Know Your Worth

17

I had one final assignment that needed to be finished.

The only problem was that it was too digital. It was one thing to hand draw diagrams for economics, another to create digital graphs using Google Sheets.

Needless to say, I struggled with it.

It was confusing, with the countless features. Who knew that adding grid lines to the graph would be so cumbersome?

I had to review the youtube videos multiple times to make sure my graph looked semi presentable.

The problem was that it was very easy to forget where to find the certain icons that varied the axis lengths, type of graphs, type of lines, thickness of lines etc.

I got frustrated too easily.

Switching back and forth between tabs was annoying.

My eyes start to hurt and water, and I adjusted the screen brightness of my laptop.

I hated it. Even though the Google Sheets graph is more accurate than my lame pencil drawings, I still didn't really appreciate it.

The only thing I liked was that it easily gave me the best fit line.

After three hours, I had managed to come up with a decent graph, a decent essay to accompany it and managed to submit it on time on Google Classroom.

Kayla was also stuck on her assignments, occasionally muttering under her breath and taking routine walks along her corridor.

Every time she ran her code with the checker, she got a red warning and that made her even more irritated.

Apparently, something as small as a missing semicolon was a big deal when writing all those long lines of code.

That seemed pretty rough to me.

I ended up texting Sam for about an hour, and then took a long nap well into the evening.

I missed lunch, which sucked, so I headed towards the cafeteria to see what they had on the menu. It wasn't that great, to be honest. Too healthy. I had to work on my veggie intake though.

Reluctantly, I piled some mashed potatoes with gravy, peas, baby carrots, egg fried rice, a small piece of chicken, and some lettuce. It didn't look as appetising as chocolate cake, but I needed to eat clean. I was precariously in a place where I could end up back again in rehab if I was not careful. I shouldn't weigh ninety-five pounds and I don't want to weigh too much.

Besides, I have avoided weighing scales like the plague.

I try to play it cool by saying my worth isn't determined by the pull of gravity towards me, which is technically what weight is, but I'm not strong enough to handle the numbers.Without thinking too much about what was in my plate, I shoved food into my mouth and chewed quickly. Swallowed it and drank water.

There. Mom would be relieved and proud if she saw me right now.

I feel uncomfortably full eating a full plate of food, after many days of eating snacks. It makes me feel a little sick.

I drink even more water.

When I finish the plate, I make a quick run to the bathroom at the back of the cafeteria. I wash my hands with soap, splash my face with water, and hunch over the sink. I sob a little, chest heaving.

Someone comes out of a cubicle and washes her hands. I glance at the mirror, and a redhead is looking at me, aghast. I hoped she'd ignore me and leave.

"What?" I snapped.

She rolled her eyes and stalked out. I had no patience or a single nice bone in my body whenever I was overwhelmed or upset.

I trudged back up, intending to go back to bed, but I got a little dizzy.

To avoid fainting, I sat down on a leather couch in the Student Lounge. There were more people there than usual, and there was chatter all around.

I closed my head and brought my knees to my chest. Curled in a somewhat fetal position, I focused on my breathing and tried taking deeper breaths.

My cotton T-shirt was slightly soaked in sweat, and I was glad that I had worn denim shorts. They were comfier than tight jeans. My legs felt cold, and I welcomed the chill.

"Hi. You're Eleanor, right?" A male voice asked.

It certainly was not Theo. It wasn't as baritone and soothing.

I opened my eyes reluctantly to a bespectacled boy wearing a plaid button-down and black jeans. He has blond hair and brown eyes, and an unsure smile. He raises his eyebrows hopefully and shrugs noncommittally, stretching a hand towards me, his wrist adorned with a pretty expensive watch. 

Why is he talking to me, when he can clearly see that I am not okay?

He needs a new prescription for his eyesight, but I don't say that. I give a tight smile that probably ended up looking like a grimace. I shrink away from him, hoping he'd get the message that he wasn't really welcome. 

"Hi," I promptly tell him and bury my head into my arm, wishing he'd get the message and just leave me alone to wallow in my misery. 

He doesn't, to my growing chagrin. 

"You're in my business tutorials, right?" He persists, and I groan inwardly. 

"I don't know. Am I?" I managed. I had never seen him before, and I did normally recognise the people in my tutorials. 

I don't want to talk to anyone. My stomach roiled. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to make myself throw up.

I wanted some appetite suppressants.

The thought is forbidden and dangerous.

It has gotten me into big trouble before and I really didn't want to recreate the incident that resulted in me getting rushed to the hospital in an ambulance, with the paramedic reassuring me that everything was going to be alright. 

The blond boy wasn't leaving me alone and it was causing me more stress. I didn't need a stranger to witness my mental breakdown. I needed my privacy. 

"I'm Simon. I wanted to ask you out for dinner, or a drink if you want. Hey, are you okay?"

I stifled a snort. Finally, he saw that I didn't exactly feel like a million bucks. 

Theo would've noticed, that's for sure. 

No, no, he wouldn't have. We are not dating. I need to stay in my lane. He's just a good-looking guy who sometimes caused my brain to short-circuit. I can't afford to waste my time on boys.

Theo somehow distracted me momentarily from my swirling thoughts, and I thought of him as I closed my eyes and imagined his warmth and sharp jawline, his comforting presence and easy charisma.

I wished he was here instead of this Simon guy. 

Simon placed a gentle hand on my forehead, and I'm tempted to swat it away. He needed to learn boundaries and social cues. 

"You don't have a fever," he declared. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock, I snapped internally. I had enough of this guy. If he was not going to get the hint, I might as well leave.

"I need to go," I stood up abruptly and marched up the stairs. I didn't even look behind my shoulder.

He was nondescript and needed to get his eyesight and spectacle prescription checked. Asking me for food or drinks when I was evidently upset and slightly sick was very stupid of him.

I went back to sleep again.

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