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Jeez, you're shaking...

.:. insert picture of Adam sitting on the toilet stall floor, his back and head
leaned back against the wall of the stall, his eyes closed .:.

Adam:

I don't know how long I have been sitting here. It seems like it takes all the energy I have left to breathe in and breathe out, breathe in and breathe out. I try not to think about Jane, but it's all I can think about. I'm beyond tears. There's only misery now. Gut-wrenching misery that is winding its tentacles around me, squeezing ever harder, not letting me escape from its throes. I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes. Breathe in and breathe out.

Grace:

I see Girardi leaving the classroom. Her face is smeared with tears, her expression somewhere between angry, hurt and confused. For a second I consider going after her, but I think about Rove. Somehow I have the feeling he needs my support more than Girardi does. I let her go, deciding I will see her at her house later.

I look at Luke, who is standing next to me, a stupid, unknowing look on his face, like a deer looking in confusion at the approaching car. I can see the questions written boldly on his face, like an animated website banner blinking on and off to fight for your attention. I explain to him in so many words that Rove cheated on his sister.

His face falls, I can see that he's angry at Rove for hurting his big sister. I can see him silently clenching his fists, his jaw. He makes a move to enter the classroom Rove is still in, I know what's on his mind. Fist-fighting Rove now seems just wrong, so I grab Luke's arm, hold him back.

I shake my head at him and tell him, 'Don't. Not now.' He looks at me incredulously, as if wanting to ask why. I nudge him to go follow his sister and ask him to make sure she's all right. With somewhat of an understanding glance, he does what he's told. I watch him walking down the hallway in that determined, almost hurried step that he has. Science geek or not, I can't help admire his loyalty and wonder about my own.

My words from Rove's earlier confession to me come popping back into my head. 'Thanks for putting me in the middle of this, I've missed this in my life.' Sometimes it sucks to be me. No, a lot of the time it sucks to be me. Right now more than ever.

For a second I consider going into the classroom, but I should give him a bit more space. As I'm still pondering this, he comes storming out, making for the nearest men's room. I tentatively follow him but stop in front of the now closed door. I hear the retching sounds reverberating in the tiled and cold room. A soul-deep sigh escapes my lips.

After a few minutes I glance at the sign with the stylized male person next to the door and consider for a moment that I'm entering off-limits territory. But my hesitation only lasts a split-second. I open the door and step in, surveying the situation, trying to judge if my intrusion will be accepted or not. I am prepared for a barrage of harsh words, for a volley of leave-me-alones or go-aways. But they're not coming.

My eyes scan the stalls, I quickly find him sitting on the floor of the middle one, his back and head against the wall, his eyes closed. The expression on his face almost makes me wanna puke as well, but I rapidly swallow and control the urge. I address him by his name, his first name, the one I rarely use. My voice sounds soft, sympathetic. It surprises myself just how much so, it seems kinda wrong, like it doesn't belong to me.

I study his face, but it's like he hasn't even registered my presence. I wonder if he's too spaced out to notice or if he chooses to ignore me, like I'm an overzealous puppy that will go away if it's ignored long enough.

I move closer to him, unsure how to react. I'm not good at this, I'm like the anti-person when it comes to delicate touchy-feely stuff like this. I crouch down next to him, saying his name again, this time in a more urgent voice. He turns his head away from me just slightly, a gesture that tells me that he's at least acknowledging my presence, but not welcoming it. Yeah, big surprise there.

I touch his shoulder, carefully, like a mother waking up her child without wanting to frighten it. I am surprised and rattled at what my hand feels. 'Jeez, you're shaking,' I hear myself say. Like an automatic reflex reaction, I take him by the upper arms and tug at him to get up. 'Come on, let's get you outta here,' I mutter.

Adam:

I hear Grace's voice calling my name. But I don't care. She calls my name again. I try to ignore her, try to drown out anything bothering me from beyond that place that I have been retreating to inside my head.

But she won't be kept from intruding into my own little world by my ignoring her presence. I feel her hands taking hold of my arms. 'Jeez, you're shaking!' Am I? Now that she says it, I can feel the cold floor tiles beneath me and the cool draft of air wafting in through the open window.

I let her pull me up. It's like I have no free will anymore, all I can manage is to obey her commands. She tells me to get cleaned up. So I walk over to the sink and half-heartedly rinse my mouth and face. Grace flushes the toilet behind me. I feel like a 3-year-old all over again, like a helpless toddler in need of assistance for even the simplest tasks.

But somehow I'm glad she's here, because otherwise I would not have been able to gather the strength to get myself off the floor. I dare catch a glimpse at my reflection in the mirror. A haunted face with bloodshot eyes is looking back at me. A face I suddenly feel strong revulsion against. I pull the hood of my burgundy hoody over my head, trying to hide underneath the soft fabric of my cotton shelter, lulled by the false sense of security that it can keep everything and everyone as far away from me as possible.

I leave the men's room, Grace trailing close behind. In silence we walk along the now empty school hallways. I try not to be reminded of Jane as we walk past the classroom doors and the lockers. Everything seems to scream her name at me, so I give my best to stare ahead, my hood acting like blinkers on a horse's harness.