The students didn’t even glance back to look at me or offer to help pick up my books. Instead, they hit me as if I were invisible and then continued on their way.
For a split second, I didn’t know if I should’ve laughed, or cried, or screamed.
For another split second, I considered doing all three at once.A hollering cry soaked in chuckles. That certainly would’ve been a great topic for my next therapy session with Raye—my emotions going haywire.
Instead, I let out a heavy huff and started to descend the steps, one at a time, hating the fact that once I reached the bottom step, I’d have to bend over to pick up my books. Bending over had been hurting a lot more lately.
Not only did I limp from the accident, but there were also chronic pains that shot throughout my body every day since. There were lingering pains and forms of suffering that were always apparent to me. Some days it was worse than others. Like that afternoon. My back felt as if it were in flames, and my knees ached as if I were a ninety-year-old with arthritis.
What a normal person my age experienced going down a staircase was completely different than what I’d experienced. Each step felt like a jolt of lightning being shot through my spine and traveling up to my neck.
Some days, I debated what was worse—the visible pain or the internalized issues.
Either way, I was slow-moving.
I had to pause halfway down the staircase to catch my breath. It felt like fire was shooting down my back as I held on to the railing. I hated this. I hated the fact that I was already thinking about how I not only had to make it down the staircase but would have to go back up again, too, to get to biology class.
A big part of me wanted to head downstairs, out the door, and find my way to the cemetery to sit with Mom. Everything hurt a little less when I sat with her. I missed sitting with her. I missed giving her notes. I missed telling her how much life sucked without her here. I missed her.
After my pause, I continued down the steps in time to seesomeone picking up my books. I was about to yell at them for touching my stuff, until I realized who it was.
“Hey, Karla,” Brian said with a tiny smile on his face. The school bell rang, and the hallway emptied quickly.
I felt my face flush, but it wasn’t from pain or exhaustion. It was from seeing Brian’s eyes fixated on me. A wave of dizziness hit me as I held on to the railing and stepped down to meet him at the bottom of the steps.
“Thanks,” I murmured as my heart rate increased. I took the books into my grip and pressed them against my chest, hoping that Brian couldn’t hear how wildly my heart was pounding against my rib cage.
He raked his hand through his blond hair and glanced around the hallway. Brian was so cute. I’d always thought so. He was the first boy I’d ever liked as more than a friend. Before the accident, I was about to ask him to go to the homecoming dance with me, but I never got the chance. Now the idea of ever dating him was very unlikely. He was way out of my league.
He and Rosie went to homecoming together instead.
I saw their pictures online and cried in my closet.
Brian was much taller than he’d been last year, by almost four inches, and he styled his hair perfectly all the time. His eyes were blue, and his smile was one of my favorite things. It wasn’t shocking that Rosie liked him. He was so handsome and kind.
I missed hanging out with him and going to football games to cheer him on.
I wondered if he missed me as much as I missed him.
“Well, I should let you get to class. I’m gonna get my ass chewed out for being late to gym. You know how Mr.Reece can be about people being late to gym,” he said.
I nodded, even though I didn’t take gym class with Mr.Reece. I’d probably never take a gym class again.
Brian turned around to walk away and then paused before looking at me again. “Hey, Karla?”
“Yeah?”
“That was shitty, what those guys did in the cafeteria to you.”
My mind started to spin into a panic, knowing that Brian witnessed me being bullied. I didn’t know why that upset me so much. I felt ashamed that I lived in the same world as him and he could see how pathetic I was.
“It’s fine,” I told him.
He shook his head. “It’s not.” He glanced around the empty hallways once more before stepping closer toward me. “I think they’re assholes,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Me too.”
“OK. Well. Are you good, though?” He moved in closer.
