Chapter 3 I Had An English Test Today

Four weeks ago I had my first experience outside the walls of my house in nine years.

I had imagined the world beyond based on my prior knowledge, the view from my windows, and what I saw on TV. I dreamed of sandy beaches, warm sun, glaciers, and water so deep you couldn't touch the floor. I remembered how nice the kids were in elementary school and despite knowing not everyone stays so nice, I imagined there is more good than bad.

Until my reintroduction into the world, into this quiet little town, turned dark and left a sour taste in my mouth.

It is now my third week of high school- I went from third grader to senior in the blink of an eye. No one so far has remembered me from elementary school and faces are so fuzzy I wouldn't be able to tell who was once a friend if I tried.

Reentering high school was just one of the many precautions my parents took after the accident. Something like 'blending into the crowd will make me safer,' and truthfully this school was over its set set capacity in terms of students. However, I stand out among them, the outlier, the one everyone whispers about because word always travels fast in a small town. Its hard to blend when people go out of their way to not come near you, when you're the only one they're pointing at. They know I don't belong here, they know the rumors, and I just don't fit into their system.

So, everyday after the final bell rings I go to the counselor's office and wait for my driver to pick me up. I have to have a chat with Mr. Zetty, the school's only guidance counselor, about how my day was or if I'm doing okay. I always give the same answer due to the fact I know this man doesn't really care about the ins and outs of my life.

Mr. Zetty sat up in his chair and placed his chin in his folded hands, offering me a closed-mouth, severely insincere smile. He has balding brown hair that he tries to cover up by sliding it to the side, and block glasses that made his equally bland brown eyes pop.

"Did you have a good day today?"

I sat in his chair with my head partially zoned out It felt as if I was sitting and watching this all happen, frozen, not fully in control over my own body. I was clutching my journal tight against my abdomen with my right leg tapping erratically. I know I need to snap out of it. I'm just staring...

My shoulders shift and I look at him after blinking away the blur. "Yes," i know he doesn't care about the answer, or else he would see my lying through my teeth. He's only required to ask that and if I were to tell him all the things going on in my head I'm not sure if he'd do anything.

"I had an English test today," I say with a nod, my eyes trailing down to the stained carpet instead of his forced facial expression.

"Oh really? And how did that go?"

I shrugged, "Well the multiple choice was fine I think, I couldn't focus through the essay portion though." I drag my foot along the carpet, creating a brighter stripe. "That and I thought the test was Thursday."

Mr. Zetty hums and I hear the top of his pen on a paper, "Well according to this it is in fact Thursday." He said it with a twinge of fake brightness, as if he was talking to a child.

"That it is."

The door opens and in comes Darla my assigned buddy. They paired us up together because we went to the same elementary school... and that's about it. She's in a couple of my classes, shows me around, and provides a seat at lunch but other than that she makes it obvious that she doesn't want me around.

"Hello Mrs. Swanson!" Mr. Zetty perks up as Darla sits down beside me.

With Darla in the room there's a new lively energy I don't offer and thus, Mr. Zetty lights up whenever she's around.

She sits next to me and lets out an exasperated sigh, "I can't wait to graduate and leave these cramped hallways in the past." She outstretched her arms around the seat and crossed her legs, her eyes not meeting mine.

Mr. Zetty laughs and nods, "Well Darla how would you say Ayla's behavior has been lately?"

I look up between the two with a sudden pain in my stomach.

She finally looked at me and lifelessly giggled, "What? Can't you tell she's the life of the party?"

My cheeks flare up and I look down back to my stripes in the carpet.

"And then today Aleman called on her to solve an equation and she wrote a squiggly line and like totally freaked out."

There it is.

Mr. Zetty's head slowly turns to look at me, "Well you certainly left that out. Doesn't sound like the description you gave me does it?"

I shouldn't be forced to come here and yet feel like I'm in trouble.

"Um... I don't know. Its not that big a deal."

"I swear she acted like she'd seen a ghost."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and let Darla's laughter fade out of my mind. The feeling of dread was quickly coming back to me... the feeling that everything I touch somehow hurts me, like my mind was on fire. I have to fight the urge to try and claw out of my own skin.

Mr. Zetty leans forward to me and whispers, "You know I'll have to record this right?"

This is supposed to be helping. This is supposed to let me know people are there for me.

I nodded.

Three o'clock finally rolls around and I dart out of the guidance office and into the silent hallways towards the back door. This part of the precaution ensures no one sees where I leave and I avoid any gaze from others.

My stomach felt as if bugs were crawling up my insides, making their way to escape out my mouth. Maybe Darla was in the right by telling him what happened in math today- but how does a student get to be asked about my behavior right in front of me? I didn't freak out like she said...

As soon as I walk out the doors and see out driver Ethan waiting. I shove my backpack to the floor of the car and slam the passenger door.

My head is pounding. It does that now. That happens to normal people... it's nothing.

It's nothing.

I take a deep breath and squeeze my journal to my chest again, fighting back the urge to cry. Nothing is wrong with me and I have it all under control.

Ethan has been silent since I got in the car until he genuinely asks, "How was school?" An innocent question, something you'd ask anyone if they leave school, you don't have to say anything about what actually happened there.

"Oh fine."

Ethan is a quiet and nice guy with red hair and brown eyes with a hint of bright gray around the pupil that always stood out to me. He has some connection to my father down at the station and was hired to drive me from school because my father trusts him. He always genuinely cared enough to check up on me and made accommodations so I don't freak out in his car, like letting me sit in the front seat. I'll appreciate his quietness with my headache and the awful day I had.

"I have another meeting with your parents today," he says.

I don't like going home. i don't like talking about my parents. Ever since the accident they've both been home more, weird considering how lightly they've taken the situation. Before, they strategically didn't come home if they knew the other would be there.

I looked at him, "That's fun. More business matters?"

I know he won't give me an answer... he never does.

"Yep."

Wonderful.

Eventually the buildings turn to trees and we continue into the forest to reach my house. My house is on a cliff side connected to the ocean. Its a big house- way too big for three and certainly too big for just me. I have it memorized top to bottom and it's always felt like a real home when I'm by myself.

We reach the front of my house, surrounded by tall trees smelling like pine and birds singing off in the distance. You can hear the faraway sound of waves crashing into rock and the wind hitting the current and side of rock.

Ethan gets out and opens the door for mean together we walked inside to the kitchen where the usual meetings take place.

My mother forces me to stop when she stands in the middle of the entry to the kitchen, both hands grabbing either side of the hallway.

I tense up as she stares down at me, lips pursed forward and head cocked to the side. Mother is known for her intimidation. There's a regal sense to her and her exuded terror makes you feel much smaller than you actually are. She was enough to turn my father into a spineless, stuttering piece of meat.

"Mother," I whisper. My head slowly falls to the floor before her hand grasps my chin and pulls my face up to look at her.

"Did I give you permission to walk into the kitchen?" She raises an eyebrow.

I meekly begin to shake my head and as I do she let's go and shoves my face into the wall beside me.

"Go upstairs."

Turning around I bolt for the staircase and turn left to my room, slamming the door behind me.

I shake from the noise... it all happened so fast. The pain settled in, my face hot from impact. I can't hold the tears back as I press my forehead into the door. The lingering sensation from school grips my body, sending aches throughout my spine.

My name is Ayla Gordon and even that, I am unsure of. I'm not alone with my thoughts anymore... No one believes me but if you're reading this then you might have just discovered the truth about the world. Something is wrong with me and no one will listen. Please... I'm afraid and so, so alone.