Chapter Seven: Aye Aye Smitty

…

I entered English, my last class of the day, with a victorious smile on my face. I'd once again successfully evaded Tyler and Reid, swooping in right before the bell rang to the only remaining seat across the room from them. They frowned over at me and I lost the smile. The weight of what I was doing had begun to press itself down on me. I was sure everyone could see it. The haunted look in my eyes had only heightened since the night I'd woken up screaming. It was then that I'd decided to cut myself off. I'd stopped seeing Reid, Tyler, even Mallory. I'd stopped drinking, which had seemed to escalate the black outs. It had only been a week but it felt much longer. I frowned down at my desk, I was grateful to Reid but I needed my space. There were so many weird things going on that I needed to get my head straight. He'd tried getting a hold of me after the incident with ominous text messages. We need to talk. They'd been trying relentlessly to catch me at lunch, which I'd stopped going to, or in my room at night, where I hid under the covers until they went away. I'd been spending most of my time in the library, hidden behind an old bookcase in the reference section, or out on the cliff overlooking the Dells. I couldn't stand for him to see me. I'm defective. Something isn't right with me and in the back of my mind I thought "Something isn't right with him either." As another searing stab went through my head, the fifth one today, I squeezed my eyes shut and willed it to go away. I was in agony.

I looked up as Professor Smitt cleared his throat to get everyone's attention I suddenly realized I wasn't the only one who looked grave.

"I'm sorry to announce that we've just received news of Professor Dillard's death. He was just found in his home, having suffered a heart attack. I know this must come as a shock to you all-"

At this he was cut off by a laugh. My laugh. More like a cackle really. I swear I couldn't stop myself.

In between gasps for air I managed to get out, "A surprise? Seriously? The man was what, ninety years old? What. A. Pity."

As I began laughing again Proessor Smitt's face flushed red with anger.

"To the guidance office. NOW."

"Aye, aye Smitty."

Still giggling I made my way out the door.

…

As I walked down the hall to the guidance office, the giggling having subsided, I realized that I'd never felt so lonely in all my life.

I sighed as I knocked on the door to Mrs. Wilikers office.

"Come in," the sun-shiney voice called from inside the room.

I opened the door and preceded to sit down in front of her desk. Glancing at the room around me I saw that nothing had changed since the last time I'd been here. The gold plated name tag, Jane Wilikers, still sat on the desk, alongside a computer, potted plant, and a framed picture of a dog. The walls were still that powder blue, which I assume is meant to be calming, the pictures were the same, beautiful oceans and grand sunrises. A new beginning? How corny.

smiled at me in that demure way of hers and gestured towards the squashy arm chair across from her desk, "Please have a seat. Is everything alright Jenna? Your professor says that you've been exhibiting some odd behavior."

I slumped down in the chair, placing an elbow on the arm and my head in my hand, " I haven't been getting very much sleep this week."

She smiled sadly, "I'm sorry to hear that. Is there any particular reason for that?"

"Just stress."

"Well you're due for a little of that. However, your professor seems to think this behavior stems back since before winter break. She says you've been," she glanced down at the folder in front of her, "on edge."

"Gee Wilikers, I wonder why that would be."

Her smile faltered at my favorite expression to use in front of her. "The loss of your sister is a tragedy you will not soon forget and I know that to go on living is the hardest thing you've ever had to do. I understood the outlandish behavior before but time does go by. People do forget, you won't, but everyone else will and that is the hard truth of it. You won't be able to wring sympathy forever, you have to start taking things seriously again lest you have a set back."

At this I sneered at her and stood up, "Fuck you."

When her head whipped back in surprise, I realized I'd maybe gone a step too far, "You don't know anything. You sit here and pry into the minds of people far more unique than you could ever hope to be. Plain Jane, you'll never be special. Your mommy issues get you no sympathy from me."

Whoops. Make that definitely too far. No way to take back letting her know that I've sneaked a peek into her personal file. Double whoops.

"I think it's time to call your mother. She and I have been discussing the option of seeing a therapist on a regular basis."

At this I turned around and threw the door open. "Jenna, we aren't finished here."

….

My mother, the flighty wife, the turned teen again, delusional tramp thought I needed therapy. What a joke. I stomped my way down the hall towards the library with a ferociousness akin to an enraged bull. How dare she? As I entered the library and made my way to a computer terminal hidden in the back of the room I finally resolved myself to do it. They were right after all, I did have a problem, just not one they knew about.

As I typed in 'Schizophrenia' into the search engine I began to bite my nails, a nervous habit I thought I'd outgrown and I braced myself for what I knew I would read.

…

Please R&R as there's only about three more chapters to go before the end of the story :P