I was devastated when I called home and they didn't pick up. Someone should have been home. Maybe they were out working. Or maybe they were. . . No! I wouldn't let myself think about that.
On Monday, I had to start school. I hated it. The teachers were mean, and everyone ignored me. Well, I ignored them, too. I guess I got what I deserved.
I did my school work, but not well. When we were told to write an essay about a bad time in our lives, I laughed humorlessly. What bad thing hadn't happened to me? My two best friends are dead, my parents are dead, and my brothers won't come see me. Which to choose?
The third week came and went fast. I was glad. I think it was the school. I did all my work, but I got Cs and Ds on everything. I didn't care. This wasn't my school. Besides, what importance did school hold when I was away from my friends and family? Getting back to them was the only thing on my mind.
When Mrs. McCool came back to see me, I asked her if Darry or Soda had said anything to her about me. She said they didn't, and what was left of my heart broke.
I was beyond crying by now. I decided to play ignorant. If they didn't care about me, I didn't care about them. It didn't work though. I still didn't cry, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't hate my brothers. It's hard when the people you can't help but love hate you.
I still didn't eat much. By now, I'd eat about a meal a week. Sometimes I'd eat more, but I just didn't have an appetite. It showed on my face, where my cheeks were sunken in. It didn't bother me, though. Maybe it'd scare all the people so they'd stop bothering me.
After the second week, I stopped sleeping, too. The first two weeks seemed easy, because I was able to sleep a lot. Now, I was an insomniac. I never slept, just thought about my brothers, and how badly I wanted them. I never knew how much being away from them could hurt. When I was with Johnny in Windrixville for five days, I felt a lot of homesickness, but it was nothing compared to this. This was pure torture.
Why hadn't they come to get me, yet? It's been three weeks. They haven't visited, they hadn't called. It was as though they didn't care about me anymore.
That thought alone haunted my days and nights. I didn't know what I'd do if they stopped caring. It was bad enough I had to be away from them, but to have no one to love me would kill me. If it didn't, I would. I'd never want to live in a world where I was unloved.
I walked through the days in solitude. No one bothered with me anymore. Some people would stare, but that was about it. Mrs. McCool would make me eat every time she stopped by, but she was the only one who paid me any attention. It was as though I was a ghost, and no one could see me. I was alone in the world, and it hurt.