Hi everyone! This could be triggering. If you need to talk message me. And please, please, please, please, please leave (kind) reviews. To the reviewer named Melanie... Who's writing this story, you or me? LOL! I like your idea but it wasn't the direction I was going in. But… SPOILER ALERT… Patricia is going to relapse at least once during her recovery. It would be unrealistic if she didn't. So stay tuned for that.
I don't own House of Anubis.
The next day when we go downstairs for breakfast Joy isn't there.
"Where's Joy?" I ask Eddie.
"Oh," he says, "I told Trudy about what she said to you and they moved her to another house."
"Oh," I say, unsure how I feel about that.
"Everyone just wants to make sure you're safe and happy Patricia," he says.
"How can they do that without give me special treatment?" I ask.
"They're not giving you special treatment," he tells me, "They're making sure that you're in an environment where you can be safe, happy, and successful. Which is the same thing they do for all of us, they just need to do little more for you right now."
"I guess," I say.
We go to our classes next and in the middle of our last class the entire school is called to the theater for an announcement. "What does your dad want now?" I ask as I sit down next to Eddie.
"Don't worry," he says, "It has nothing to do with you."
"Attention students," Mr. Sweet says, "We are happy to announce that we will be taking a school trip in a two weeks. We will be going to a waterpark."
He goes over the details of the trip but I can't focus on them. All I can think is that waterpark means bathing suits. And bathing suits mean people seeing my scars.
When we get back to Anubis House I go upstairs and Eddie follows me. He is going on and on about how excited his is for the trip. "Don't you think it sounds fun?" He asks.
"Not really," I say.
"Well why not?" He asks.
"Why not?" I ask, "Why do you think not? My body is covered in scars you idiot!"
"Oh," he says awkwardly, "I didn't think of that."
"It's okay," I say, "You haven't seen them."
"How bad are they?" He asks, "Maybe no one will notice."
I sigh and take off my sweater. I am wearing a tank top underneath but it shows enough of my scars that he can see the damage I've done to my body.
"Well," he says, "They're not as bad as I was expecting."
"They're still bad," I say.
"Why don't you start wearing short sleeves and shorts?" He asks, "That way everyone can get used to the scars before the trip and it won't be such a big deal."
"I guess, I'll that," I say.
"Yeah," he said, "Just start with like long-ish short sleeves tonight at dinner."
"I'll do that," I say, trying to be confident.