I realized that I forgot to say something before posting my story, sorry about that, I know how much you cherish my commentary (not). Well, I'm real glad you like my story---at least I hope you like it---and I will try to update the next chapter as soon as I can.
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Run run run. Hit boy. Run run run. I skid into class. Mr. Borcowitz's sensors go crazy as they discern my presence and he fixes his laser eyes on me.
"You are aware that you are late for class, are you not miss Simon?" he asks, completely aware, I'm sure, of the other students just filing into class after me. They scurry off and hastily find a seat, afraid that Mr. Borcowitz will pounce on them next, while I fall prey to his scrutiny.
"Yes, about that---" I start, about to tell of how I had to go to the hospital.
"When a student is tardy, they create a disruption which impacts their entire class," he cuts in while I roll my eyes. More students march into class. "That student takes away valuable time from their fellow pupils, time that they had paid great money to secure," he continues, a boy walks in. Then follows a long lecture about how I should now be old enough to keep my priorities straight and be more responsible, and, hear this, he told me that, as a punishment, I was to help organize some school papers and feed the campus fish for a week. Yes, we have fish. Isn't that so grade school? I mean the part about him giving out punishments, not us having fish and all.
I take a seat, fuming. Mr. Borcowitz begins class.
"Now, if you completed Monday's homework you should be able to tell me the five stages a person goes through when someone close to them has died. Miss Simon, will you do us the honor?" he asks. I look up. What did he ask? I glance around, hoping a hint will fly by.
Something about five stages, stages at a theatre? No, this is sociology. It has to do with people. Five stages of people? That can't be right. Did he mention someone dying? Yeah…the stages someone goes through…stages they go through…something with death…the stages someone goes through when someone they are, um, close to, yeah that was the word, close to has died…yeah… that was it…. hmm…that kind of rings a bell…I think I read about it…that time when I had nothing else to do…
"Miss Simon?" Mr. Borcowitz says, making me jump.
"Uh, the five stages are---" I begin.
"In order, please," Mr. B. adds.
"Uh…the initial feeling is denial, then…one would feel…anger, yeah," I say excitedly as it comes to me, "…then, uh, guilt…next is…depressed…I mean depression, and, lastly, um…acceptance of death," I sound off smugly. Mr. Borcowitz, whose eyebrows lift up about two inches above his head, looks like he could really use Tylenol.
"Um, yes, that is true," he says hoarsely. After clearing his throat he repeats all I've just mentioned while adding some more detail. I smile inwardly. Happiness spreads through me like butter on warm toast.
That definitely shut him up. He didn't dare ask me any more questions for the rest of the class.
Criminology: last class of the day, and, the one class where I have not yet met my teacher. But, after I saw him I wish I never had. Met him that is. His name is Mr. Bright, and, bright he is. He's so goddamn cheery it's revolting.
"Hello!" Mr. Bright says as I enter class, all smiles.
"Um…hi," I reply, momentarily paralyzed, and then I cautiously back away while hastily looking for a free seat. I take one that's way in the back so I wouldn't have to look at him.
"Hello class!" he begins in a tone that's almost clown-like---he doesn't need a microphone---all he really requires to complement his cheery clown-like self is one of those big red noses clowns are always seen wearing. All the students look petrified. One girl even started crying, although it might have been because her boyfriend just broke up with her, well, from what I could tell.
"The course, as you know, is called criminology, which really is just a fancy term for the study of crime, criminals, and criminal behavior," Mr. Bright continues, his smile widening as he looks around. The students up at the front look like they want to run for their lives. "I promise that this course will be incredibly exciting, especially since this topic is one that interests many people," he continues. Well, not anymore it doesn't.
For the next hour and a half he went on to describe why it is that people resort to criminal behavior and briefly introduced us to criminal law. When class ended every one of the two hundred students dashed out of class like frightened deer. Since I was at the very back I had to wait for everyone to leave first, so, guess who was left behind? Alone? With Mr. Bright? Oh, it's not hard. Go on. Guess. Yep, that's right. Me.
"Hey!" Mr. Bright exclaims right before I manage to sneak out the door. Damn. I turn around apprehensively and smile, hoping he'll leave me alone. Oh, no. It's nothing like that. Who would ever want to leave me alone? That kind of thing just doesn't happen. I'm just a giant walking glue stick. "Would you like to volunteer for the Cancer Awareness Parade?" he asks merrily, holding out a pamphlet.
"Um…sure," I grab the pamphlet, if only for the sole reason of trying to get him to stop talking to me, and run.
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Thursday. Bad day. Exceptionally bad day. I stuff the pillow over my face. I have a few options, like…I could kill myself, that's a pretty good reason explaining why I can't go to my classes. Yes, you heard that right. Classes. Three. My little trio. English, criminology, and psychology. God hates me. He's punishing me for being a bad mediator.
I open my eyes. They hurt. I went to sleep late. Oh, and guess why. This is good, I promise.
I was doing my homework. Ok, you can stop laughing now. I didn't do it on purpose, it just kind of happened. I swear I won't do it again.
It's ten thirty. I have class in thirty minutes. Must…Get…Up. I drag myself to the edge of the bed, and, because my body is not properly proportioned, with one side being heavier than the other, I topple over, landing on the floor. I get up, still groggy, and go wash up. I put on my brown Guess top and my brand new Aristzia jeans to match. I straighten my hair, put makeup on, look in the mirror, inspect my appearance, feel satisfied, then head off for my first class: English.
So, as I'm strolling along in the hall, expecting this to be another ordinary day, where ordinary things happen, I see, of all people, the guy who threw me out of the hospital the other day walking towards me. I stop. Seriously consider turning around and going back. Then I think, no, I have to stand tall, be confident, show him who's boss. I mean, who does he think he is? Throwing me out the way he did, and anyway, I'd be late for class. So, I resume my walking, exuding confidence as I go. That is until he looks my way.
My body keeps moving; leg follows leg, hip continues to sway, even though my mind has undergone paralysis. So much for confidence, eh?
He's looking straight at me. All I can do is fixedly stare back. You can tell that he recognizes me, but, don't get the impression that he was at all pleased to see me, I know, shocking. First, he just looks kind of shocked, but then his face adopts the expression like he's examining me, as if I'm some kind of exotic species he's never seen before. We pass each other.
A teacher opens a door and, in my stupor, I slam right into it. I can be so classy sometimes, and, yes, I did get a bruise.
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Someone was knocking on the door. The dorm door. Ours. Mine and Dana's. That's a bit surprising. I walk up to the door, aggravated since I was made to get up from the couch, wondering who it might be. It was a bit strange, you know? It can't be Dana, she has a key, and we don't get any visitors.
I open the door. It's that kid. Oh, you know, the one pretending to be a doctor, who I saw earlier today.
"Um," I say, "Dana's not here," and hastily move to close the door, but, he's quicker than I am and manages to hold it open, depriving it of its frame.
"Actually, I'm looking for you. Uh…Susannah, right?" he asks. How does he know my name? What is he like stalking me now or something? I throw open the door, getting ready to interrogate him, but I guess I took him by surprise since he fell forwards, only to be caught by, well, me.
As he's leaning against me I can feel the hard muscles of his chest, his face so close to mine that I notice the brown encircling his pupils. I let go of him abruptly. He looks at me for a second, deep in though, and then goes out into the hall. I follow him, my heart running a marathon, and close the door behind me.
Before I have a chance to say anything though, he says, "you left your card at the hospital," while taking it out of his pocket and directing it towards me.
"Oh," I say, "thanks." I take it from his outstretched hand, which, I don't fail to notice, is way bigger than mine. So, he just came here to give me back my card. That's very nice of him. This also explains how he knew my name. Well, since he's done all he came to do I guess I'm free to get back to my dorm. I was about to set off---say my goodbye---when his voice stopped me.
"I'm Jesse by the way," he says, holding out his hand. It waits to be shaken, but, when it doesn't detect the presence of my hand, it falls back down, a bit disappointed. The owner sighs.
"I was wondering…" he begins. What now? I look up at him. Not at his face, but at a spot just above his chest.
When he doesn't answer I urge him on with an impatient, "Yeah?" I do have to get going.
"Why were you there?"
"Where?" I ask, talking to his neck. I knew perfectly well where, but I had to appear incredibly dense and angel innocent, that way he wouldn't suspect me of doing anything that he thinks I might have done, or, uh, wanted to do, I guess. Better to be extra safe, you never know.
"At the hospital," he finishes. A long and painful journey has come to its inevitable conclusion. The hospital…hmm…that's a big surprise. Not. What does he think I'm going to say? Oh, I just wanted to look at some private files so I could help the ghost of some girl put the guy who killed her in jail. Yeah, right. Anyway, it's none of his business. If anybody suspected me of doing anything that I obviously haven't had the opportunity to do, it would then definitely involve bigger people. You know, someone important, like the head of the police department. No one would have sent novice here to investigate, that's for sure.
"Um…I was ill, what do you think?" I ask defensively, crossing my arms over my chest. And anyway, it's not like I killed anyone or anything. Not yet, anyway.
"So…you were just strolling around the hospital to make yourself feel better, right?" he asks, in a somewhat suspicious tone.
Who does he think he is? Sherlock Holmes?
Click click click go his shoes as he walks closer to me. I look up at his face. He makes me feel really uncomfortable, like a trapped fly that is about to be eaten by the ever-approaching spider. What would he do to me if I said no?
"Um…. exactly," I reply, hoping that that would convince him.
"Then why were you looking for the exit?" he asks inquiringly, coming still closer. Tall him was now towering over minuscule me. But, don't get the impression that I was in any way afraid of him though, because I wasn't.
"Well…I was feeling better and…um… I didn't want to bother the doctors, them being so busy and all so…I decided to just let myself out," I reply. Ok, that is it, that's about all the questions I'm willing to except from this guy. I mean seriously, the nerve of him, barging into my dorm uninvited and then harassing me like this.
"I see," he says, taking a few steps back. Good, let him see, I'm done. Using the opportunity he so literally left me with when he backed away, I head off back to my dorm, and, am already grasping the doorknob when I hear him say:
"Also…"
Won't he ever leave? He's such a parasite.
"One of our secretaries says that she…um…misplaced her card, she says she had it right up until you came, you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" he asks me.
My tongue seems to have gone on vacation because I can't seem to answer for a while. Meanwhile, my mind is working full force.
He knows. He knows I have it. The card went missing at about the same time I arrived at the hospital, and, he saw me hanging around the office door, a place I can only access if I possess the special card. He just put the two together, though he obviously doesn't know what in particular I needed to find in that office.
"Um, no," I finally say. "Why would I?"
"All right then," he says, and, giving me a very grave look, says, "have a good day."
I stare after him as he walks off in the opposite direction. He definitely knows something. I must keep an eye on him, even though I don't much fancy seeing him again. Not that he's hideous, quite the contrary if you don't mind me saying so, he's just intensely frightening, in a horror-movie kind of way. I open the door, and, with that thought, shut it behind me, glad that nobody else stands in the way of it closing.