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“Happy New Year’s!”
Faith checked her watch. “Now it’s 2018.”
“A new year, huh.” I said.
“Yep.” She said, then mumbled something under her breath.
“What?” I asked.
“Oh, uh...” She looked surprised, almost like she didn’t mean for me to hear whatever it is she said. “Nothing. Just hoping this year is better.”
“Everyone wishes for that.”
“Maybe this year it’ll come true?”
“I hope so.”
Faith looked back out the window, where some neighbors were setting off fireworks. For a day in winter, there was a surprising lack of snow in the air, or even on the ground for that matter.
The sky was being lit up by flashes of yellow, red, green, and blue. Each time a firework went off, it made a loud BANG sound, and I covered my ears. I’ve never liked loud noises, but fireworks were the worst offenders.
When the fireworks finally stopped, I put my hands to my side and let out a breath of relief.
“Guess we should get some sleep, then,” Faith said. “Oh yeah, I never asked. Do your parents know you’re here?”
“I doubt they’d care,” I said. “They like your family.” I yawned. “In any case, it is late. Getting some sleep sounds pretty nice right about now.”
Faith nodded back. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. Goodnight!”
I waved at her, exiting the room. “Goodnight!”
One thing I knew about Faith’s house is they have a guest room. It was originally supposed to be a nursery, but the mother had a miscarriage. They decided it was too painful to keep it as it was, so they repurposed it as a guest room. Faith used to tell me how the room was haunted, saying she’d get a random craving for hot milk when trying to go to sleep in it.
Then we both realized that wanting hot milk is something a lot of people do.
The room was fairly big, you could almost mistake it for a master bedroom. When Faith’s parents first bought the house, the room was in pretty bad shape. While it wasn’t a health hazard, it was practically falling apart at the seams. The wallpaper was peeling, and the floor was some ugly shade of what it once was. They spruced the room up when making it a nursery, though.
The room has two windows in it. One faces the backyard of the house. While not very big, it gives a pretty nice view. All things considered; this is the second story. Finding a bad view here would be hard.
The second window managed to do that, though. Cause it faces the side of the neighbor’s house. If staring at sun-bleached yellow wooden planks is your thing, then you might actually like this window. Other than that, it’s pretty useless. It doesn’t even get a good breeze.
The room is pretty barren. There’s a bed, a wardrobe, and a desk with a computer monitor sitting on it. It isn’t even connected to a PC tower since that got moved to the dad’s workspace. It’s a nice place to put a laptop, though.
I switched off the light, then fell on the bed. For a moment, something about Faith was keeping me up. It felt like she was hiding something again, but I figured I wasn’t gonna get any answers out of her for a while.
After a while, I fell into a deep sleep.
* * * *
New Year’s Day itself was pretty uneventful. When I arrived home around noon, Faith called me, and we talked for a long while. I was glad she was doing better. Unsurprisingly, Isa didn’t call me at all that day. I figured she was probably mad at me. I figured I’d have to explain to her where I was when we saw each other at school again.
I was right. Well, kind of.
When January 2nd rolled around, I was walking through the halls of the school. Then someone tapped my shoulder. I turned to see who it was, and sure enough, it was Isa.
“Isa!” I said happily. I was excited to see her, and she seemed to be happy too. At least, she was smiling.
“Hey Josh!” She said. “Haven’t seen you in a bit.”
“Yeah, sorry that I missed that party. I was-”
“Oh, don’t worry about it!” She interrupted. “Faith told me what was going on. I’m glad you helped her out.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “So, you’re not mad at me?”
“Nope.”
“Good, I was really worried.”
After that, we walked together in the hallways. She started talking about her New Year’s celebration went. Apparently, there was a lot of noise there anyway. The family all crowded in one spot to watch the ball drop on the TV. I was kinda glad I didn’t go at that point.
I was kinda curious as to what Jack did. But knowing him, he probably didn’t do much for New Year’s. He’s not a big fan of loud noises and lots of people, either. Usually ends up triggering his sensory overloads.
I’m sure he had his own way of having fun, though. He was always able to do that. I wish I had the kind of strength he did.
After the bell had rung, Isa and I waved goodbye to each other. Sometimes I forget she’s “normal.” Or at least, not an outcast like us.
When I entered the classroom, I was immediately hit with a blast of cold air. The teacher, Ms. Taylor, liked having the windows open. I usually liked it too, but not when it’s incredibly cold or incredibly hot. Looking at the open window, the snow outside created a pure white desert. Hills formed atop of snowbanks, and dead trees stood up like cacti. All that was missing was mirages and tumbleweeds. Imagine that, a desert made out of snow.
I sat down at my desk and put my backpack next to me. I sat in the middle of the room, mainly because I was too scared to sit anywhere else. If I sat in front, then all eyes would be on me. I wouldn’t be able to learn like that. If I was in the back, kids would think I’m some troublemaker. Especially because I’m pretty quiet. I was already made fun of as is, I didn’t need more reason to draw attention to myself. Middle seemed like the best choice.
Ever since Spring of 2017, I was never able to get as much work done as I wish I could’ve. I wanted to, but something just always stopped me. It’s not like I forgot. Though sometimes I did. Either way, I never really had the motivation to work.
If the teachers did notice that, they sure didn’t show it. I was consistently yelled at by my parents for not having schoolwork done on time. Nobody ever really asked me how I was doing. Felt like everyone only cared about the numbers.
But I guess that’s what the world is nowadays. Numbers. Which stock has the highest numbers, which sports team has the highest ratio, which golf player has the lowest number, who has the most numbers in their bank account, etc. They say school doesn’t really prepare you for the outside world, but maybe it does. Because the world is numbers.
“Josh,” Ms. Taylor called to me. My head sprung up from my notebook, which had my thoughts in words. I quickly closed my notebook so nobody else could peek into it. I think I’d rather die than having strangers know what my mind is like. Maybe that’s why I’ve never been good with therapists.
After she got my attention, she simply went back to the board. A couple kids around me were giggling. There I was, at the center of attention again. A spotlight I wish I could escape. All spotlights do is blind me.
Half an hour later—which felt like an eternity—the bell had finally rung, which meant it was time for me to go to my next class. I stuffed all my materials in my backpack and ran for the door. I usually wanted to be the first one out of the room, cause I was too easy of a target in a small classroom.
This time, though, I was too late. Some kid threw their leg in front of me, and I tripped over. My head hit the laminated marble floor at the speed of sound. Seriously, I may have broken the sound barrier for half a second.
Above me, I heard mocking tones. “Whoops,” one of the kids said. “My foot slipped.” Then they all started laughing. I hated that sound.
When I got up, I was expecting to get pushed back down. But this time, nothing happened. I turned to the door to see an unfamiliar sight.
Isa knocked one of the kids into the wall with her foot. “Whoops,” she imitated. “My foot slipped.” Then she walked over to me, and grabbed my arm, pulling me up.
“Th-thank you,” I said, rubbing my head. I was checking to see if I was bleeding anywhere.
“I can’t stand those types of people,” Isa said. “How much of a lowlife do you have to be to hurt someone that can’t fight back?”
Isa was still tugging at my arm. “Erm,” I said. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you to the nurse’s.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re hurt!”
“I know.”
“So, you should go to the nurse’s!”
“But this happens all the time, I’ve never went to the nurse.”
Isa looked at me shocked, like I had just told her I feed chocolate to dogs. “You don’t go to the nurse when this happens?”
“I’m usually late for class when I go to the nurse.”
“Who cares? You shouldn’t go to class hurt.”
“But if I’m late, that hurts my grades.”
“Yeah, sure, and which one hurts more?”
“My grades.”
“Says who?”
“My fami-” I stopped myself halfway. I realized I was getting into my personal life with that, something I realized Isa probably didn’t wanna hear about.
I shuffled my feet a bit. “Let’s just go to the nurse’s,” I said. “We’re almost there anyway. I’d be late even if I ran to my next class from here.” Then I murmured under my breath, “Not like I can run.” The swift hit to my legs has put a sharp pain on them. It’d go away in less than half an hour, but it still hurt to even walk.
Isa shook her head. “Fine,” she said. “But we’re gonna talk about this after school.”
“I’m not sure you’d wanna hear about it...”
“Nonsense! You’re my friend, and I care about you.”
“I...” I couldn’t find a way to respond to that. So, all I said was, “Thank you.”
* * * *
After school that day, Isa was waiting for me outside the school. “C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go to my place!”
Some kids behind me said, “Ooooh!”
Isa shot them a glare, and they shut up immediately. She’s scary when she wants to be. Just makes me gladder I’m not on her bad side.
I followed Isa to her house. The streets were no longer black, but instead a flat slate of white glitter. The sidewalks had mountains of fluffy snow. We were able to walk fine in it, it’s a good thing boots exist. When we reached Isa’s house, she took out a key and unlocked the door. I guessed her parents didn’t come home til after she arrived, similarly to mine.
The interior of her house still hadn’t changed a bit since December. She swung her backpack off herself, nearly hitting me in the process. It landed perfectly near the coat rack. I assumed this was a daily ritual for her.
“So,” she said. “What’s up with your family?”
Straight to the point, huh.
“Nothing, really,” I shrugged. “They’re just like any other family.”
Isa frowned. “I don’t think a normal family would prefer their child’s grades over their own child’s health.”
“They wouldn’t?” This was an actual revelation; I just assumed every normal parent cared about grades as much as mine did.
“No, of course not! Who cares about a bunch of numbers?!? People are more important. Family especially.”
“Why family?”
Isa sighed. “Jeez, just how long have you been in the dark for?”
“Dark?”
“You’re sounding like a broken record now.”
“I have a habit of doing that.”
"I'm serious, Josh. Normal families don't look at their kids like numbers. Have they always done that?"
That actually had taken some thinking. I kept thinking back and back, but each memory yielded the same result. Right here, right now, I was at a crossroads. I could tell Isa the truth, or I could lie to her. I doubt she'd find out if I were lying, but it was a thing of trust, I guess.
She didn't know what I was thinking, I wasn't even 100% sure what I was thinking. But every time I talked with Isa, I got this feeling. Like I could trust her with anything. It felt familiar. And it was that familiar feeling that let me trust her.
"Yeah," I said. "For as long as I can remember."
"And you haven't told anyone?"
I scratched my head. "Up until now, I figured it was normal."
"Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I don't get it, though. You don't really show any signs of that."
"Any signs of what?"
Isa chewed on her thumb nail for a bit. "Nothing, forget I said anything."
"Oh... okay?" I said in a questioning tone. I felt like something was on Isa's mind, but I knew I'd never be able to guess what. It's hard to tell what's on other people's minds, though that might not be normal either.
Everything I've lived with, I just always assumed everything was normal. But with something as little as this being opened up, well to me... It was like opening Pandora's box. That small event was what started on me path, and probably why I am where I am today. But I'll get to that later.
"Anyway," Isa said. "You should probably get home before anyone notices. I'll... look more into this for you."
"Alright," I said, waving as I walked to the door. "See you later then, Isa."
"Bye!" She said with a smile. Unlike Faith, I couldn’t tell if Isa's smiles were genuine or just an act.