You don’t know what it’s like to hurt so much all over that you beg for any relief you can find.
You wish someone would put an end to your misery and end my life.
You don’t know how miserable my life is.
“Patrick.”
I stopped writing and looked up when I heard my name. The dean, Mr. Carroll, approached the waiting area. I nodded and put the composition book and pen in my backpack and zipped it up while I followed him into his office. He closed the door gently as I took a seat. I sat quietly while he read over the paper my American Lit teacher had sent me with.
“So, falling asleep in class followed by a class disruption?” he asked. I nodded. He quickly skimmed the other papers in my thick file. “Lots of falling asleep,” he commented. I nodded. He closed the folder and leaned back in his chair to look at me. His gaze made me nervous, and I looked down.
“How are things at home, Patrick?” he asked.
Could he tell what they’d done?
Did he know?
Was I showing signs of something?
I quickly became more paranoid than usual, and a cold chill ran down my spine. I could feel my stomach churn and tasted the bile while my throat burned. All I could think of was what Dad warned me about this morning; not to rock the boat.
“Things are fine,” I lied.
“Are you getting enough sleep?”
“Probably not.” I forced a laugh. “I have bad allergies and take an over-the-counter allergy medicine occasionally. Even though it’s non-drowsy, it still kicks my butt.” I laughed again and tried not to wince when I noticed how pathetic I sounded.
Mr. Carroll was quiet while he looked at me.Was he going to call me on my bullshit? Or did he not want to rock the boat either?
“What’s with the classroom disruption?”
“Kids were laughing when the teacher dropped the book next to me to wake me up. They called me names. Someone said they wished I were dead.” All of this tumbled out of me, and I had to quickly recover so I didn’t sound like I was bothered and affected by what others thought. “Then a kid said my mom licked his nuts, and I overreacted.”
“I’m going to chat with your American Lit teacher and make sure we get it documented about the kids who were saying those things.”
I shrugged. Whatever. It didn’t matter.
“Okay. Sounds good.”
“I want you to try to get some sleep this weekend, Patrick. You look exhausted.”
I am! I can’t sleep at home; are you fucking nuts?I nodded, though.
“Detention after school.”
I nodded again. Detention sounded good to me.
“How about helping the football team today instead of cleaning up the courtyard?”
Helping out the football team sounded much better than constantly bending over to clean up in the courtyard.
“Okay, I can do that.”
“I’ll go talk to the football coach. Meet me here after school, and I’ll take you over to the locker room.”
Sixteen years old/ 10th Grade / November
Itook my time collecting my things out of my locker after school before I went back to the dean’s office. I was somewhat looking forward to helping the football team, though I wasn’t sure what that would entail exactly. I hoped it wouldn’t have a lot of physical labor because the pill I’d taken this morning was starting to wear off. I’d done the courtyard cleanup several times for detention, and it required bending over to pick things up. I was hoping to avoid that today.
