I had exceptional hatred for Wednesdays, more so than any of other day of the week. In fact after my first month here at 'St. Margaret’s Academy for Girls’ I wished that Wednesday would be blasted off the ends of the new calendar. But the day persisted to exist and simultaneously annoy me for the one but not only reason that my “Consoler” (shrink) meetings were meticulously plotted each week for that day. St. Margaret’s Academy was one of those schools that parents, or in my case aunt, found when searching for a school to send their mentally troubled daughter without taking her out of school or suffering too much public indignity. In others it was for girl’s who either had minor psychological issues or were insanely genius and just couldn’t handle it…I am not the latter!
It’s not that my aunt really cared what anyone thought, she never did, when she sent me to this school but she was really trying to help me. I can appreciate the thought but this wasn’t helping. I just felt I needed to be alone to be able to heal not have some funny looking man with orange hair, of all colors, stare at his note book and mentally take notes. I’d never felt more troubled actually, than when in his presence. I didn’t feel like a normal human anymore, I had nothing in common with my race. I’m sure that if I told anyone they would understand the devastation of losing both of your parents, they’d offer condolences, pitying gazes or maybe even a hug. It’s unfortunate but death is natural and understandable but my situation was normal or understandable. See as I’ve learned through reading many grieving pamphlets there are some rules and even stages to death which clearly spell out death is final. The end! But then how do you explain the fact that my parents are still live? well that’s a contradiction; I mean they can’t be dead and alive! That’d be crazy…so I guess that’s why I’m here.
It’s hard to explain myself properly without sounding crazy so I don’t and then they just pry into me even harder, which just annoys me but this is one secret I’m going to have to bear alone. When you love someone, when you grow up in the company of people and bond with them you feel them inside you. Not in a weird way, but you just know they’re there, that they’re alive even though you may not see them. It’s like your leg you don’t have to look to know it’s there you just feel it. And that part of me that pulsed with the life of my parents is still there still pulsing, in fact it’s screaming. Crying so I can’t forget them, like I have to save them but I can’t--can I?
I pulled open the door to the consoler’s office, like I was pulling open the door to my least favorite place in the world, oh wait, that is what I was doing.
“Osp, didn’t see you.”
I looked up at who I hadn’t seen not see me and collided with. He was a tall looking teenager my age or a years older. He had sandy blond hair which gave him a mischievous Peter Pan type look. He had gray eyes that looked off on first glance but I could get a fix on them as he was very self conscious of them and kept flicking them or moving his bangs.
“Hi.” I said, frowning at him, I hadn’t seen a teenage boy since I’d arrived here wasn’t that like illegal?
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
I didn’t get it. Could I get past him? He was kind of blocking the whole door way.
“I have a meeting.” I said, trying to hint him out of my way.
“Of course you do.”
He didn’t move, well he did but not in the right direction. He lifted his hand up a strange look in his odd eyes. I didn’t think to pull away as he raised his hand to touch my cheek, for some reason I felt like I knew him from somewhere, some place long ago and we’d been close friends. From the way he was looking at me I think he remembered those times which I only felt.
He opened his mouth to say something, but paused. Something I could not hear or sense alerted him, he whipped his hand from my face swearing. I took an involuntary step back as he dashed down the hall with one last fleeting look, leaving me standing with the door opened. What was strange was how easy it was to forget him too.
I was reminded my surroundings by the light flap-flap of a pair of footsteps racing down the hall. Wishing to avoid speaking to anyone I quickly stepped inside the consoler’s office and shut the door. The footsteps passed. I opened the door slightly and peered around it catching a glimpse of Titanic as she rushed around the corner and out of sight.