout my life! Don't ask me again!" I raged. "I hate when people ask me the same damn question with me answering it twenty seconds ago!" I screamed, wanting to do something I'll regret. My fuming stage had him all cowered, looking like Champ when he gets hollered at by Hannah's dad whenever he gets irritated by him. My body slacked, going completely limp. "I'm...sorry," I manage to say, "I never meant to-"
Knowing how bad I felt, he shocked me by wrapping his arms around me. Again, like the first time when Stine did this to me, my body went stiff, my muscles tightened. The phobia of being touched racking inside me. I was too afraid to push him off, my panic rising.
Finally, I slipped off from him. My facial expression went from fear to stricken anger for the second time. "Did you forget already!? I don't like being touched!" Man, do I want to smack him right there. "Right now, Jackson suggested me to shake people's hands in order me to get used to being...touched. There's a reason why."
"Okay, okay, okay." Retreating, he pulled back his arms, hanging them to his sides. "It was my way of forgiving you," he explained in a mumbled tone. "I-I-I never meant to upset you. I won't touch you again. Ever."
Seeing how upset he is, I shouldn't have yelled at him like that. I should've stayed calm rather than be erasional about the sudden experienced.
"I'll tell you why I don't like being touched during lunch hour, alright? There's no need for me to react in such a way. I wished it went through your head the first time when I mentioned my phobia to you. With you, you have social phobia, explaining why you're afraid to talk to people. You shouldn't do something to somebody they dislike; it makes their fear worsten by not letting them take it step by step."
He listened to me, bobbing his head up and down, understanding about my situation. "...I guess I wasn't thinking… I should've thought it through. It's my fault."
"No, it's not," I said, reassuring him, willingly to place my hand on his shoulder, almost going to until I took it away, relaxing it on my left leg, creating sounds on the chair leg with my right foot. People didn't seem to complain as I kept the rhythm quiet for no one to hear it. "I may be...snappy from time to time, but it doesn't mean I'm...mean nor anything else in the world. I bet people will see me like a boring soul who doesn't want to do anything rather getting paid for doing chores for my neighborhood at my home. My own way of surviving without any adult until I began living with Stine and Hannah."
Quiet came between us. It seemed like Leo is more likely surprised on how I learned how to survive with no parents - even without any family member - for help. Adding to it, he seemed to have nothing else to put in, processing at what I told him.
It's unlikely for someone from five to sixteen to go out on their own, learning on how to live, learning how to get money at a young age with no jobs since it's illegal for a child - a small - child to do work. I'm sixteen, I could be old enough to do volunteer work. The problem is, I won't trust new people. The people I trust are the ones close to me… Unless Stine hadn't released the devil doll! I swear to God, I'll be greatly fuming if I see Slappy running around in the house, I'll make sure his creator puts him back in there.
It's also for Hannah's safety… Hold on a second. Safety? For Hannah's sake? Am I...starting to feel protective of her? I mean, I am a month older than her considering I'm born on July on the thirteenth that I mentioned already. Hannah's birthday, the day she got created by her adoptive father, is on August… You know, I never knew what day she was 'born' on. I know her book got released in August of nineteen ninety-three, presumably the year when she first got released from her book by her dad. It's something I have to remind myself in asking her on what day her birthday is. All I know is her birthday year. I don't really know what day her birthday is on.
Or did Stine wrote her into existence last year - two thousand and fifteen? He told me he made her after trapping Slappy in his book before he burned it when he got himself out there back in the study room of his house.
In fact, that devil doll was locked up three times. Stine never told me why the first time Slappy got locked back up when he was driving me here, possibly of how hard it is to talk about the way he hesitated on the subject. Hannah told me the second time he got locked up was back in Chicago when some young lady - a girl - helped her dad out to put the evil creature in the manuscript, and for the third time last year, when all the monsters got released from the demonic being, he - the dummy - got trapped with all of his buddies into one book, between all of the pages.
I do need to ask Stine on what happened to both Slappy and him when he had no choice but to lock up his...buddy in the Night Of The Living Dummy book, even though it's not my business. Though, I couldn't help but feel curious about it since he basically refused to tell me about it in the car.
Maybe he doesn't want to talk about it. I mean, he does feel guilty for doing what he had done, leaving me thinking it's a good thing for the evil thing to be trapped in a book - especially for what he had done to me back at the high school field where I got marked.
Marked… Have I checked my arm already to see if the strange words are still on my skin where Slappy had bitten me? I don't remember. Rolling up one of my sleeves, I checked in case I didn't, wanting to make sure to be safe about it.
Nothing. Nothing was on my arm except hair laying down. It did sprang up when my arm shook when I...sensed the dummy or whenever I hear someone say his name, I have to admit. It's like when people sense a ghost, the hair on their arms will go straight up, minus the shaking.
To be honest, I was pretty much closed off in the paranormal. I'm not saying I don't believe in ghosts since I read Goosebumps that has to do with ghosts.
But when I saw Hannah's body glow blue from the moonlight, I was beyond shocked at what I and the others had witnessed. I never knew she was spirit until that day.
Remembering the story I've been told by her dad, Stine did mentioned he wanted to create something good; no evil monsters or villains to deal with. He then ended up writing Hannah after trapping the evil dummy in his book years later, which is why I may have a hunch she was created and released from her book last year. But her book was published in the year of nineteen ninety-three, so I could be wrong about her being released from her manuscript last year.
Now thinking about it, all the original sixty-two books books in the Goosebumps series have been written in the nineties, unlike the newer series we see today in bookstores like Barnes And Nobles.
I do need to ask Stine about this. About when he first made Hannah with his special typewriter. It's better to ask then to figure this out on my own. Stine would've been very young back in the nineties, around his late teens or early adulthood.
Thinking about what year Hannah was made had me rubbing my temples. Probably from thinking too hard.
"Are you having a headache?" I stopped rubbing the sides of my head when Leo spoke, breaking my thoughts, raising my brows when I looked at him. "You're rubbing your head; it might mean you have a headache," he said, thinking it was the case.
I dropped my hands down on my legs. "No, no, I don't have a headache," I replied, wishing he hadn't seen me doing that. "I was...thinking, that's all," I told him. "Something you wouldn't understand."
"Oh?" A small grin formed on his lips. "Mind telling me what you're thinking about?" he inquired, his smile - a strange smile - crossing over his face. "Are you thinking I'm...cute?"
Upon looking at him, I immediately smack his shoulder, intavertaling in flinching at touching him in the process. "Are you out of your mind!?" I ultimately yelled, gathering some attention. I forced myself to ignore everyone else as the whole room fell silent, like somebody switching the channel off. "You think I'm thinking you're cute?" I couldn't believe this. Him, the person I had met thirty minutes ago thinks I have a crush on him!? "For your information, I don't have feelings for you," I informed my disgusted mood, unafraid of showing how unamused I am. "I already went out on a date last night. Last night!"
Rubbing where he got hit, he straight away went with my words. "Ow. I was just asking." I gave him a serious look. "I was curious. I never had a girlfriend because I was too afraid they'll reject me since I'm afraid of talking to people. I wish I had one, but I don't. I'm always afraid a beautiful chick will laugh in my face to spreading rumors-"
"Why would someone spread rumors?" I interrupted. "You shouldn't listen to rumors because they're aren't true."
"Yeah, right." Scoffing, he merely rolled his eyes to the side, unable to believe me. "I hear a lot of rumors at my school, Hazel. The ones about me, hearing people say how I'm weird of not being able to talk to someone, always sitting down by myself during lunch period to refusing in getting into group projects. In other words, I'm an introvert."
Unaware about the word 'introvert', I tilted my head.
Leo noticed right away, explaining what the term means. "An introvert is someone who likes to be alone, instead of hanging out in big groups of people. They're fine with a few friends to be with them, rather than a lot of friends. They don't like big parties, only hang outs with people they know. They also like to 'recharge' after doing stuff with their friends." He sighed. "For me, I don't have a lot of friends. I have a few who I hang out with from time to time, but I'm more of an...indoors type of guy." He paused for a moment. "What about you?" he then asked. "How many friends do you have?"
Good question. "I do have a few friends. Zach, Champ, Hannah, Stine, and Taylor who's Champ's girlfriend after saving her from a werewolf-" Immediately, I shut my mouth.
Again, he took notice of this. "Werewolf?" Oh no… "What werewolf?" He doesn't know about the monster invasion in the town of Madison. What have I done? I bit my bottom lip in nervousness. "There's no such thing as werewolves, Hazel. Monsters aren't real."
Feeling embarrassed about what I said, I decided to shut up. No way I'll tell him about the monster invasion that happened last year. He doesn't live in Madison. Only in Rehoboth, Delaware, a place where there's a beach to have...fun.
He doesn't believe in monsters, I told myself. He'll laugh at you if you tell him about the invasion. He might not of seen it on the news, either. You are so stupid, Hazel, I critized in thought. You shouldn't say anything about the Goosebumps baddies to someone who'll more likely dismiss it.
So I sat there, waiting for group therapy to be over, the urge to go to art therapy on my mind, wondering what we're going to make for today.
Leo dipped his thin paint brush in the paint jar filled with green paint. He then brought the brush up, the green liquid dripping on the easel as he lifted it to his canvas, stroking the bristles across it. He stopped, keeping the hair of the brush from moving any further.
I had stopped too, directing my eyes at him. "Is something wrong?" I asked, placing my brush in the purple jar of paint.
"...I don't know how to paint…" He seemed to hesitate to say it, his face coloring. "I don't know how to draw," he said, sounding upset. "At my school in art class, everybody will be doing great art work while I'll have trouble making a simple thing - like drawing a flower."
I stopped at what I was doing, facing away from my artwork. "You couldn't draw a flower?"
"Hey, it isn't my fault!" he practically defended, barely dropping the brush. "To me, a flower is difficult to draw." Taking his paintbrush off his canvas, he set it down, staring at the green line he made. "I would be too afraid to show my 'masterpiece' to the class," he said. "All around me, these kids will paint and draw...wonderfully unlike me who can only do stick figures instead of drawing realistic people everybody else does."
"Not everyone can draw, Leo," I stated matter of factly, cleaning my brush before dipping it into the yellow paint.
"Well, they can," he muttered bitterally in disbelief. "Like, how can they draw well?" he began to question highly. He placed his pointer finger on his chin in thought. "Maybe all my classmates in the art room learned how to draw at a young age…"
His theory could be right, I have to admit. But since I used to do artsy stuff back when I was younger, I wouldn't call myself an artist. To me, it sounded like boasting, and boasting is rude.
At least I still have mine since I hadn't made crafts back in school. Like I told Jackson before, all the kids would steal my work, showing it to the art teacher, telling her what they made, leaving me with glinstinging eyes.
However, when Leo is wondering how everybody can draw, it did got on my nerves a little. Taking a deep breath, I retold him my answer. "I'm going to say this again. Not everyone can draw." Hopefully, this would get him to stop…
"Yeah, but I know a lot of people can draw." Great, he starting to whine. To be honest, when Champ started whining about refusing to go to Horrorland to stop the Invisible Boy, it irritated me, forcing myself to hide it, unwilling to be rude. "Everywhere I go, I watch people paint, making it look like the item their creating, and-"
I couldn't take it anymore. Slamming my own paintbrush on the easel with some drops of paint landing on my shirt, I sharply turned to him.
"For the last time, not everyone can draw," I reiterated, wondering how many times I would have to repeat this. "I don't want to keep saying this to you; it's annoying to hear you complain, 'Everyone can draw'," I mimicked his whiney voice. "Seriously, stop." Once my ordereration got through to him, he managed to stop.
Recovering from my outburst, he grabbed his paint brush, twirling it between his thumb and finger. "...What can I draw?"
Not wanting to hear him whine, I gave him a suggestion. "What about abstract painting?" Just like how I almost told him about the werewolf, his expression went from wondering to confusion. "You never heard of abstract, have you?" All he can do is shake his head. "Can you draw circles?"
"Yeah…" He has no idea where I'm going with this.
"Triangles?"
"Uh huh…"
"Stars?"
"Are you going to tell me what abstract painting is or not?" he asked impatiently. "I swear, if it's a hard thing to draw, I won't do it," he simply refused in no time flat.
"It's not something difficult to create. Abstract painting is shapes and colors," I basically explained, collecting my brush, cleaning it with water along with a rag. "Lots and lots of colors," I also added in. "Bright colors…"
"Bright colors…" he repeated, placing the pristles into another paint jar filled with red paint, despite it being covered in green paint.
"You should clean the brush off first," I advised, trying to be friendly due to the way I am, "before putting the brush hairs in a new set of paint."
Taking my suggestion, he did so, using the water and rag, wiping off the mixed colored paint. "I'm going to use a different brush." Switching the thin one he had, he swapped it for a thicker brush in the shape of a square. "So...abstract painting, right?" He went to me, unsure about the idea.
I gestured my head to his canvas. "Go on ahead," I encouraged, my voice unmastering to match with my mood, sounding dull as hell, like I've woken up from a deep slumber. "I won't judge what you put on there."
This got him all...happy… Right away, he began slapping paint on his canvas, making colorful strokes.
Seeing him in this manner made me feel awful about myself, wishing for the meds to pick up the pace. The pills for schizophrenia are working, but the ones for my manic depression, again, also known as bipolar disorder, is slow going. Plus, my vitems are doing a good deal at keeping me active even though I'm always...boring in some way.
I feel like I won't ever get out of this place, even though it doesn't look like any mental hospital from those movies people have watched. Honestly, I thought the same thing, fearing I would be strapped down, or worse, being forced into a straight jacket.
I wanted to get better fast, wanting to go back to Stine and Hannah. There's nothing to do here except therapy, eat, and sleep, then wake up to do it all over again.
I probably can ask if they have his number so they can call him and pick him up…
No, I should wait until the doctor says I'm well enough to get out of here. Dr. Richard did say some people who come across this place will get better faster than others, while others will be a lot slower.
Setting the paint brush down again, I stared at the canvas, the color purple taking my vision until it was the only color I can see. For some reason, the dream of my god brother came back to me in a flash.
It all seemed realistic. Dreams are dreams; they're not meant to be real. Not meant to come true whatsoever. I would never wish to see the selfish unbiological sibling as long as I live to the day my life ends.
Thinking about it, the first dream of the empty house stuck to me, curious if someone - minus Travis - will live across the street from Stine.
Sighing, I shook the thought out of my head, forcing it to go away. Think positive things, Hazel, I instructed myself with slow, steady breathes. Get rid of any negativity you have floating in the inners of your skull. No need to think about those things you don't want to think about. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts…
Oh, what's the use? Nothing will make me happy. I bet I'll have the same personality for the rest of my miserable life!
"I HATE MYSELF!" I raised my head up to the ceiling, screaming out loud. Well, my sudden exclaim caught everyone's attention, including Dr. Jones who has been praising their work of art. They can only look at me as I slipped downwards on my chair, looking like a complete idiot for shouting out like that. "...look at what you've done," I scolded myself under my breath, liquid emerging from the corner of my eyes. "You have to yell for what you're thinking, huh?"
While I talked to myself, I felt my art therapy's presence lingering behind me. I was too afraid to move to see her, paranoid she'll be mad at me for what I said about myself.
Guilt washed over me as I slowly, very slowly, preparing for what she has to say to me.
"Is everything okay?" Instead of barking at me like Jeff would whenever I get angry, she asked me gently, like I'm a little kid lost in the woods.
Gulping, I grabbed a piece of my hair. "Y-Yeah…" I let go of it. "I'm...fine. I don't know why I said that…" I couldn't say anymore, my voice breaking. "Is it okay for me to go to my room until lunch starts?" I requested. "I want to be alone for a while."
"Sure." She moved her head forward, handing me permission. "Tomorrow, you can finish your painting. Unless you want to." Waiting for my response, I sent her a nod, too sad to say anything. "Alright, I'll take this and set it on my desk," she said, placing her fingers on the canvas. Turning to me, she gestured her other hand. "You may go."
Standing up from my stool, I waved at Leo who gave me a wave back. Then I headed to my room, wanting some time to be by myself until lunch time arrives.
"I want to go home…!" I moaned, burying my face into my pillow, my left arm on the stuffed bear. "I have to admit, this place isn't as bad as I thought it would be, but I do want to go home, wanting Stine to pick me up. Now." I flipped my head to the side, staring at the other bed across from me. "However," I continued to speak, "I have no choice. I have to wait till the people to tell me I'm well enough to get out of here."
Laying down on the cot, the blanket underneath my stomach, I began to think of my real parents. I remember what they look like to a T ever since their death from the car accident. My mom had the same hair color… the same eye color, while my father had a different hair color, along with his eyes. At least, I think that's how they look. You can't blame me, I was four when the car accident happened when I told Hannah this. There are things I'll remember when child - a small child - and there are things I won't remember.
I always felt like my life isn't normal; all dull, all boring, all plain with no fun. Before I left my god family, they'll have trips for themselves. I'll be watching them pack up their suitcases, stuffing clothes, snacks, everything they can put those things with me viewing at the couch.
"Where are you going?" I would ask timidly in hopes Kelly won't snap at me.
She did. "Somewhere far from you!" she'll scowl.
Pain… All I can feel is pain from her hurtful words from her...verbal abuse. Yes, you heard me right, she'll verbally abuse me. I never told Stine nor Hannah about the verbal abuse from my own god mother. Well, she did gave me steam when Travis made me break her vase when he shoved me to the table, screaming in my face.
Of course, when I asked them where they are really going, her husband will use his strap - the leather one - on me, ordering me to shut the hell up with Travis laughing like a hyena, watching me as I scrambled up to my room, tears rolling down my cheeks, one of them being red from the hard whip.
My hope is that I would never run into any of those nasty people. The same goes with Travis, the dreams I had of him a couple nights ago. If the house from across from Stine's is empty, ready for sale, I would be more… Ugh! How can I put in the word 'happy' when I cannot smile?! I blame the people I lived with for taking those positive feelings out of my heart, out of my chest, out of everything!
Placing my face back on my pillow, I screamed in frustration, the item muffling it out for no one to hear it. "I want to be happy!" I cried, punching the mattress with both hands turned into fists.
"Me too." When somebody else agreed, I lifted my head up to see Rosy standing at the doorway. "I don't like to see patients with sadness all around them," she spoke meaningfully, striding into the room, her high heels clicking the floorboard I hadn't noticed until I heard them. "So…" Plopping onto my cot, her eyes twinkled with positivity. "How was your date last night with you-know-who?" She elbowed me playfully, adding a wink, referring to who she meant.
Sitting up and fixing my hair, I bit my bottom lip. "It was...nice. Jackson's been a gentleman all evening. He held out the door for me, letting me go first." A sigh escaped me lips. "Unlike him…" I bitterly muttered in pure disgust.
Unrealizing what I was talking about, she raised her brows high on her forehead. "Him? Who's 'him'?"
Pulling my knees up to my chest, my feet planted on the mattress, I rested my chin on my folded up arms. "The 'him' I'm talking about is my god brother Travis; a complete ass, a complete jerk. He always blames me for everything, getting his dad, who is my god father, to smack me with his…" A shudder ran down my skin, the back of my neck prickling. "...leather strap…"
"Ow…" I don't need to look to see her give out a winced face. "I bet getting that treatment ruined your childhood," she said, placing a hand on my shoulder for me to shake her off of me. "Sorry," she then apologized. "I'm guessing you're still afraid of physical contact, huh."
"I'm working on it," I mumbled, this time my forehead on my arms, staring down. "Jackson gave me advice to start giving handshakes to people I'll greet. Then I'll work my way up to other physical contacts."
"I see… You know, I was beaten when I was younger." This caught my attention, my head snapping to the side.
"You…" I asked, "were beaten when you were little?"
She shook her head. "No, I was about your age; sixteen years old. My dad remarried to an awful woman to become my stepmother because my real mother divorced my father. My dad has full custody of me since my mom's living in Florida, with me only seeing her every summer before school started. We even went to DisneyWorld one time for three weeks for my birthday." Wow...for your birthday… Wish I had a birthday like she had. "Anyways," she went on with her story, "my dad remarried to this lady who seemed to...disinterest me. Whenever I'll try to tell her things we should do together, say like getting a cat because my actual mom has an allergy to felines. My stepmother will snap at me, calling me names I shouldn't hear her say. Her abuse is more verbal than physical all thanks to my wonderful dad who'll use himself as a shield for me, pouring words into her, telling her to back off or else. A year later, he got tired of her lectures and what not, deciding for the best to have another divorce." Brushing her tendrils behind one of her ears, a gleaming expression swept all over her. "My dad has been, and will be, the best dad ever in my life." She shrugged. "Maybe someday you can rekindle your relationship with your god brother and his dad, along with his wife unless he has one, of course."
"He does… But I don't want to do it. Those people have ruined my life, especially Jeff, torturing me during the first year of living with them."
"He needs to learn what he did was wrong."
I rolled my eyes up at the ceiling. "Yeah, right," I jeered in a sarcastic tone. "He'll never feel sorry for what he did, scarring my childhood to the brim of night. He'll come into my room, drag me off the bed, and whip at me while I'm on the floor grunting in pain, forcing myself to hold back the waterworks." Speaking of waterworks, my eyes welled up with water. All I have is a blurry vision invading in front of me as I switched my head down. "...He doesn't care what he does to me…" I choked up. "...Kelly, my god mother, thinks I'm a disgrace…" I sniffed when my nose began to run. "And about Travis...he plain mean. I-I had dreamt about him several times of him living across the street from Stine's house. It felt...real. Too real." I looked at her with tears streaming down my cheeks. "What happens if he does live across the street from Stine? What will I do?" I feared, almost wanting me to grab her by the shoulders.
I didn't though, the fear taking over me. "He's going to make my life miserable!" I lastly cried out, chucking the teddy bear across the room. It made no sound when it hit the wall, sliding to the floor.
Getting up from my bed, Rosy swept over to where the stuffed bear, taking it into her hands. She brushed it like she was getting dirt off of it before going back over to me, holding the cuddly bear out in front of my face.
"You should learn to stand up for yourself," Rosy suggested once I took the toy, grasping it. "Whenever you and Jackson become an item, he's not always going to be there for you all the time, hon. There are going to be times where he wants to be alone from his depression. He may look better, but there are going to be days where he'll have his downtime. Before you came here, he's either in a happy mood or a sad mood depending on what he's thinking. He was sad when Linda broke up with him when he was starting his medication. As his medication increased, he'll be smiling about the good things in life like having his mom while his dad is overseas at the military. I'm not sure if he told you this, but he never gets to see his dad a lot. And when he saw you-" She pointed at me. "-he told me you are the most prettiest girls he ever met after asking for permission for you to go out on your first date. By the way, where do you guys went to?" I can tell she was curious to where we ate last night.
I laid down on the bed on my side, slightly curled up. "We went to a restaurant that serves seafood. It was good," I admitted, remembering last night. "I never had seafood until then."
"I'm glad you liked the food," Rosy responded delightfully when her face saddened a bit. "Unfortunately, I can't have seafood for I am allergic to fish and shellfish."
"Oh…" I felt bad for her, despite the fact that I never have any kind of food allergy. "You know, my mom before she died has an allergy to gluten, forcing her to be on a diet while me and my dad to enjoy the foods she cannot have," I told her, petting the false fur of the stuffed bear. "Guess I'm one of the lucky people not to have an allergy. Stine had terrible allergies when he was younger, keeping him indoors where everybody made fun of him for it, and Champ has an allergy to dust mites, thinking it'll make the author feel better."
"Stine's an author?" she replied, sounding intrigued. "What books did he write?" she asked, the intriguement going up.
Before I answered, I sat up halfway, grabbing one of my books off the dresser top. "The Goosebumps books. See?" I pointed at his name. "R.L. Stine. I don't know what R.L. stands for, but me and my friends back at home call him Stine."
She was about to say something when we both saw Leo coming into the room. "Hey," he waved in a way of greeting.
"Hey there, Leo." Waving back at him, she motioned her hand at me. "Have you met Hazel?"
"Certainly," he nodded. "She's a wonderful girl." Wonderful girl… Nice...I guess. "I met her at group therapy and we both have an interest in Goosebumps books, so it was nice to have someone who likes the same thing as me." He grinned a nice grin.
"Well, you know you two don't have to like the same things, right?" When she brought that up, Leo arched his brow up. Noticing this, she explained on what she meant. "For you two to like the same things, it can get boring. Like I'm not into Goosebumps. I'm more into The Boxcar Children series."
"You mean those kids who were once orphaned when they lost their parents, surviving on their own when they found an old boxcar on an old railroad track, creating it to be their home?" this boy recalled, as if knowing the books, too. "Yeah, one of my cousins read those books. Their mystery books, right?"
"Right," came a nod from her. "Also, do you two play video games?" she asked next.
Both Leo and I answered at the same time.
"Yes."
"No." Leo gave me a stunned look with wide eyes. "What?" I asked, raising my hands up slightly with a shrug of my shoulders. "All I said is no. I'm not into video games. I think video games are stupid," I said, my opionion on them. "I never liked video games. I do like board games, but not video games."
"Huh…" he spoke, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess you're right, Rosy," he now directed to her. "We don't have to like the same things to be friends. We can have different opinions on anything we like or dislike."
"And it won't be difficult," I added to the matter of the conversation. "A lot of my classmates at my old school will think they have to like the same things all the time to become friends while I was the 'odd man out'."
"Odd man out?" After repeating the last three words, he chuckled. "For you, it'll be odd woman out," he joked, laughing a nice laugh.
I'm going to admit it, it was funny in his defense. "Yeah…" I wanted to laugh, except I'm the type of girl who doesn't necessarily laugh. Someday it'll come back to me, curious for me to know what it's like to laugh all over again way before all of this happened when I was a small child. "I'm hungry," I said of all sudden.
"Then you two should get something to eat before you guys to music therapy."
Agreeing with Rosy suggestment, I shook my head up and down, my stomach rumbling. "Let's go, Leo." I got up from my bed, heading to the doorway when I saw him staying at his spot. "Come on, the food will get cold before we even get there," I explained, motioning my hand for him to follow me.
"...they might have peanut oil…" he said, almost mumbling, refusing to leave his spot. "I'm extremely allergic to every peanut type. I don't want to have an allergic reaction."
"You'll be fine. They don't have peanut oil for the food." Honestly, I cannot be sure about this. I don't want him to have an allergic reaction since I don't know what to do for that kind of situation.
Getting all hesitated, he backed up one step behind him. "I don't know… You don't sound…
"Confident?" I completed. "To tell you the truth, I'm unaware if they use peanut oil or not."
"Still, they could have it…" It seemed like he's afraid to eat the food here, possibly of how good it is all thanks to the people who cook it.
No idea what to do, I sent Rosy a helpful expression, hoping she'll ease him. She caught this, walking up to him.
"Leo, I promise you that the food is made with zero percent peanut oil," she assured him.
Hearing her say this calmed him down, but the nervousness held onto him. "Okay, I'll go eat. Luckily, I packed my epi-pen in case of an emergency." He patted the pocket of his pants. "I keep it accessible at all times," he told us, smiling.
"Smart." Getting Rosy's praise, he smile grew wider. "Have you used it before?"
"Once," he responded. "I was only ten when my aunt made two types of cookies - chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies with actual peanuts added into them. The peanut butter cookies have real peanuts in them, not in the chocolate chip cookie ones. Anyway, I guess the peanuts got into a cross tamentation-"
"Cross tamentation?" I interrupted.
"It means the peanuts accidently got mixed in with the chocolate chip cookies," he simply explained with no hint of annoyance. "The peanuts got into a cross tamentation, getting into the chocolate chip cookies," he continued. "When I took a chomp on a chocolate chip cookie, I realized something wasn't right - wrong to be exact. I ended up having…"
Knowing what he was going to say, I said it for him for some help in case he was afraid to let it out. "An allergic reaction?"
"Yes! Exactly! Mom gave me my medicine while my dad called an ambulance."
"An ambulance? Your mom gave you the stuff to make you feel better."
"Even when I do feel better, I still have to go to hospital for the doctors to check on me."
"Ohh." His answer did make sense when I think about it. "Can you use it on your own?" I questioned rather curiously.
"Yep," he popped, making the letter P sound with his lips. "We better get going; my stomach is starving." He headed out the door.
Watching him go, I trailed behind him, heading to the cafe area.
We stood in the middle at the line, waiting to get our lunch. I waited patiently unlike Leo who is walking in place, seemingly like he's having a difficult time waiting to get our food. I turned to him. "Don't worry, we'll get something to eat."
"I know. I'm having flashbacks during my early years of school where all the food will be gone," he answered, his shoes tapping the floor.
"What do you mean?" It sounded ridiculous for food to be out when the school can feed over a hundred kids without being all out of it.
"It isn't a normal school cafeteria where lunch ladies put food on the trays for ya. They make the food, put it on a buffet display for the kids to choose what they want. Sadly, people don't respect me, taking piles of food, leaving me with nothing." Nothing? "They won't even share their food, either!" he proclaimed in disgust. Boy, those people have been disrespectful… "I'll have no choice but to wait until I get home to eat from all the hunger I'll be having. Days later, I told mom and dad what happened during lunch hour. They're ticked off of what I told them, about everyone not saving leftovers for me, and ended up packing lunch for me."
The lined moved up so we moved as well. "I had a similar problem where my mean classmates will take my snacks," I said, knowing what it's like.
"Did you tell your god parents?" he asked.
"No," I shook my head from side to side. "They wouldn't care, anyway. When we get our meal, I'll tell you what they've done to me like I had promised during our group therapy." The line moved up again with us doing the same thing. "It's a sad story," I warned him right away. "Unpleasant," I put in. "I wanna prepare you so you won't...get too upset."
"Thanks… For the warning." We moved up enough to grab our trays, making our way to the food is at. "Yes!" he declared, witnessing at what's in front of us. "Grilled cheese sandwiches!"
"Don't forget the tomato soup," one the ladies who made the food reminded, gesturing at the bowls. "They're nice and hot, be careful," she cautioned.
We helped ourselves with the sandwiches and soup. "We will." She smiled when we promised her in the fact that my voice wasn't close to glee like my new roommate.
With food on our trays, along with each a drink for us - apple juice and soda - I took him to the table I usually sit at where the window is.
We set our trays down on the table. Leo plopped down on his seat before I did, cracking up the soda can lid. I can hear the soda fizzing inside there as he tilted the can to his lips. "Yum. My favorite." He set the can down. "I love mountain dew." He picked up one of sandwiches, preparing to eat when he gave me a reminder. "About your god parents…"
I've been chewing on one of my half sandwiches, swallowing it down, clearing my throat. "To make sure it isn't too long, I'll give the short version." I ripped another piece of my sandwich, the melted cheese touching my taste buds of my tongue, mixing in with the toasted up bread. "Jeff beat me, Kelly screamed at me, and Travis made sure my life is hell," I brefiated, swallowing my second bite.
"Those are their names?" In order to reply, I had to nod for taking a third bite, for he shall not see chewed up food in my mouth. "They sound awful. They shouldn't treat you in such a way," he spoke seriously, spooning up his soup. He placed the spoon between his lips, slurping it in with no sound. "You should tell the cops about this."
"I would…" Setting my eaten sandwich next to the other one, I sighed. "...but I can't. The cops in Madison are retarted." I saw a disbelief expression, becoming angry about his reaction. "It's true!" I protested, snatching my apple juice which is inside the small, rectangular box. "I was taking a walk at night when I saw two police - a male and female - outside of Stine's house. Zach and his mom were also there. Zach is Hannah's boyfriend. Before he was, he said to his mom that he heard screaming from his now girlfriend before they became an item. His mom doesn't want to hear it, ordering him to go home." Tearing the straw wrapped in clear plastic, I ripped it off, jamming it into the tiny hole of the juice box, continuing. "It was clear as day, or should I say, night, for the damn police didn't look for evidence to see if Hannah's okay. From her scream, it sounded like she was being abused by her own father when I became wrong on what she informed me. You may be living in a different part of Delaware than me; it doesn't mean you can't believe me." Putting the straw in my mouth, I took a long sip. "The cops are idiots." I helped myself to another sip, refusing to look at the newbie.
When I finally did, his expression hasn't changed. "What makes you think they're idiots?" Great! He thinks I made up a story. "You certainly made the next story up." See? See what I mean!? Why I oughta… "Cops do check for evidence, they never ditch it," he said. "They aren't dumb."
"They are too dumb!" I fumed, grabbing my other half of the sandwich, squeezing it for the melted cheese to ooze out between the roasted bread, all over my fingers.
"Sure, sure. The cops certainly aren't dumb. I believe you. It was at night when it happened, I assume," he implied, the disbelief growing within him.
"Hey! You better stop it!" I demanded, releasing the squished up sandwich. "I'm starting to like you as a friend…"
"Why?" he argued.
"Because it's true! The cops where I live are asses!"
"You swore!"
"Whatever! It's not like you aren't afraid to curse!"
"I don't say bad words for it's wrong!"
"Whatever! What I'm telling you is what happened. The cops-" I gave up, shoving my tray away, slamming my forehead down on the table top, creating a loud bang sound. A big mistake I made. "Ow!" Letting out a howl of pain, I grasp my forehead, shooting back up, rubbing the area.
Removing my hand, a startled cry was next to come out. What I saw scared me.
On my hand there was blood smeared across my palm. I knew what had happened.
My stitches came apart.