Chapter 1 Sam I cringe as another ball bounces off the backboard… and doesn’t make it into the net. “You’re shooting too hard, son, fix it!” I hear my dad shout from where he’s trimming the hedges. “You’ll never get a scholarship with a free throw like that.” I silently curse my father. Why does he always have to put his two cents in? Does he think I don’t notice every time I miss a shot? That I don’t hear it echoing in my skull, and later his comments reverberating through my head as I fall asleep? But whatever. That doesn’t matter. All that matters right now is the game. I shake the thoughts from my head, inhale, line up my shot, exhale and shoot. Swish. See, I could do it if I focused. ADD makes that a bit hard sometimes though, but that was a good thing for basketball. There were always multiple things to focus on. You don’t hear the crowd, it’s just you and the ball. I really hate school. Having to sit still, for 7 HOURS is insane, especially for me. I mean, don’t you think it’s a bit messed up that we are expected to sit quietly and listen to whatever they’re trying to shove into our heads? I honestly just CAN’T do that. It’s impossible. So I get distracted by little things. I am constantly moving, tapping a pencil, working out plays in my head. Anything to keep me busy. “Sam, get in here! I KNOW you haven’t finished that essay!” Jeez mom, back off. So I didn’t finish the essay. Not like 1 bad grade is gonna kill me.
Spencer I rest my head back against my wall and close my eyes, giving them a break from the laptop screen I’d been staring at for the past 4 hours. I love writing, but sometimes it’s so exhausting. Especially if it’s required! I mean how am I supposed to write a flippin’ paper of the “Rhetoric Appeals of the Speech Day of Infamy”? Ugh. Whatever, just gotta get my ticket punched and move on. Lately that’s been my motto for just about everything… just get it done and move on. Don’t focus on what’s happening. A lot like that stupid frozen movie. ‘Conceal, don’t feel.” If only I’d realized sooner how true those words were. Those 3 words wrap up my entire life. Conceal what you feel to make others happy, your emotions don’t matter. As long as others are happy, so are you. At least that’s the mantra that I keep spinning through my head. I open my eyes again. A notification pops up, alerting me that I have one new message. “Please be Katharine, please be Katharine” I plead as I open my account. It is! That girl has impeccable timing. Just when I needed her most. She asked how I was doing… what do I tell her? I don’t want to weigh her down. She seems upset herself, so I’ll just put the typical “just tired” response and make sure she’s okay before I bring up anything about myself. I pop my earbuds in as we continue talking, shutting the world out and letting the words of “Famous Last Words” by MCR rush over me. Music has always calmed me down, and lord knows I need it before being surrounded by 1500 different people tomorrow.
Sam “Man, just look at her” I thought to myself. “The way she brushes her hair behind her ear, the way she smiles-““Dude, wake up!”. My daydreaming was interrupted suddenly by John waving his hand in front of my face. I realized that I had been staring straight at her for a good five minutes. “So, that’s who you like” said John with a raised eyebrow and a sly smirk as he elbowed me in the ribs. “No!” I immediately said. “I was just wondering how someone could read that fricken’ much. I mean it’s not normal, and what on earth is going on with her hair?” “Dude, I know right! Like why can’t she be normal?” I felt a surge of anger. Why had I just said that? Her hair was one of my favorite things about her (not that I knew much) How could I have been that stupid? Spencer “Why is he staring at me?” I thought. It’s not like I was the prettiest girl in the room, not by a long shot. Great, now that stupid dickhead John is laughing at me. I started blushing. “Exactly what I needed right now, more fuel for their teases”, I thought. Don’t they get that I just want to be left alone, to disappear into my own little world? Away from the taunts and messages and looks that fill my everyday life. I want to go home; no, I take that back, anywhere but home and here in this hell-hole. Why isn’t there a switch, where we can just turn the world off? Guess my music will have to suffice, I think to myself, as I slip my ever-present earbuds into my ears. Sam “Sam watch this!” Whisper-yells John; he quickly scrawls a note on a shred of paper torn from his notebook. He folds into one of those little paper football things and before I can stop him, flicks it- straight at Spencer’s desk. It hits her in the side of the face; she starts to blush, and then sneaks a quick look at the two of us from behind her curtain of dark blue-streaked hair. John just gives her a little sneer and flips her off. She quickly hides her face behind her hair again, and starts to unfold the note. I see her eyes go wide as she reads whatever’s written there. I smack John in the arm and angrily whisper “What the hell did you do?!” He just chuckles and shakes his head. He leans close to my ear, and says “I simply asked her what was wrong with her today. She doesn’t look like her usual emo, attention-whore self.” He begins to laugh even harder, as though his was one of the funniest things he’d ever said. I was appalled. How could someone be so rude? “Why would you say that?” I asked. John simply gave me a puzzled look, and said “What’s she matter to you? She’s just a stupid emo.” I quickly flushed. How could I explain that her blush was beautiful, that I loved the way she hid her face...? I quickly covered it up though by saying “I just don’t want her to go, you know, tell Mr. Sanford and you get in trouble.”
Spencer
I feel something hit the side of my face. I look down on my desk and see a folded up note. I look back to, guess who, John. He gives me that stupid little sneer and FLIPS ME OFF. Ugh. So I turn away. I can’t deal with his crap today. I start to carefully open the note, and feel myself blush as I read what’s written inside. He’s what it said “You look different today. Where’s your typical emo, attention-whore self? Left it at home? Wish you’d left yourself in a casket.” My eyes start to water, and I silently curse myself for being so sensitive. I tuck the note into my pocket quickly. At least they can’t see my face, as I risk a quick glance through my curtain of multi-colored hair. If only they knew how close I came to actually being in a casket… If only they knew. But no, they’d never know, and it was better that way. I don’t need them, and I know that what they say doesn’t really matter, but my heart… my heart thinks that’s all that matters. What others think. I’m already different enough.
Sam Why is John such a dick? I mean, what gives him the right to say things like that? And worse than that, why did I go along with it? Why don’t I have a spine around guys like him? *cue inward sigh* I know the answer to that… its because I’d give my right arm just to be in with the popular guys. To get invited to the cool parties, to get the hot girls, and most of all, to fit in. Sure, I’ve got the right clothes (you know the drill, Nike, Adidas, etc.) and possibly the looks. Dark hair that’s sorta long, blue eyes. I’m no jock like John, but I made Varsity basketball and Football so I can’t be that bad.
Spencer
*deep breath* Just calm down. Jeez, Spencer, its not this big a deal. So what if a couple of popular guys think badly of you? You know that what they say isn’t true. And yet… I know that it really shouldn’t mean anything, but here’s the thing. Words hurt. You know the saying “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me”? It’s a lie. Words are why my breathing is coming in short, shallow gasps, why I stay up until 3am every night contemplating trivial things that “maybe I shouldn’t have said that, maybe now they hate me” and the list goes on and on. The sound of footsteps growing gradually nearer breaks my blank stare at the off-white, dirt-flecked tiles of Anderson High. Oh god, I think, what’ve I done now? I quickly attempt to look like I’ve gotten something done in the past hour I’ve been sitting here. “Please don’t be me, please don’t be me...” runs continuous rounds in my head, and I swear my heart skips a beat when Mr. Sanford stops beside my desk. He leans down, motioning with his hand for me to give something to him and says “I saw what just happened… hand it over.” I look up with confusion. What could he possibly mean? And then I remember the piece of paper… It all comes down to words doesn’t it? Here, I’m left with the choice; do I let those idiots get what they deserve, or do I remain my typical “turn the other cheek” self? I pause and reach my hand to get the piece of paper, with Mr. Sanford tapping his hand on the table impatiently. Which do I choose…?
Sam
I smack Johns arm repeatedly, going wide eyed “Man, look, you’re gonna get caught!” Mr. Sanford had strode up to Spencer’s desk and held his hand out. Oh god, was he gonna find out?! My parents would kill me if I got detention! I watched anxiously as Spencer handed him the piece of paper… He stood and read it, and laughed. “Why sure you can tutor Sam and John! I’m glad you’re so kind.” He then turned towards John and I and said “John, Sam, I expect you to stay after every Tuesday until 4:45. You may use my room as a place to meet.” I immediately turned to John, and he huffed out a big sigh and rolled his eyes. “Great.” He said. “Now we get to spend more time with an over-emotional whiny emo girl.” Now, that might’ve been Johns first thought, but mine was a combination of “HOLY SHIT I ACTUALLY GET TO TALK TO HER WITH A GOOD REASON” and “Why did she help us?” I mean, we haven’t always exactly been nice to her... There was that time when me and a few friends (why do I follow the crowd?) threw food at her at lunch… or the time when we made rue comments that she could overhear as we walked by her… I mean, she LITERALLY had no reason o help us, whatsoever. Unless… nope, no way, that is not possible. I mean, why would she ever LIKE a guy like me? There is no possible way and I’m not even letting myself go there. But what if… NO. NOT. GOING. THERE.
Spencer
There’s a noise across the classroom, thank the lord. Mr. Sanford jerks his head and begins to yell at the stupid boys for throwing pencils across the room. I quickly scribble out a note with the most un-me handwriting I can manage, which isn’t that hard considering how different mine is from everyone else’s. I freeze for a moment, unable to decide what it is I want to say. I scribble a tutorial request, and immediately regret it. Why on earth would I VOLUNTARILY sign up to tutor dumb jocks? Ugh. I really hate myself sometimes. (that’s a whole ‘nother can of worms I don’t really want to open) Great. Now on to Civics… all time favorite class!! Sarcasm. That was sarcasm people.
Chapter 2 Sam Man, why are all the good people only in 1 class? I mean seriously. They should take one, just ONE friend for each kid and put them in all of each others classes. Especially for 16-year-old kids. I mean, the whole friggin’ world expects us to have our whole like planned out by now, and I can’t even tell you what I want for dinner! A guy needs friends to chill out with. Classes, especially boring English, would be so much more entertaining if we got it with our friends. So we wouldn’t get much done, so what? It would save our sanity, and isn’t that important? Oh, don’t you even DARE give me that “Make new friends” bullshit! That’s a load of crap and we both know it. “Just make new friends, it’s not that hard.” Well guess what people, it is for kids who have social anxiety and literally feel like they’re having a heart attack every time they have to “make new friends”. Not saying that I…. Well its not like I… okay so yea, I have social anxiety, big whoop. I’m weak. I know. Don’t need the other guys to know that though… They already “tease” me enough.
Spencer
“Least I can read in this class,” I think to myself as I turn another page, but as silently as possible so as not to draw attention my way. Everything around me quiets, as I am slowly absorbed in my novel… The brave heroine, beautiful and strong as she downs her enemies with a simple glance. Her confidence never wavers, and she is never afraid. She has all the lovers she could ever want or need, people who respected her. Most of all, she was loved. She was known everywhere for her beauty and kindness. Why couldn’t I be pretty? Instead I was short, just 5” 4”, with semi-wavy hair that only looked okay part time. Sure my eyes were blue and I guess that was something, but sorta that washed-out light blue(then again you’d never really notice that because I’m always hiding behind my hair..). My face was far too round, and my eyes too deep set. Light smatter of freckles, but no dimples to make them look cute. Not like I have serious curves either, just average. My hair’s average length, but about the only thing that stands out about me is that it’s bright purple. Nobody wants a girl with colored hair. Nobody wants average. They want the beautiful girls, like Peyton Roth and Kendall White. The ones with the highlights, the athletic ones, the skinny ones. Everything I’m not. My head snaps up to the bell ringing. I didn’t realize how much time had passed! Least now I get to leave. Back to friends that actually care, back to the safety of my room, away from prying eyes.
Sam I toss my stuff down by the door as I walk into the house. I stop after a few steps, walk back and grudgingly pick it back up and drag it to my room. Almost forgot about mom’s new rule about not leaving my stuff all around the house. Sorta sucks being an only child... can’t blame anybody else for leaving your stuff everywhere. I dump my book bag on the floor in my room and turn my laptop on. That thing is so slow, I swear. Takes at least 5 minutes to load every time. Oh even more wonderful, it’s decided to update. Might as well go get something to eat while it’s loading. I run down the stairs, and almost make it… annnnndddd trip on the second to last step and land on my face. “Why am I so clumsy?” I think to myself as I massage my sore wrist. I slowly pick myself up off the ground and brace myself against the wall, only to find that a sharp pain went through my wrist to my elbow. I clutch my left arm against my chest and inhale sharply. I continue on my way to the kitchen, trying to remember if I bent it funny underneath me, but of course my memory sucks. All I remember is going from being upright to having my face squished against the hardwood floor. I grab a bag of peas from the freezer and lay it across my wrist. Not the worst pain I’ve had, but my dads gonna kill me if its broken... Championships are Saturday. I walk carefully back up to my room, with a box of cereal in one hand and the peas on the other. Great, the laptop STILL hasn’t finished updating. Oh well.
Spencer I walk into the house quietly as I can as mom might be sleeping. I peek into her room to see her not there, so I tip toe to the garage and open the door. Nothing. Nobody’s home, awesome! I skip back to my room, already cranking up my music and yanking my earbuds from the jack. Time for some major karaoke! I grab a glass bowl from the kitchen as I walk past and set my phone in it, and it instantly makes the music twice as loud. Sorry neighbors, today is my day! I toss my book bag beside my door and shut it, breaking into the chorus of “Kids in the Dark” by All Time Low. I send a message to Katherine, telling her about how lucky I am. I flop into bed and grab my book from my bedside table and sing along to the songs as I read, lost in my own little world, so much so that I don’t hear the car pull into the driveway. I’m still singing when my mom pops her head in the door, and I immediately fumble for my phone to shut everything off. “Couldn’t help but hear your little jam session up in here. Mind if I join in?” My moms always been really cool about letting me dye my hair and listen to whatever I want, but sometimes she can be a bit oppressive to the point of helicopter-parent. Always wanting to know every little detail, wanting to have “mother-daughter” bonding every weekend. Which was fine, but kids need some privacy. “I was just starting my homework, actually.” I say, and she nods and wishes me luck as she backs from the room. I settle in to talking to a few internet friends, content with the quiet of my room.
Sam I hear my dad walk in just after finishing my essay. “oh shit” I think, looking at the half-defrosted bag of peas laying beside my chair. I quickly scan my room, looking for a place to hide the evidence and I hear footsteps on the stairs. I kick them under my bed just as he walks in the door, and try to look casual even though my wrist was on fire. I’d accidentally knocked it on the desk when I spun my chair around, and now had shooting pain running up my forearm. My dad walks over and unceremoniously slaps the back of my shoulder and says “How ya doing, sport?” I wince as I rub my shoulder with my right hand, massaging out the stinging. I told him I was doing well, excited for the game on Saturday. He launches into a long-winded lecture on the history of the game and how important it was and blah blah blah a speech id heard at least 500 times before. Why couldn’t he just leave me alone? He finally leaves with the box of cereal, mumbling about how athletes need to practice self control and something else. Soon I hear him calling me down to dinner. “least I’m right handed” I think to myself as I trudge downstairs.
Spencer I drag myself into school, plodding up the hallway. I tug my hoodie farther over my head in a futile attempt to hide from everyone. I walk quickly with my head down so as to avoid making eye contact with anyone, and therefore avoid confrontation. I stop abruptly as I bump into someone. I begin to mumble an apology but then I look up... and right into the furious eyes of Peyton Roth. She looks angrily from my face to her front, now splattered with an obscure Starbucks latte of some kind. I cringe and brace for impact as she opens her mouth, waiting for the words to fly out of her mouth and pummel me relentlessly. To my surprise, she just open and shut her mouth, sort of like a fish, a few times and then stormed off with a half-squeal, half-huff. I couldn’t help but giggle, just a little. I mean, I HATED Peyton. With a passion. I don’t hate many people, but she’s for good reason. I don’t understand how she has like 10 guys always trailing after her, hanging ion her every word! I mean she’s such a bitch! Especially to the “little people” like me. I suddenly trip, but not from clumsiness. A sharp burst of laughter ensues, and I’m now sprawled at the feet of Peyton and her entourage, including John and Sam. I push back the tears o embarrassment with half a mind to just beat her ass right now, but as always, the timid side wins over and I pick myself up off the ground and hurry on to my first class. I take refuge at the computer, not listening to anyone who surrounds me. I immediately message Katharine and explain the whole thing, and she distracts me enough to forget my anger at Peyton. For now.
Chapter 3 Peyton “...And then she purposely dumped her coffee all over me!” I exclaim to Kendall. “I can’t believe this girl. I mean, who does she think she is?” Kendall responds, flopping onto my bed to check her Snapchat. “Hey, come here” Kendall motions me over. I pose with her for her story and then continue on my rant. Why do I have a feeling she’s only half listening? Can’t she just listen and care about me for once? Not EVERYTHING has to revolve around her boyfriend, okay! Alright, so maybe I put Scott before everyone else, but that’s different okay! That’s me. She should listen to me on this. “Kendall, are you even listening?!” I shout angrily. Her head snaps around to face me. “Spencer spilled coffee on you blah blah blah, guts to do it blah blah blah… Yea I’m listening.” I roll my eyes behind her back. She wasn’t listening and we both know it. Instead of hitting her like I really want to, I plop down on the bed beside her and ask her what I should do to get back at her. “Just hide her headphones or something” Kendall mumbles, only half looking at me. We chat for awhile longer, about her boyfriend and mine and how we can’t believe this girl wore a crop top when she looks like a total slut in it! Especially when your stomach isn’t flat, like mine. You don’t get on varsity cheerleading with a muffin top! You have to be pretty, like me. Beach blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, thin, perfect makeup. And then add then popularity!
Sam “Sam, we leave in 5! Let’s MOVE.” I mumble back and “I’m coming” so he doesn’t have to yell again. I swear, sometimes my dad acts like he’s still in the marines. No emotion, all business, always busy, no complaining. From anyone. Hence why I still have a possibly broken/sprained wrist that hasn’t been checked out. And now I have to go to practice. Great, just great. I finish tying my shoes and bound down the stairs, only to forget that I’d left my brace upstairs. I dashed back up the stairs, yanked it from it’s place in my top drawer and hurriedly strapped it onto my wrist as I sprint down the stairs. I close the door behind me gently (mom HATES slamming doors) and hop into the car to my dad with his hand paused over the horn. I made it, just in time… Without my water bottle. Oh well. Dad eyes my brace as we pull out of the drive, but says nothing. I’ve had trouble with this wrist before, so he must not suspect much. He wont really care (I hope) as long as I can make my 3-point shots. We arrive at exactly seven o’clock, perfectly punctual as usual. I join the other guys and then we start our pre-practice suicides. They’re self explanatory. You run back and forth across the courts until you can’t breathe and you’d rather commit suicide than continue.
Spencer I look up just as my mom pops her head in the door. “Sweetie, wanna come join me for dinner? I made your favorite!” I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. Burgers are absolutely AMAZING but… one glance at my mirrors puts all thoughts of eating to rest. “No thanks, mom, you go ahead. I’m really on a roll with this paper!” I say as cheerily as I can manage. She smiles and wishes me luck as she closes the door, and I hear her padded footsteps slowly grow softer as she nears the kitchen. I let my smile drop as soon as she closes the door. My mother is super supportive, but it’s not like you can go up to an adult and say “Hey. I hate the way I look and think that I’m fat so no I won’t be eating anything for awhile.” No. That’s not possible. I take another glance at the mirror, but look away as quickly as I can. I hate mirrors. But as much as I hate mirrors, I hate cameras more. I was beginning to understand the thoughts of the Evil Queen in Snow White. I understand why she was envious. Not saying that I wanted to kill anyone, no, never! I just wish I could look like other girls. That I had the friends that were always there (not that internet friends weren’t great, they are, really... you just need someone there to hug you sometimes.). I mean I have 1 best friend, and I couldn’t love anyone more. She’s always there for me, and I for her. I support her in everything and I tell her EVERYTHING. I can’t imagine my life without her. But lately… she’s become distant. She’s started devoting more and more of her life to her boyfriend, and less to me. Maybe it’s wrong for me to be jealous of her relationship with him, but I am. I miss her. I miss telling her when I have problems… I can’t say everything I need to with her boyfriend hanging on my every word. I just need a day with her, maybe just a night, to get everything off my chest. Is that too much to ask? Peyton “Hey look, there’s your best friend.” Kendall smirks as we watch Spencer (Who the heck names their kid spencer anyways? I mean, especially a GIRL.) slink down the hall, eyes downcast as always. I watch her face flush as we make eye contact with me for a few seconds. I’d never tell anyone this, but she’s not as ugly as she could be. I mean she has a nice figure and pretty eyes. I sorta feel bad that she’s at the bottom of the food chain… Wait, WHAT am I saying? There is no way on EARTH she could be up here with me. I mean, just look at her! She’s so awkward and weird. And seriously, she looks like she’s on drugs with those dark circles under her eyes. There’s… there’s something about her eyes. They’re different. Like somebody that’s seen too much. Frankly, they’re a bit scary. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is how to get back at her for spilling that all over me. The NERVE that bitch must have! We’ll just have to see how English goes today…
Sam John and I make our way down the hall, taking about practice last night. “Hey, what’d you do to your wrist man?” he asks, motioning to my brace. I panic. I mean its not like I could just say “Yea I feel down the stairs and landed on my face. It was pretty Lit.” He’d laugh his ass off at me! So I quickly respond with ‘Oh, nothing, I just… uh… it was just bothering me again...” He gives me a “Bullshit” glance but shrugs and continues on his rant about Preston’s sick half-court shot last night and why he couldn’t’ve done that in the game Saturday. I’m only half listening, because DAMN that girl is hot… I give her my best “sexy-guy” wink as she passes, along with a hair flip for good measure. She blushes and squeals to her best friend after she passes. Pretty face, tiny waist, and a bubble butt… What more could a guy ask for?
Spencer Oh god, she saw me. Great. Just what I needed. Last night was bad enough, though I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Anything for a friend. I mean, who WOULDN’T stay up all night to talk somebody out of suicide? No one that I know. Especially if they truly mean something to you. Okay so I might hate people, but I’d never stand by and let them DIE. Ever. I brace myself for the cold as I walk out the door and to the tree where I wait for Harmony every day. I stand there, bouncing on my toes to keep from freezing for about 10 minutes. Nothing out of the ordinary. She come walking up, moving slowly as was typical for her “morning” self. Her boyfriend suddenly materializes by my side and grasp her hand as soon as she grows close enough. Jeez, clingy much? Why not just run to her and hug her then? But whatever, if he makes her happy, that’s all that matters. She grins and launches into an explanation of her clogging lessons last night, and I nod along and laugh at the appropriate times but my mind is a million miles away. Praying she could read the message in my eyes, that I wasn’t happy, that I didn’t feel like smiling. It was all for her. She didn’t need to worry about me. All that mattered was making her happy. She was so pretty and kind and caring. I couldn’t imagine NOT having her by my side. I mean, we’d literally been in Pre-k together! She means so much to me, and I wish I could express all that, but I’ll settle for a hug. I wave goodbye as she hurries off to class and walk awkwardly beside her boyfriend who happens to be going the same way as I am, saying nothing.
Sam I plop down into my seat just as the bell rings, brushing the hair from my eyes and trying to steady my breathing so the teacher won’t notice. I exchange a grin with Evan, who sits in front of me. Mrs. Steven’s didn’t even notice. She continues on her constant drone about the parts of the brain, boring me into a stupor. “…Sam?” I feel a rush of hysteria coming on... I hate it when teachers call my name. Especially when I hadn’t been paying attention. I take a guess, praying to every god I know that its right and I wont be humiliated “Uhhh, the Frontal Lobe?” I prepare myself for the seeming inevitable “WRONG” that was to come. I feel my face flush as she stares at me for 5 seconds, and then raises an eyebrow and says in an almost surprised manner “Correct.” And moves on to the next victim of her never-ending scrutiny. I rest my head against my desk, and next thing I know, the bell rings. I jerk upright and immediately regret it; I slammed my wrist against the desk. Hard. I push back the water forming behind my eyes. I slowly gather my things, not even bothering to fully zip my book bag. I just shove everything into my bag and move on to my next class. I can’t lose it here. Can’t let it shown. Sorta like that stupid Frozen movie. Alright, don’t judge me. I’ve got small cousins that watched it while I was over, and those songs are so annoying and yet catchy…
Chapter 4 Spencer Here I am, as always, not talking. Avoiding eye contact. Why do I do this? Why do I feel this never-ending urge to isolate myself? I honestly don’t know. That’s part of the reason why I wonder why Harmony stays with me. I mean, I loveeeee her to death. Absolutely, with everything I have. I just wonder why she puts up with a lot of my crap. I mean, nobody wants someone with issues like mine… they don’t want nor need to deal with me. They don’t need someone who gets jealous when they let one friend hug them and the other not. Then again, Harmony and I have a lot of the same problems. I think that’s why we’ve grown so strong. We help each other, are there for each other, listen to each other. Well, we used to a lot more than we do now. I’m here for her, and I honestly worry about her. She hasn’t been herself lately. Nothing really drastic, just small things. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She doesn’t sleep. I’m worried. She insists she’s fine… I know the signs when I see them.” I’m broken from my constant stream of typing by somebody mentioning my name… My ears seem to perk up as I begin to catch snippets of the conversation that’s occurring a few seats away. “Look at her... she’s so ugly. She never leaves that computer... She’ll never go anywhere in life.” My eyes begin to water. I try to hide it with my hair, as always. I immediately try to push down the emotions. The depression. The anxiety. I can’t lose it here. A… friend? We’re not that close, but not like peer. So I’ll go with friend. Comes up and starts to chat animatedly about her plans for her birthday. I respond with just as much gusto, gushing about how cute her plans seemed and wishing I could be there. She didn’t know I was falling apart, never noticed. That sort of hurt. But whatever, it’s better that she didn’t. The bell rings just as I finish carefully putting all my things back into my bag. I move on to my next class, dreading the smile I was about to paste on.
Peyton I smile at the tears forming in Spencer’s eyes. Take that, bitch. She won’t mess with me again. I turn to Kendall beside me (we have all of our classes together, thanks to my mother) and start talking about how I can’t believe that our Word & PowerPoint teacher was really going to give us a project over winter break. I mean come on, its our ONE time to party! Uhh, I mean, relax. Whatever. Least I’ll get to spend time with Kendall.
Sam My smile immediately turns to worry as Spencer slips into her seat. Sure, she’s smiling and laughing, but I can tell something is really bothering here. Should I go up to her and ask if she’s alright? Ugh. And here is where the anxiety kicks in. Not your typical nervous-to-talk-to-a-girl, but the crippling I CAN’T DO THIS feeling that makes your breaths shorten and your heart race. I spend an entire 30 minutes of class working up the courage to go up to her, when Mr. Sanford decides to rearrange seats. Thank the LORD, I didn’t know how much longer I could sit next to Peyton without telling that bitch to shut up! Sure, she might have a nice body, but that mouth was NOT worth it. I gather my things as he points me to my new seat… RIGHT. BESIDE. SPENCER. My luck could NOT be any better. As I drop into my seat, I begin to joke around like I always do. With being at a table of 3, two of the members being girls, I really had no idea what to say. Shockingly, Spencer is really easy to talk to. Not at all what she seems. Now, she’s not buddy-buddy, but isn’t avoiding looking at me which is good.
Spencer I feel my heart drop and Mr. Sanford announces his plans to change seats. I was just barely comfortable with the people now! I mean, why can’t we stay? It’s truly not like anyone was misbehaving. Thankfully, he leaves me in the seat I’m in so I don’t have to suffer through walking in front of people. I really love teachers who understand that some students have anxiety and really are not able to do everything other students can. But, on the other hand, who do I get seated next to? Sam. I mean, I’ve never really talked to him, he just seems like your stereotypical popular jock. Oh jeez, here he comes… He looks just as nervous as I am. Hmm. I would’ve never guessed that someone like him COULD get nervous, but I guess we’re all human. He starts joking around, and he makes me smile. I respond with a few well-thought out retorts of my own. I start to analyze his actions, sorry if that sounds odd. I just think peoples’ actions count for more than their words. He doesn’t make any glances at his friends as though this is all a joke. He doesn’t point out my shaking hands that I’m desperately trying to hide, although I know he saw them. Then again, I don’t point out the slight shakiness in his voice either. Or the way he constantly fidgets and moves. I think he’s being earnest, and he might actually be a nice guy… Time will tell.
Sam Don’t judge, but I’m literally screaming on the inside. Oh sure, I’m my typical calm and collected, has-his-shit-together guy on the outside, but MAN am I sweating bullets. She seems so put together, but I know she’s just acting. I saw the way her hand shook as she passed me a worksheet, but I didn’t want to scare her so I didn’t say anything. I’m really surprised at how cool she is. I mean I thought she was pretty, and I had a vague idea that she was smart, but I didn’t know much else about her. Maybe now I’d get to learn… OH SHIT I’M SUPPOSED TO STAY AFTER TODAY. I wait for Spencer to finish talking because I know how much it would bother me if someone cut me off in the middle of a sentence and left (I mean honestly, that hurts. A lot. You sit there wondering what you did and yea its just no fun. Don’t do it.) to go talk to someone. I walk up to Mr. Sanford, trying to push down the feeling of hysteria at having to walk in front of 25 other people, and ask if I can go call my dad because I forgot about the tutorial session this afternoon. “Go ahead, but 5 minutes or less.” He says grudgingly, holding the door for me as I step out of the classroom. Dad’s in no casual mood, all business as always. He agrees, though said he’d pick me up at 4:45 pm sharp. I know I’d better be waiting for him by 4:40 or I won’t hear the end of it for at least a week. I try to be nonchalant as I walk back into the room, praying that nobody notices me, but what does my dumb-ass self do as soon as I see Spencer staring at me? Drumroll please... I TRIP. OVER A CHAIR. AND LAND ON TOP OF THE PERSON IN THAT CHAIR. I help the guy back up, apologizing and yet trying to laugh it off at the same time, only to be mortified further by the soft giggles coming from Spencer’s direction… I can feel the heat creeping up my neck, tinging my ears crimson and my face blood red. I skulk back to my seat, thoroughly hating myself and clutching my wrist. Despite the embarrassment, the pain in my wrist is unbearable. Spencer stops her laughing immediately as she sees the pain in my eyes that I’m desperately trying to hide, and I know she also sees the tears I’m pushing back. She glances down to my wrist and I can see the lightbulb flash in her head. She begins to ask if I’m okay, if she can do anything. I try to respond with “no” but my voice falters and I nod my yes. She calls the teacher over and explains, asking if she can go with me to the nurse. He takes one quick look at my paling face and quickly grabs a scrap of paper to write a note.
Spencer I hold out my hand for Sam, but pull it back. I know he doesn’t want to look weak among all these people. I am so stupid!! Why did I laugh at him? That was so mean of me. Ugh. I know that’s going to haunt me for months… We make our way out of the classroom, with he looking really pale and I building up the courage to talk to him. We start making our way down the steps when he stops. I turn back a few steps below him, and see him grasping the rail like it was the last thing keeping him here. I hurry to his side, and lay a hand on his shoulder. I ask him if he needs to sit down, and he nods once. I help him sit, because who cares if we’re in the middle of a flight of steps? He could pass out, and that would injure him further and I don’t want that. Wait. Hold up. Whatttttt was that. Am I beginning to… care about him? I only just met the guy! No. No I’m not, its just your normal compassion one human has for another. That’s all. I sit beside him and tell him to rest his head on his knees with his hands on the back of his neck. We sit for a few minutes in awkward silence (awkward for me at least…). “Alright, I’m good now.” He says, but I just raise my eyebrow at him. We both know that’s a load of crap, and I offer my hand to help him stand. I can see the battle going on in his head, and it went something like this… “…Do I save my pride and look good, or accept the help that I really need…” etc. etc. He finally relents and takes my hand as he stands slowly, careful to not become dizzy again. I make my way down the stairs by his side, making sure to go slowly this time. We walk carefully down the hallway to the office, and make it there about 10 minutes after leaving Mr. Sanford’s’ room. I hurriedly explain to the receptionist what the problem was and she directs him to the nurses’ office, where she’s already waiting with ice. I explain everything that went on, with the dizzy spell and the chair incident. I feel an intense urge to stay with him and make sure he’s okay, but I dutifully go back to class like nothing happened…
Peyton “Why the hell does she get to take him?!” I think to myself angrily ask Spencer walks out the door with Sam, he cradling his wrist against his side. Who does she think she is? She knows she doesn’t have a chance with him! I casually walk across the classroom to “get a pencil” and see Sam and Spencer sitting on the steps… TOGETHER. How DARE she make a move on him! I quickly ask Mr. Sanford if I can use the bathroom, and then grab my phone and stand at the top of the stairs. They’ve got no idea I’m here, and I smirk as I taken a quick picture of the two of them. I head to the bathroom, my thumbs flying over the keyboard as I enter the caption “Who does she think she is? Looks like Sam’s got himself a hoe…” I add a few choice emoji’s and then head back to class, checking the stairwell only to see that they aren’t there. Maybe they’ve moved to a more private spot… I whisper into Kendall’s ear about what I saw and she begins telling everyone to check their Insta’s. I sit back smugly, waiting for Spencer to walk back in. Take THAT, trying to move in on my man… Okay so he’s not mine yes, but I’d drop Scott in a heartbeat for him. He just needs to stop dragging his feet and ask already! He needs to hurry up already or he’s gonna miss out on all this… Well, if not him, maybe John would be willing. Whatever, as long as somebody takes me to Prom.
Chapter 5 Spencer I walk back in to class but immediately get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach… Everyone is staring at me. Not the typical oh—look-somebody-walked-in stare, but the I-know-something-you-don’t stare… I don’t like it. I flip my hair back in front of my eyes and slink back to my seat, my face and ears warming to a bright red. What did I do? The feeling on anxiety doesn’t go away as class progresses… I start to feel dizzy, nauseous, and my hands begin to shake. I feel like I’m going to be sick. I raise my hand for Mr. Sanford, because I don’t think I could stand walking in front of all those people again. He takes one look at my face and can tell that I was not doing well. He asks if I need some air, and if he could do anything to help me. That’s why he’s one of my favourite teachers. He understands that not every student is able to get up in front of a class and present, or is able to read aloud in class. He lets me step out of the class for a moment, and then comes to check with me. He can see that my breathing has only quickened, and that I look on the edge of hyperventilating… I FEEL like hyperventilating. What did I do? HE sends me down to the office, and ask if I’ll be able to make it on my own. I say yes, but make my way slowly. The receptionist looks surprised to see me again, but nevertheless shows me to the nurses’ office. I see Sam there, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. The nurse immediately sits me down, and I hear her mumbling about how she should have an assistant and about how this is the most excitement she’s had in weeks. She asks me how I am, and I say that I’m fine but motion for her to take care of Sam first. She grudgingly obliges, knowing that he needs more help but not wanting to ignore me. I insist that I’m fine and just need a moment, and she continues on her way to call Sam’s dad and explain the situation. I exchange a look with Sam, and I see his wrist. To my surprise, it isn’t bruised or anything… That’s a bad thing. It was insanely swollen, and I had just built up the courage to ask him how he was when the nurse returned. She said that Sam’s mother was on the way and that she’d called my mom to come pick me up. I ask why, and she says “…if someone broke their arm, you’d send them home, right? So why would we keep someone here who had an anxiety attack? Mental health is just as important as physical.” I feel myself starting to tear up as she whispers that she used to be the same way. I wipe away a tear and pull my act together as she turns her back to me and asks Sam if he needs more ice.
Sam As much pain as I’m in, my heart stops when I see Spencer walk into the room. I mean, not like the omg-she’s-so-pretty stops (though she is, I’ve literally had a crush on her since like 7th grade) more oh-my-god-is-she-okay heart stopping. The only thing I could think about right then was how I could help her. She looked so pale, almost green, and she was breathing really hard. I could see her hands shaking, and she wasn’t trying to hide it this time. Maybe she couldn’t. She looked like something I know all to well… she looked like hell. Like anxiety. Anxiety isn’t cute, people. It isn’t funny, it isn’t some person sitting alone in their room quietly suffering. It’s the most terrible feeling you could ever feel, like you can’t do anything. Like your heart is about to explode, as if your lungs are attempting to burst from your body. The pain in your chest is unimaginable, like a block of ice had been inserted into your ribcage. You can’t think, you can’t move… Nothing. Just thinking about it makes my muscles start to clench up… Anyways, you get what I mean. Why I was concerned. The nurse turns back to me, asking if I need more ice or anything. I shook my head no, and she flits around for a bit more before leaving the room. Spencer’s face is still in her hands but the time I’ve slid myself from the table, and walked slowly beside her. She reminds me of a deer, sort of. Skittish, but friendly when you get to know her. Not wanting to startle her, I “accidentally” drop the bag of ice and bend to pick it up, taking just enough time for her to conceal the flash of shock on her face. Holding my wrist against me, I try to slow my racing heart as I ask her if she’s okay. As I watch her face, it’s almost as though a mask comes over her face. A wall comes down. I can’t describe it any other way. She sits up from her slouch, sets her shoulders and answers confidently with “Yes, I’m fine.” I have the intense urge to put my hand on her shoulder and tell her that I know she’s not. I know that would only freak her out more, though, so I mumble good and head back to my seat on her table before the nurse comes by and sees me up. She’s well known to be a bit of a control freak.
Spencer I jump as the ice hits the floor, and curse myself when the tears begin to sting the backs of my eyes. He’s kind though and gives me a moment, and I can tell he’s trying to give me time which I really appreciate. I imagine a wall coming down in my mind, impenetrable, something that will never fall. I right my terrible posture and answer with a short, terse “Yes, I’m fine.” I look him in the eyes as I say this, to make it more believable. He hesitates, as though he were about to say something else, but the turns away after a quick nod and a mumbled word I don’t quite catch. As soon as he turns away, my shoulders drop an inch, but my face is set in stone. He’s seen me weak enough. He doesn’t need my drama as well as his. The Nurse pops her head back in, Taps my arm and says my mom had just walked in. I stand and give a small, insanely awkward wave to Sam and to my surprise, he smiles and waves back. I walk out before I ca make it any more awkward, but smile to myself as I walk the short distance to the office. The first thing my mom does is wrap me in a huge hug, and I immediately tense. Having people that close on short notice really unnerves me. I le her mumble whatever nonsense words she needs to get out of her system, then slowly push away. My efforts are futile though, as immediately her hand returns to rest on my shoulder, as though her hand is the only thing grounding me to reality. Which in some ways is true. With her hand there, I know that I have to keep my mask up. That the thoughts must be kept for later, so that no one will know. She reaches to pick up my book bag with her other hand, but I quickly jump in and say I’ll carry it. She doesn’t need to know why, just needs to feel as though I want to be independent.
Chapter 6 Sam I can see my dad’s impatient face in the car mirror, silently daring me to waste another minute. Whatever. The lecture I get will be worth it. I knock on the passenger side window gently, hoping not to startle her.. and failed miserably. IF there ever were a more perfect face for “deer-in-the-headlights“, I haven’t seen it. I motion for her to roll down the window, and then ask her if she’s okay. She nods with a smile, then, to my surprise, ask me if something was wrong. I ask why, of course, cause I hadn’t noticed anything out of place. “Because you’ve been staring at me for the past minute or so”. My heart literally skips a beat. And then two. And I just slowly slink away, my pride wayyyy below the pavement beneath my feet. Her quiet giggles echo around me as I get into the car, and it’s all I can do from face palming at my own awkwardness. My dad starts the car and pulls away, and I hear a faint rumble as he starts his lecture. But honestly? I was buried in the mounds of embarrassment that just seemed to keep coming at me. I felt the anxiety start to kick in, but I try to push down the terror (no wait, that isn’t the right word. Its not fear exactly, more like… I don’t know. I can’t describe it.) building inside my chest. I turn my head, only to find my dad staring at me as he rolls to a stop at the light. When he finally speaks, I exhale with a sigh of relief. All he asked was what I wanted to do for my wrist, which is obviously a bit messed up. I just asked him to take me to the doctor, no need to stress mom out and go to the ER. We both slip into or own little worlds as the buildings fly by, not bothering to fill the silence with unnecessary conversation. If there’s one thing I like about my father, its this. He doesn’t probe me to know everything, he and I are perfectly happy just being silent.
Peyton “Oh. My. GOSH. WHAT DOES HE THINK HES DOING? How dare he!” I glare out the window as Sam leans into Spencer’s car window. No. How dare SHE. This is all her fault. She’s just trying to do this because she knows he’s mine. I immediately pull my phone from my back pocket, telling Kendall all about the little… situation. And maybe I exaggerated a bit, but so what! Soon Kendall and I are deciding how and when to get back at Spencer. Nobody messes with Sam and gets away with it. I stalk away from the window and back towards the bench where everyone is gathered. I stop in the middle of the hall, with a slow smile spreading across my face. Today was the day for tutoring, right? Maybe I’ll have to… remind Mr. Sanford of this and suggest he switch the day to tomorrow. I might need to make an appearance.
Spencer I smile at the note laying in my lap. I quickly check around the car, just to make sure my mom isn’t on her way back. Then again, knowing her, she’ll talk for a good 15 minutes at least. Which typically would annoy me, but for right now, it’s a good thing. I unfold it carefully, slowly, making sure not to tear it at all. I know it’s a small thing, but there are a couple reasons it made me smile. One, Sam stared at me for at least a minute after dropping it into my hand. Two, he seemed to actually care whether I was okay. Which was amazing. I feel my jaw drop as I read what’s written. Nothing too special, just two sentences and a string of numbers. All it says is “Text me sometime. Keep Smiling, makes you pretty.” and then his phone number. Why does this make me so happy? I start giggling. Jesus Christ. When was the last time I giggled? That’s so… girly. I pull out my phone and begin to hurriedly gush to Harmony. She won’t be able to respond until later because she’s still in school, but I had to tell her. I tell her everything, and something this big definitely warrants a text in the middle of class. I manage to stop the giggling, though I’m still smiling like an idiot when mom gets in the car. She doesn’t notice, too busy ranting about some meaningless issues her “friend” kept complaining about. (Isn’t it the same thing my mom is doing though...?) I slowly start drowning out my mothers’ continuous stream of words with my sort of internal playlist (okay so am I just that much of a freak, or is that something that other people have too? Just sort of a few songs that get stuck in your head and play over and over.)
Sam I hate waiting. No matter what it is. Right now, it’s waiting for the x-rays to come back. Still haven’t fessed up to the fact that I fell down the stairs… My pride just can’t take that. My foot bounces anxiously as the minutes tick by. Jeez, how long does it take for them to run one x-ray? Yea, I know that they have other patients, but I really want to know. I mean I don’t but I do at the same time, if that makes any sense. Like I want to know if its broken, but a cast could really screw up my chance of starting the next few games. Heck, even playing. I shake my head as the door creaks open, the elderly but gentle doctor slowly sitting down at the small desk positioned at the counter. I wince slightly as they wrap the cast with plaster. Went for red, school pride. The nurse notices my wince and ask if she had hurt me. I shake my head no and reassure her. Poor girl. She looks so nervous. Pretty sure I heard them talking about how she was interning here and that she might not be “the right fit”. I wish I could help her… She seems really nice, if a bit clumsy. Earlier she knocked over a container of cotton swabs on the counter, and by the look on the doctors face, I could tell it wasn’t the first time. I made sure to tell her that she was doing well as I left the room, the cast making my arm unusually heavy.
Chapter 7 Spencer Do I text him? No, I should wait, he’s probably busy. But he could be waiting for me to- No that’s silly, why would he wait on me? Not like I’m as important as his other friends are. He might have practice or something. But I’m also dying to know if he’s okay… Jeez I hate this. The constant tennis match of my thoughts. I turn my music up louder, the pain barely registering as the bass flows through my mind, calming me. I feel my eyebrow raise as a message pops up on my screen. I don’t know this person, but he seems to be okay. I check out his profile, and… DAMN. He’s CUTE. Like not you typical high school kid cute, like your sexy cute. And he wants to follow me? Hell yea he can! I accept it and then send him a request as well. He accepts immediately. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. My thoughts of Sam fly out the window as another notification pops up. He messaged me… Just a simple “Hi”. A little bit of suspicion begins to creep in but… no. you’re thinking too far into this. He probably just needs to talk about something.
Peyton The sound hits me as soon as I open the door. I slink up the stairs, trying to ignore the sound of my parents arguing (arguing being the loosest definition) echoing around the inside of my skull. I pass my brothers room on the way to my own at the end of the hall, and all I can hear is the blaring music pounding from the crevice under the door. There’s no way he’d hear any of what was going on between them, and I was glad for that. He was just a kid. He doesn’t need this in his life. I set my bag in my desk chair and lay back on my bed, scrolling through my social media. Preston has his way of shutting things out, and I have mine (my parents had a thing with naming their kids with the first letter being “P”) After about 30 minutes of checking accounts and various apps, I move to start on my schoolwork. I sit twirling a strand of blond-highlighted hair as the laptop loads, completely and utterly unmotivated. Thank goodness that they’ve at least decided to be silent. First time in seemingly forever. The only thing keeping them together is mom’s campaign for governor again. I really hate her job. Posing for the ads, newscast, whatever it is. I can never mess up anything, because it might “hurt her campaign”. I try to shove my anger to the side as I go ahead and start opening tabs and documents despite my awful mood.
Sam “You’re going to practice, no if ands or buts.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I mean, hasn’t today bene “exciting” enough? Why should I go to practice and sit for an hour or so, wasting my time? I know his answer… “You are committed to this team.” I turn, still grumbling under my breath as I lace up my shoes. I glance over at my phone, hoping to see a message from Spencer but knowing she probably won’t text me. I mean, if a person I barely knew gave me their number and asked me to text them, I wouldn’t. So I push down the disappointment building as I join my dad in the car, my phone sitting silent in my pocket.
Spencer A hushed giggle passes my lips. I love people online. Who cares if it’s 2am? They make me smile. And laugh. And make me feel whole again. Not discrediting my friends here, no, not at all! It just seems that those online are always there. Good, bad, late, early; everything. I love them so much, and not just because they make me laugh at stupid things. Do you ever feel numb? Not hey-ow-I-hit-my-funny-bone numb, but actually numb. You don’t feel like eating, or sleeping, or talking. Everything is just too much. Well, I feel that way sometimes. And no matter what, they’re there. To encourage me, to give me time to process. It’s as though I can tell them everything, and not fear judgement because they’ve felt the same. And then there’s this new guy… I’m almost skeptical, but I’ve check his profile dozens of times. He seems okay. And I’ve compared his words and actions to what I’ve learned in psychology and nothing seems off. He seems like a genuinely nice person. I realize that I’ve been staring at my closed door, almost dazing off. I jerk my eyes open, and look down to my phone buzzing off the hook. “Well, looks like I’ve reached my limit. Night y’all, love you both” I type out quickly, slightly regretting that I can’t stay longer. As I lay there, staring at my ceiling, I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d texted Sam. Nothing honestly, but the curiosity still eats away at me as I slowly slip into oblivion.
Peyton I shut my laptop, sighing heavily as I roll into bed. Jeez, I hate homework. The clock blares its red numbers, mocking me, reading 2:15 am. I snuggle down beneath my blankets, cursing the bags that I can already feel forming under my eyes. I never seem to get enough sleep. And here they wonder why teenage girls are so obsessed with Starbucks. I roll over once to check my phone, a Snapchat from Kendall blinking at me. I roll my eyes. No way am I checking that. I breathe in the scent of Lavender coating my pillow, wishing it to lull me to sleep.