Chapter Text
Day one. Again. I can’t believe how many times I've said that in the past few months. Anyway. I’m starting at a brand new school in nowhere, New Jersey right in the middle of the year, and there is no worse fate for a highschooler. I have never been here in my life, I have no idea how to get around the school, I don’t know anyone, and people already have friends and routines anyway. The day is starting in ten minutes and I may as well have been launched into another dimension. The only consistent thing is the red-bricked prison before me, where I'm always the most awkward inmate. So lost in my own thoughts and worries, I crash straight into someone, my books clattering to the ground with the impact. A girl my age, I notice as my head darts up.
“Sorry,” I mumble, a raspy voice pulled from my dry throat. I quickly bend down to gather my books and pencils from the cold cobblestone steps. My dark hair falls in curtains around my face, shielding the tomato color from the world as warmth slithers up it, heat emanating from my body. Doing stupid, klutzy things already. What a great start!
“It’s okay”, the girl replies. “I'm Marie Alfanso.” There’s a pause. I nod cautiously, her melodic voice still echoing slightly in my ears. Why does it matter what your name is if I clearly have no idea what the hell is happening? And why— “The student body VP and gymnastics team captain.” Oh. That’s important. I look up. Marie's dark green eyes are sparkling like emeralds in the clear winter sun, her cotton candy lips pulled up in an expectant smile— sweet, practiced. A Cheshire cat in her own right. I’m trapped in that gaze, given too much information to think. To process.
“And you are?” Shoot.
“Um” Name. Right. Who the hell even are you? And why is this person being nice? No one is ever this nice to you, especially not someone you just bumped into. Literally. I have absolutely no idea how to react. Uh, maybe start with your name, idiot, my thoughts ridicule. Shut it, I tell myself. How can someone give their thoughts tones? Emotion? Hatred?
“You alright…?” Marie trails off, a mix of concern and something else painting her face. You still haven't said your name, fool.
“Right! Yeah. Um. Yeah. I’m ok. I mean. It’s, um. I’m Jane Arlend. I’m new, it’s my first day.” I force out in a barely audible voice, stopping myself before I ramble on and reveal something stupid. My arms pull my now out-of-order books tighter, a desperate attempt to stop them from spasming and my fingers from twitching uncontrollably. Hold it together. Marie smiles, a genuine smile, so far from the smirk I have grown to expect when I open my mouth.
“Well, Jane,” my heart seems to stop at the way she says these words, sly and cunning. “I hope I see you in class sometime”, she chirps. The unexpected warmth is different from her previous words, less like a game…
Class! Shoot! Blood rushes to my ears and I have to tamp it down to respond. “M-me too,” I stutter. Idiot. First you forgot that you have class, and then you forgot to be polite? And you can’t even talk properly!
“I’m gonna go…”
“Yup! Right, um. Right. Bye!” Really? With a toss of ombre auburn hair, Marie struts off, leaving me standing, mouth agape, heart pounding, and whether it's from fear, or something else, I can’t tell.
***
The bell rings ten minutes later, and I still haven’t found my class. The hallways all look the same and I have no idea where to even look. And my head is still spinning from earlier. A clearly popular girl was talking to you. You, of all people. She must be really nice to do that. Or, you know, popular? Needing to keep up appearances? Oh. I stop short in the middle of the hallway. Of course. Why did I not realize that? How stupid am I? Of course she was just being nice. I’m new. She would never act like that if she actually knew me. My heart starts pounding as I remember how I acted. Every embarrassing tic and stutter played out in slo-mo for the panel of judges inside my brain. Damnit! It hasn’t even been a day and I already screwed up my chances of finding friends. Marie is popular. Half the school could know about me by now.
“Excuse me?” I jump about a foot in the air before realizing that someone is talking to me. I slowly turn around, bracing myself for trouble. A woman in a charcoal gray pantsuit stands behind me. A teacher. You’re late for class. Well. Now that's a great reason to get into trouble isn’t it?
“I’m so, so sorry, I know I shouldn’t be here, but I can’t find my class and everything looks the same and I got lost and then—” a gentle hand on my shoulder cuts me off before I can finish my breathless rant, causing me to flinch.
“It’s okay. You’re Jane Arlend, correct?” I just nod, wide-eyed stare boring into the woman’s neck. Anywhere but her eyes. She has a small, intricate dragonfly tattoo. Interesting. “My name is Ms. Eris. I’m the principal” Well that’s not good is it? “You were supposed to come to the main office, but I guess no one told you. That, and you got lost,” Ms. Eris lets out a small chuckle, remembering my spiel. Red paints my cheeks and I just wish the floor would swallow me whole, leaving no trace. My new principal must notice my face because she quickly backtracks, asserting “you’re not in trouble. I understand that first days can be hard. And it's completely okay to be nervous.” Thank whatever divine entity is watching over me today. “If you’ll just come with me, we can get you situated and to class.” My head nods, and I quietly start padding after her, my limbs being puppeted by something out of my control.
The next five minutes are just whirlwinds of static as I sign some documents and nod some more and finally am dismissed, with a map and a schedule this time, to class.
I’m shaking as a track down the right door, praying that I make it to class before the halls are flooded with waves of noise. Room 206. Second floor. I feel like I'm in that horror movie my sister told me not to watch, but I still did. The empty hallway feels too cold. My body feels too warm. Just go inside. I watch as my hand reaches to grab the handle, before freezing. Again. My hand reaches out, before once more freezing, this time pulling back. And reaching out. Just open the door! It’s not a big deal! Idiot. I take a deep breath and try to school my expression into something resembling normal. I still haven’t quite figured that out. Finally, I grab the doorknob, twist, and pull. No going back now. I slowly walk in, feeling the eyes of a million strangers boring into my soul. What did I do wrong? I just got here. They couldn’t have heard about what happened, with Marie… could they? No stupid, it’s because you’re late. They’re just being kids. The world doesn’t revolve around you, you know. Thanks a lot, thoughts. Real helpful there.
“Welcome. You must be our new student,” A voice cuts off my spiral. “My name is Ms. Allen. Would you like to introduce yourself?” Do I have to? Teacher said so. Probably. I nod and make my way to the front of the class, my mind screaming danger. I do not want to be here. I study the people who will hopefully become my friends. They looked nice, if a little judgy. A sea of blond, black and hazel hair, faces with no names. No eye contact. Fine by me.
“Um, hi!” Pathetic much? “My name is Jane Arlend.” More like Jane Doe . “I’m fifteen years old, a girl scout, and a gymnast.” Really? You just met these people and already you’re oversharing. Girl scout? They’ll think you’re a child. Shut up. “I love reading and drawing.” I manage to speak without stuttering, for once in my life. It’s quiet. Too quiet, for a classroom of ninth graders at eight in the morning. I look up. When did I looked down? I need to work on that. Everyone is staring. Again. Maybe they never even stopped in the first place. It’s not much better. I just want the floor to split open and swallow me whole. To save me from my misery.
“That’s really cool.” said an icy, sweet voice from the endless crowd of eyes. Like a popsicle. Maybe we can be friends. “What kind of gymnastics?” Why does she care? No one ever does. That’s not true. I take a deep breath.
“Just…gymnastics. Nothing special."
“Really? I would have thought it was mental gymnastics,” she mutters to the girl next to her. Her tone is snide. Sarcastic. Mocking. Her friend laughs. I feel an icy cold washing over my entire being, rooting me to the ground. I can’t think of a response. I don’t even think they know I heard. I take a deep breath. Exhale. Another. Don’t lash out. She can’t know.
“I’m sure we would all love to hear your fascinating tales,” Ms. Allen supplies. I’m sure. “But right now, we really have to work on today’s lesson.” I nod, shivers climbing up my spine, and quietly find an empty seat near the window on the left side. My heart is pounding in my ears, white noise filling them as I desperately try to concentrate. Not now! There wasn’t even a trigger! It doesn’t help. Lying never did. Slowly the sound of rapid clicking pulls me from the numbness. It’s me, my purple nails rapidly tapping against the shiny plastic of the desk. The clicks are soothing, like a balm to a sunburn. But people are staring. It’s loud. It draws attention. Stop. This always happens. People can’t know. It takes too much to stop, but I can’t not. I force my fingers to still, pale skin, too pale, laid flat against the cool surface of my new desk. I hope I don’t collapse, the all-too familiar feeling of death already starting to creep up on me. A chill pervades tissue and bone, violating, enveloping my mind, blurring my vision. I’m sure that my breathing is panicked and rapid, drawing everyone’s attention, but I can’t find it in me to care. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong. My skin itches, a tightening glove that can never come off. You never should have stopped. You know the rule. I do. It’s haunted me since before I can remember. Don’t stop. If you stop, you die.