My Rules

rule 3

The next day, I woke up feeling unenthusiastic and quite down. It happened to me a lot, truth be told. I'd have days where I felt, in one word, depressed. I wouldn't want to eat or talk to my friends and everything seemed more difficult. It was hard to get a grasp of reality. It had become increasingly common so far this year, and something told me November would be no different.

On that day, I made it to school and immediately went into the toilets. I went into the disabled one that no one ever used and sat on the closed toilet, hunched, not feeling ready to face doing work.

I still went to lesson, sloping into English and sitting at my desk silently, not looking at anyone, just getting on with the work and answering in a low voice when Miss Ennis called my name on the register. I carried out the work to a very low level and slumped at my desk, gazing around wearily.

Days like these sometimes seemed to be the worst.

It came to maths, period five. Normally I would welcome the challenge of Elliott, a new teacher to taunt and observe. But today I just wanted to be left alone. Throughout lessons one to five, as I had been increasingly within my own head, I had become worked up and tears and explosion lurked very near the surface, threatening to come out of my throat. I did not want to challenge or be challenged. If i was less of a little bitch i might have skived, but i was  far too concerned about the consequences to even think about it.

I got more anxious waiting outside maths to go in, tearing at the skin on my thumb. It was a bad habit and one that meant I had a build up of scar tissue on that thumb's knuckle. I didn't like the corridors, with their shoving and general closeness. There's no concept of personal space or spacial awareness. People will walk backwards in corridors, distracted by friends, without thinking that there's someone behind them because they're such airheads, and the-

"Hey, Arren," Fatima was saying to me.

I glanced up, barely seeing her, and mumbled, "Hi."

She frowned. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine."   I flashed a her a smile to ensure the lie would hold, which, looking back, I'm pretty sure would have looked like a grimace.

Rule 3: don't tell someone something they don't want or need to know.

It was amazing how many days I'd spent doing nothing since my parents split up. I hated doing nothing, but sometimes you're too down to do anything else. I'd lie in bed, or wander around the house, or send one of my friends a message only to sink further into sadness when I realised I couldn't hold a conversation with them. And all of this was truly doing nothing, because nothing inside me changed. No feelings, except empty boredom, disappointment and irritation. Thankfully, it only got really bad in the holidays, as the school timetable made it so that I had to function, otherwise there would be a whole list of sanctions available to beat me down further. Detention, bad reports... Bad grades. None of it was worth it.

I only felt empty in the holidays because at school, when you feel that kind of inability within you, there's so much more pressure, and suddenly your emotions are very close to the surface.

The door to the maths classroom opened and I went in, ducking my head when I remembered my face was still fucked up from Laura's attack on me. I didn't want to look at Elliott, so I just dragged my  exercise book off the front table and went to sit at my desk at the back. I opened it and stared at the page for a while, not paying any heed to the starter on the board or the chatter of other students around me.

"Arren."

I vaguely registered my name being said in a direct, authoritative tone, but the thought faded as soon as it formed. I still stared at the harsh white page. the lines blurred a bit.