Unrecognizable

1

"I cannot stress this enough - eating disorders do not have a look."

💗

Yulena Hao swings her wiry arm around my shoulders, pulling me towards her. "How was your last class?"

I inhale sharply in surprise, her flowery scent encapsulating me. "Uh, fine. Actually... pretty interesting today. We did a lab that made silver appear. I don't know how to explain in."

"Oh," Yulena says, not even trying to hide her interest. It's a common habit we have to ask each other about our day, even though we both know we could care less. "Fun, fun."

"What about you?"

"Boring," she sighs, loosing her chokehold and letting me grasp air. 

Her hand rests on my upper arm. I clench my teeth.

"You do the homework?" I ask as we turn into the classroom. It's empty other than the gangly Artie Ollum sitting there, one hand going through his curly brown hair and the other swiping through something on his phone.

She giggles, her answer loud even through her silence. "Did you?"

I nod proudly, "I'm way ahead on my homework."

"lucky," she groans and two more people enter the room.

Yulena releases me and I drop my bag on the floor next to my chair, slowly sinking into the wooden seat. I fix my posture as my spine brushes against the wood uncomfortably. Why are chairs so damn hard?

Silence echoes in this room. It echoes in every room in this this one building. The more modern one, where most of the science classrooms are louder, maybe because the people in that class are closer but, regardless, it's less unsettling than this. 

I pull out my phone, my eyes scanning the students as if they'd all fight for a look at what I have going on in my life. They don't look at me, not even Yulena as she stares at her own phone.

I sigh, sinking back into the seat and ignoring the wood against my spine. I need a thicker sweatshirt. 

"Hello class," my teacher, Mr Moorisen, greets as he enters, his back is straight as a board and his silver hair gleams in the terrible, yellow light. His voice is extremely deep yet peppy, something distinct that helps me stay focused in class. 

He pauses, looking over the students in the room so far. "So many phones. Technology is truly taking over the world."

He always talks as if he expects us to finish the sentences for him, dragging off on every other word and giving everyone an expecting look. Eye contact is one of his best teaching tactics. That and cold calling.

Even though he's not looking at me, I give him a cold tight-lipped smile before slipping my phone into my bag. As I do so I tilt my head at the redness on my knuckles; they're surprisingly bright today.

The last few students trickle into the room just as the clock strikes 11:15 and Mr. Moorisen starts the lesson.

"How'd y'all like the article last night? Artie, I especially thought you'd like it," his grin is wide and toothy as he stares expectantly at the startled Oliver.

"It was, erm, interesting," Oliver's vague answer makes me crack a smile and turn to Yulena. At least she's not the only one who didn't do the work.

"Mr. Moorisen, would it be okay if I gave a slightly controversial opinion?" The girl on the other side of me, Brigitta Wiess, pipes. 

I like Brigitta, mostly. She's nice, without being fake, and able to start a conversation so I don't feel pressure to. The way she strings words together bothers me though, her tone uncertain yet her words needing certainty. I'd rather her pick one, not both.

"Yes, Brigitta?" The pause between the two words almost sounds like he forgot her name.

"I thought it was interesting, as Oliver said, but I do think that it has no relevance to our upcoming project. Feel free to explain how it does, though," She smiles and my eyes drop to her denim skirt, tight against her thighs. 

I bite my lip and look back at Mr. Moorisen as he explains. "This, Brigitta, is a story on the writers process, something you all will need to be thinking of this upcoming week. Well- let me rephrase, this is one writer's process and you will need to find, or create, your own."

I can't help but think of my own "process". Nothing until everything on a random night at one until five in the morning. It's pretty sad, actually, how it takes a drastic boost of motivation to do the thing I claim is my favorite hobby. I wrap my fingers around my wrist and smile again at no one in particular.

-

Class is over two minutes past 12:15, a usual for Mr. Moorisen. Sunlight streams across the large table as I stand, slowly packing up my one binder and computer.

I lean against the table for a second once I'm done, blinking fast as if to clear my mind. Yulena throws her backpack over her shoulder and waits expectantly.

I take a deep breath as if preparing to run a couple miles, walking out the door with her and my other best friend and roomate, Jazlyn Tettey. 

"I'm actually so hungry, I was thinking of lunch that entire class," Yulena laughs, grabbing my right hand and Jazlyn's left hand.

"Me too," I say, struggling the grab my phone out of my backpack's pocket. I do so halfway down the stairs, clicking on the time. It reads 12:19 pm. "Oh shit, but I can't."

Jazlyn peaks her head out from around Yulena, her eyebrows hunched together. "why not?" 

"I forgot to do my homework for my next class," I groan as Yulena squeezes my hand.

"I thought you finished it all," Yulena questions.

"For Creative Writing only, not for US History," I reply quickly, trying to keep my voice leveled and not snappy.

"Ah, well, good luck,"Jazlyn says and Yulena takes that as a cue to let go of my hand, giving me a small wave as we exit the building and part ways.

I watch them until they are out of sight behind the cafeteria door before heading towards my dorm room.

My stomach grumbles, and I clench my phone tighter in my hand, as if trying to shatter it. 

I quickly make my way to my dorm room, shutting the door tightly behind me before shedding my sweatshirt. 

My stomach bulges against my jeans and I press on it slightly. It grumbles again.

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, taking my UGGs of and jumping on my bed for a quick 30 minute rest. 

I'll get up a few minutes early to grab coffee, I'm not hungry. Really, I'm not.