The Storms Inside

Morning

Jesse ran.

It didn't matter that the muscles in her legs burned. It didn't matter that she could hardly gulp in the air or that the stitch in her side was excruciating. All that mattered was that her anxiety went away, and the voices in her head shut-up long enough to give her some peace.

But when the tightness in her chest made it impossible to breathe, Jesse finally stopped. She collapsed her hands to her knees and tried taking in deep gulps of air as the sweat dripped into her eyes. How could she escape this existence?

She pulled up the collar of her t-shirt and rubbed it over her face. Why couldn't she run hard enough or fast enough to empty her mind? It wasn't fair!

Only when the burn in her chest finally subsided did Jesse straighten her back. She set her hands on her hips, and with her mouth set in a frown, looked around the high school track.

She was the only one there, of course. No one in their right mind would be running just after sunrise.

She felt a little bit better, mentally a little stronger than before she launched her feet across the field... sort of. The crisp morning air was refreshing though nothing like the clean country air she was used to. But if she tried hard, she was almost able to blot out the sounds of city traffic that reminded her she wasn't home anymore. She wasn't running the dirt roads around Miller's Pond, she wasn't halting mid-lap to gaze at the geese that made a perfect V over the wheat fields of Jefferson County. She didn't even need to clean her sneakers from the mud and dirt that accumulated after her off-road runs.

Jesse passed a hand over her sweaty forehead, and wiped the dampness on her shorts. But it didn't matter anymore, did it? Her mom was gone, her dad was ignoring her more than ever before, and she had... nobody. A trickle of sweat stung her eye, and she swatted it away with the back of her hand. It was only sweat; certainly not tears. No, she was done crying.

She picked up her knapsack, and started making her way towards the school. The janitors came at 7 AM, so she could get in a hot shower before the hoards of hell arrived for another school day. She was one week in her new prison, only one week to get accustomed to the crowded halls, constant noise, critical glances and endless expectations.

With her fists clenched, she hurried her steps to the front of the school. Hot water— that's what she needed. Hot water to dull the anxiety away.

Just as Jesse came around the corner of the building, a large black van pulled up in front. It was one of those expensive, high-end mobility vans. She had seen the van waiting after school though she had never stuck around long enough to give it a second thought. But why was it there so early now?

She paused beside a large tree and watched as a man dressed in a dark suit came out the driver's side of the van and hurried around the front of the vehicle. He opened a single large door and a platform almost immediately extended from the interior. A wheelchair rolled onto the platform and when it lowered to the ground, the dark-haired figure set his hands on the wheels and from the platform pushed forward onto the walkway.

Jesse continued watching as the driver said a few words to the one in the wheelchair, who waved his hand dismissively. The driver gave gave him a quick bow and with a final concerned glance at the one in the wheelchair, hurried around the van and drove away.

Jesse put her gym bag on the ground and blotted her forehead again with her shirt. She needed that shower, but it was better to wait until the wheelchair guy went in first. He hadn't seen her yet. And if he hadn't seen her, she wouldn't have to make conversation with him either.

She leaned her shoulder against the tree and watched as wheelchair guy rolled up to the front entrance and leaned over to push the metal accessibility plate to open the doors. He pushed again, but the doors didn't budge. He pushed the plate again and again, but still, the doors remained firmly in place. His head dropped.

And Jesse grimaced. She just wanted to shower. Why was that such a bad thing? She didn't want conversation. She signed deeply and adjusted the hair tie that cinched up her long brown hair. Maybe she should wait a little bit longer and he would figure out the door situation. How hard could it be to open a door?

The guy in the wheelchair lifted his knapsack from his lap and slammed it against the door, before letting out a frustrated cry and hurling the knapsack into a group of bushes beside the doors.

Jesse squeezed her eyes shut. Great, just great. So much for not having to make conversation. She picked up her knapsack and adjusted it on her shoulders before making her way over.

"Hey, need some help?" she said unconvincingly.

His head turned so quickly towards her, it made Jesse take a step back. And as dark eyes narrowed in on her green ones, she immediately regretted her decision to come over.

"No, I don't need your help," he snarled. He pushed a frustrated hand through his neatly cut, jet-black hair and waved his other arm at her as if to push her away. "Just get the hell away from me."

Jesse looked at him in disbelief. What was so wrong with asking to help?

"Well, can you get out of the way then?" she said with a shrug. "You're blocking the doors."

He pinned her with his eyes, and when she didn't look away, his mouth set in a frown. He put his hands on the wheels and jerked the wheelchair back from the door.

Jesse shook her head at the daggers flying from his eyes. All she wanted was to take a shower before the day's hell began. Now she had to take on this guy's wrath too? She didn't need this.

She walked over to the bush and pulled out his knapsack. Bringing it back over, she held it out to him. "Here."

He stared at her, but he didn't make a move to take his bag.

Jesse let out a deep sigh and dropped the knapsack into his lap. "Geez, don't be such a dick. You're not the only one with problems."

He looked up at her in shock. "Did you just call me a dick? For real? Who the hell are you?"

Jesse met his eyes, a spark lighting her own. "I'm nobody. Just forget it."

She reached for the door handle, yanked it open, and then positioned her body against it, propping the door with her leg. She could feel a growl percolating in her throat at the way he kept staring at her. Why did he keep staring?

"Are you gonna go in or what?" she said. "I need to take a shower before the idiot jocks get here."

He continued to study her, but didn't make a move to go through the doors. "I'm Tae-Yeon, but people just call me Tae," he said expectantly. His eyes didn't leave her face.

Jesse blinked, her forehead creasing. His sudden attitude change was nothing short of a 360. "Tae-Yeon? What is that Chinese?"

Tae looked at her incredulously. "It's Korean." He made a tsk sound and shook his head as his gaze dropped lower. "And what's that? Your boyfriend's shirt? Smells like it."

Jesse blinked and glanced down at her ripped, oversized grey t-shirt now darkened with patches of sweat. Her jaw tensed. If any of the "it girls" knew she was wearing one of her dad's five sizes too big hand-me-downs, they'd be merciless.

When she didn't answer, he shook his head and propelled his wheelchair through the door. Once inside, he swung the wheelchair around to face her, turning so quickly, Jesse nearly collided with him.

"You come here to shower, so you're homeless, right?"

Jesse grimaced. "No."

"So, what then?"

"I just run." She wiped her palm on her hip and gritted her teeth. She wasn't about to be interrogated by the likes of him. "That's it, that's all."

"You run at 7 in the morning because you don't want to see idiot jocks? That's hard to believe."

Jesse's eyes widened. She turned and started walking in the direction of the locker rooms. She could feel her anxiety reawakening as her chest started to tighten.

"Hey, runner girl," Tae called.

Jesse sighed and glanced over her shoulder as she kept walking.

Tae motioned with his head. "Thanks. I'll see you around."

Her mouth formed a tight line as she hurried her steps towards the locker rooms. But Tae didn't move. Instead, he inclined his head and watched her jog the rest of the way down the empty hallway.