Breathe Me

Publications

You know that feeling when you know you've way overanalyzed the pros and cons of a situation, but you stay up all night going over it again and again and again anyway? And then, when you've finally exhausted yourself, you resolve to sleeping on it, praying the answer will become clear as your Grandma's favourite glass by the morning. But, of course, it doesn't because the reason why you were overanalyzing it in the first place wasn't because you had no clue what decision you wanted to make, but because you knew exactly what you wanted and you were trying to convince yourself otherwise by coming up with a list of every possible way it could go wrong if you acted on that decision. And where does that leave you? Nowhere! Because indecision and fear never resolved or contributed anything positive.

So why do I do it? I honestly don't know. It's not like its ever ended well. But here I am, a senior in high school, and I'lm still making the same mistake that have plagued my life. So no, I didn't call Asher. Instead, I made the brilliant decision of giving up my sleep to worry about what would happen if I picked up the phone to take a call I'ld never make. So, getting back to my earlier question: where does that leave me? Well, at the moment, in a zombie-like state, left pondering how I was going to stay awake long enough to finish my column for the newspaper as I entered our familiar, musty classroom. Taking a deep breath, I muttered a quick prayer of thanks that I was getting picked up after this before opening the door to the chaos.

"Dani, we have a crisis situation!"

I had known Miranda all of my memory-forming life. It all started back in kindergarten when we were made table buddies; and the rest was history, I guess. I suppose if I had any desire to be heard out or speak about what was on my mind, our friendship would've ended before it evens tarted. But as it was, I had always preferred being the ehind-the-scenes, listening type. So Randa took the role as the entertainer while I was her audience, left to listen and support. Sometimes, it all felt like a game, and I was just following the leader. I couldn't complain though; it was better than nothing.

"What's the issue, Randa?"

I set my bag down on one of the long tables we used for meetings, walking past Randa so I could log on to the computer.

"The golf team got cut this year and that's what my whole column was about! Deadline's Friday and I have nothing to fill it with!"

Maybe my lack of desire to hear drama and over exaggerations of things was innate, but I had the feeling it had more to do with the fact that if I was even slightly curious, all I had to do was have a five minute conversation with Randa and I'd receive my fill.

"Relax, that's fine. Instead of the team, write an editorial on student reactions to the budget cuts that result in teams being cut."

Over the years, I had become quite good at placating an often distressed Randa. All it took was a listening ear, a calm voice, and a simple solution that wouldn't result in too much work or effort on her behalf and the girl was back to her bubbly self.

"Thanks, dani1 You're a life saver!" Randa squealed, jumping up into my arms to give me a hug as I was attempting to empty the scanner.

Shaking my head, I laughed to myself, still finding her abundance of enthusiasm unnatural. "No worries."

randa darted off to the publishing lab, probably in a rush to finish her column, so I took the opportunity of peace to get some administrative work done. As editor in chief, it was my responsibility to make sure everyone was on schedule and had what they needed so we could send the spread to the printers on time. Since I couldn't spend all day in the labs, staff members would tack notes onto our bulletin board to let me know of any news or to leave requests. A pair of first years had requested copies of our principal's yearbook photos from when he attended Cornwell, back when the name really suited the area. Having been bestowed the honour of "Keeper of the Keys", I had access to our storage room where we kept publications dating back to the school's founding.