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Jonah Mchale's junior year of High school was supposed to be different.
Life changing.
He was supposed to win his football championships, get scouted by a first division college team, ace his SATs, go to prom with his long-time girlfriend Nico...
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School starts at 7:50 am and by 8:10 am, I already feel overwhelmed.
My pencil taps dully against my desk, in rhythm to my teacher's monotone flat voice. Mr. Lopez sits at his desk till the bell rings, speaking only in Spanish for 52 minutes. The amount of energy I have to force into my body this early in the morning to pay attention, is faltering today. No matter how much effort I put into focusing, the more I concentrate on his voice, the more I tune him out, and I end up staring dumbfoundedly at his double chin, which jiggles as he talks.
There's even a bit of cream cheese in the corner of his mouth.
Oh god. I'm gonna throw up.
I swallow, as nausea creeps up my throat. My hand goes up in the air immediately, and Mr. Lopez's voice falters, his eyes land on mine annoyed. Nobody ever interrupts him during class. He raises a bushy eyebrow in my direction.
"Can I go to the bathroom?"
"En espanol Jonah." He looks bored. He knows what I mean- he doesn't have to be an asshole.
"El baño, por favor." I manage, the words stumbling out of my mouth.
His eyes narrow. "No tardes tanto." He turns his attention back to the class. "Bien classe, pasa a la página 23 de tu libro de texto."
I grab my phone and exit my class, trying to slink away quietly and undetected from the back of the room, but everyone's eyes still follow me out the door.
I never make it to the bathroom, instead I just linger about, floating from hallway to hallway, my legs never stopping, my head continuously pounding.
The hallways are empty. Quiet except for my footsteps.
I think about all I have to do today. Study for two tests, finish writing an English analysis essay for Thursday, start conditioning, and then on Friday I promised Nikki I'd go with her to see our football game. I won't even be playing. But I owe it to my friends to go and support them, like they've been supporting me these past few weeks.
I stop by my locker and grab a bottle of water and pocket a pill. I don't need it right now, but maybe later. I don't want to be stuck somewhere with my headaches returning and not have one on me.
I slam the navy locker door shut, the sound sending a chilling echo down our hallway.
There's a massive feeling of comfort from having that tiny miniscule pill on me. It's kind of ridiculous really, but I shrug that feeling away. Bury it somewhere deep inside my head so I don't have to think about what that means yet.
I return to class, my headache fading away.
Eyes follow me as I shrink back into my chair. I swallow, grabbing a pencil, opening my notebook and reading question one in our textbook.
