Chapter Three: A Stroke Out of Line
I would like to say the day got better from there. That the meeting with the Principal went smoothly, that all my classes that day went well, and there were no more panic attacks to worry about.
Unfortunately, this is not the case.
History went just about as well as it usually does, and even English class went pretty smoothly.
Then lunch rolled around. I always try to get in and out as fast as possible. Sitting at a table alone never sounded appealing, and trying to sit at a table with someone else seemed far too awkward.
This time however, before I could leave, music started playing over the speakers and some idiot decided to stand up on a table, and start belting in a terrible French accent.
Be... Our... Guest!
The kid seemed very in his element. I'd almost admire him for the confidence, but before I knew it, the spectacle had started. A bunch of different kids at different tables started singing along. The corner of the room cleared as the initial idiot jumped off the table and to said corner. Behind him, it seemed like an entire dance was choreographed. Everyone behind him started doing flips, spins, and managed to smile the entire time. As if it was all completely natural to them.
Right as I was deciding whether I should leave, or stay and watch the madness, the music stopped. The kids in the back gracefully stopped their dance... But not everyone could be that flexible. Our Lumière looked furious.
The Principal walked in and made his way through the crowds. "Roman Prince! To my office, now."
Roman stamped his foot like a toddler. "Such frivolous things like funds will never keep the art of theatre from us! The children are deprived you fool!"
The Principal shook his head. "Save the dramatics, please." He looked around and announced. "Everyone, please continue your lunch. Classes will start back up again in fifteen minutes! Roman," he continued quieter. "Follow me now if you don't want to be late for class."
That was just what I needed, someone to piss the principal off before I even got to talk to him. I wasn't hungry anymore, so I just went to make sure I had everything I needed for chemistry, seeing as the last thing I wanted was to miss another one of Mr. Robot's classes.
Just as I had expected, Mr. Robot continued his class like I had never missed a thing. It contradicted my fears of him singling me out from the rest of the class, but I assumed he really didn't care whether I was there or not, he just didn't want my grades to reflect badly on his class.
Fortunately, class was over before I could ruminate on those thoughts too long, so I left quietly, with quite a few mental notes on how to catch up so I don't have to endure another talk.
Visiting the principal's office was not something I necessarily wanted to do, but it was never my intention to miss it... Ew, I'm starting to sound like my teacher. That's the kind of stuff I'll get made fun of for, you know, if people actually talked to me.
Anyway, I was headed towards to principal's office when the one and only Roman Prince left it. I was caught off guard, and I'm still trying to understand how he managed to stay in there for more than an hour, but he had the smuggest grin and was clearly celebrating. He was practically jumping up and down with excitement, and when he locked eyes with me his smile only got bigger.
"You were at lunch today, weren't you?" he asked.
"Uhhh," God, I'm so good with words.
"I will go down in history!" he exclaimed, and grabbed my wrist. Looking back I think he was trying to spin me or something, but whatever he expected, I didn't deliver.
My heart dropped, and panic started welling in my stomach once more. I pulled away pretty violently, and Roman wasn't happy. "Well, if you didn't want to celebrate you could've just said you were, like, a math kid or something."
Words wouldn't quite come out, and a witty response was quickly overshadowed by waves of anxiety. The waves hit the sides of my head like hammers. Roman said something else before walking away, but I could barely hear anything. All I knew was that I shouldn't be here. Anywhere but here.
I ended up darting to the nearest classroom. And when I opened the door, the waves suddenly went quiet. I wasn't thinking straight at the time, and maybe there were tears in my eyes and I just didn't notice, but the room almost... glittered. Looking around I saw a man with a blue shirt on and glasses. He looked nice enough; he had a warm smile and was laughing like he had just made the funniest joke he'd ever heard.
Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one in the room. There was also almost an entire class of kids... and now they were staring at me.
Before the panic could start up again, the man –who I assume was the teacher- started talking to me.
"Hey kiddo, welcome to art class." He started a bit quietly. "Would you mind taking a seat next to Talyn over there?" he asked, gesturing in their direction.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Then I sat in the empty seat next to Talyn, who waved at me with a small smile.
"Now, I have a project for all of you, and we're going to try and get it done by the end of this month. I want you all to make an art piece that captures you. You as a unique individual, a beautiful human being with amazing talents and potential. This piece can be a self portrait, a landscape, anything really, as long as you feel it represents you. Have fun, and play to your strengths so I know what we need to work on." He smiled. "I'm so excited to get to know you all." He looked around the entire room, making eye contact with each student. When he met my gaze he stopped, his eyes held an emotion I couldn't explain, almost like pity, but warmer somehow. I looked away, and I heard him continue his class.
"Before starting any painting, it's important to draw and sketch, and make basic outlines. You don't have to figure out what your design is going to be now, but consider this an hour to let your creativity go wild. Use your brilliant minds and brainstorm for now. Don't be afraid to talk to classmates either! Understanding different perspectives and points of view is one of the best things about art in general."
And with that, the room buzzed with excitement. The kid next to me –Talyn, I think- turned to me. "I'm Talyn, they/them pronouns. You?"
I stared back. "I, umm," I tried to subtly take a breath, like a big enough one to calm me down, but not obvious enough to make me look like a weirdo. "I-I'm Virgil... He/Him... sorry."
They raised their eyebrow. "Why are you sorry?"
Damn it. "I don't know, I'm sorry, I'm really awkward." I cursed myself; there was literally nothing more stiff and awkward that I could've said.
Luckily though, Talyn laughed. "That's okay; I think everyone is awkward at some point or another, so it's really nothing to worry about. What are you planning on drawing?"
With that, I tried to relax a little bit. "I'm not sure. What about you?"
"I don't know either." They admitted. "I have, like, three different ideas, but I can't get a clear enough picture of any of them to actually decide."
"I think that's what the sketch is for." I suggested. "Just to get ideas out onto paper and decide if it's worth going forward."
"Ahhh, fair point." They said, pointing their finger in the air. "Guess I should get started then." And they grabbed a pencil off the table we shared and started sketching.
I kind of wanted to just watch them draw, but I figured that might be seen as creepy, so I grabbed a pencil too and grabbed a sketch pad as well.
I wasn't sure what I was drawing. Something to represent me I guess? Suddenly, I had an idea, so I put pencil to paper and started on it.
I got about halfway through with a very rough sketch before I heard a voice over the speakers.
"Can Virgil Storm please report to the Principal's office? Immediately, thank you."
Just like that, the waves were back. Talyn looked at me with wide eyes and all I could do was avoid eye contact. I should have just left when I first barged into this class, now when I get up to leave everyone is going to know.
Well done, Virgil! You went from no one knowing who you are to everyone's first time noticing you being the time you got in huge trouble with the principal, I was probably going to be sent home early that day, my parents would be so upset with me. I could already hear the yelling back and forth. Words scraped the sides of my brain, and I heard glass shattering in the background right before I saw someone snapping their red stained fingers right in front of my face.
I focused on the world around me and saw a boy I vaguely recognized looking at me. "Virgil, you gotta go see the principal." He had a streak of murky grey in his brown hair, bright green eyes, and his whole hand was covered in blood red paint.
I guess I waited too long to reply, so he grinned at me. "Trust me; no one wants to see me beg you."
I once again had no clue what to say, so I just nodded and stood up to leave. I could feel their eyes on me as I left, and I tried to suck the tears back like that police officer from 'Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs'.
I opened the door to the office, and I saw the principal sitting on the other side of a desk. He gestured to the seat closest to me, and I sat down.
"Mr. Storm... can I call you Virgil? It's too cool a name not to say." I didn't answer. "Well, I guess we're getting off track. Virgil, It's very nice to meet you officially, my name is Thomas Sanders." He reached his arm over the desk and towards me, clearly expecting me to take it, so I did. "You can call me Mr. Thomas; don't worry about the principal nonsense. All that really means is that It's my job to make sure all of the students here are happy and healthy. I don't want you to be intimidated or feel like you can't talk to me if you need anything, my door is always open, and I'm here to help."
I nodded and tried to smile. "Thank you."
He smiled back. "I've heard that you're having a bit of a hard time with school recently. Now, this isn't an interrogation, but do you know why that is?"
"Um, I'm not sure." I said. Looking back I guess I knew, but I wasn't sure how to explain it. It's not like I was going to admit to this total stranger - with a lot of power over my life - that anything and everything felt like being tasked to be the youngest Olympian and that failure would result in death.
"Well, from what I've heard from your teachers, you seem like a good, smart kid. But I've gotten reports of being late to classes, missing classes all together, and when faced with tests or decisions you seem to panic a bit, leading to test results to be all over the place. Now, since no one knows you better than yourself, what do you think of all that? Is it accurate to your situation?"
Despite my outdated movie reference, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. "Y-yes, yes sir. That's all true." I said, mentally leaving the 'good' and 'smart' out of my confirmation.
"Have you every considered that maybe you have Generalized Anxiety Disorder?" he suggested.
I stopped, not knowing exactly where the conversation was going. Of course I had considered it, I had been considering something along that line since I realized that the overwhelming feelings of nausea and fear was in fact, anxiety. It was hard to believe that the day in and day out want to run away was normal. Unless the rest of the world was just really good at acting.
"I'm not a therapist; I'm not a professional by any means. But I've noticed that you do your best to avoid stressful situations, which to me says that the stress of school is a bit too much, and that's the way you've found to deal with it. This is completely valid! It's natural to want to get away from upsetting things."
I think that's the moment I realized I wasn't being judged. Mr. Thomas just genuinely wanted to help. It had been so long since I'd actually gotten any sort of support or validation; it was a bit off-putting to be honest. There was a knot in my throat, keeping any words from getting out.
"So you can get the leg up you deserve, tomorrow, I'm calling a meeting with both you and one of your parents." He said, and my heart dropped. The anxiety was back full force. "We're going to discuss some things that might help you get a better grip on things. Whether it's a tutor to help you out so you're more confident in yourself and your work, or I even have a therapist I could recommend to get you some anxiety medication. If, and only if both you and your parents are comfortable with that."
He stopped for a second just to take in my reaction to what he had said. "Hey," He said. "I'm really glad you came and we could hang out for a bit. I'm going to let you go home early if you want. It's up to you. And I'll be giving your parents a call tomorrow morning."
I nodded again. "Thank you sir." Was all I said before I left.
This was not going to end well.
