His name was Alekzandar. The man with the easy smile and messy brown hair. I remember the first time I met this awkwardly, over optimistic being. He was just a boy then, but there was something about him. His very existence somehow called to me…
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Pushing and shoving, the natural motions of the hourly change of shift at Evolution Charter. There’s a certain norm to being pressed against the cold metal lockers; aged blue paint flaking onto your clothes. Voices fighting just as hard to be heard as their owners attempt to move forward. People like me, we aren’t typically noticed so it’s easier to get past if we keep our heads down.
But this time, it felt like time was moving slower than normal... so slow I couldn’t keep myself from searching the crowd. There he was, laughing at the ridiculousness of the herded movements. My eyes became suction cupped to the dark brown irises that had found their way to my own. In a matter of milliseconds I had forgotten what I needed to be doing in that moment. Big mistake... the next thing I know, my knees are slamming against the concrete tiles of the hall. Books scattered, my fingers are being crushed on foot after another. The bell makes its annoying buzz forcing everyone to commit to a last second rush. Not quick enough to get back up, I try to make myself as small as possible to avoid becoming a floor mat.
There is something terrifying about being jostled, pushed, and stepped on by a large crowd. The attempt to curl up does little to mitigate the encounters. Between the unintentional violence of rushing students and the indistinguishable voices, a rush of fear comes over me. Closing my eyes and covering my ears, I try to imagine myself somewhere else...anywhere else. The seconds tick by like hours and the next thing I know, someone’s hand is on my shoulder instigating a skittish flinch. Slightly lifting my head, I see a familiar face. Mr. Rodrigues searches my face with concern as he exaggerates his breathing.
“You’re okay. Just breathe, in-out.” His friendly voice helps to bring me back to reality. Carefully inching myself to lean against the closest locker, my brain begins to register my surroundings. The hall is clear with the exception of two late stragglers dashing out of the nearby girl’s room. The pounding in my ears and heart struggle to decline as my sight travels to the shaking hands I own. Mr. Rodrigues returns to his exaggerated breathing providing a guide for me to regulate mine. I lean my head back against the locker and try to use the empty hall as a source to force away the symptoms. About five feet away, the boy from before is using the doorway of Mr. Rodrigues’s room as support while watching us. Matching eyes with him again, my breathing comes to a slow and I think he notices this because a small nod is given before he disappears into the room.
“Better?” My homeroom teacher tilts his bald head to get a good look at my face. I nod quickly. “What happened?” My eyes travel back to his classroom, he follows to see what I’m looking at. Knowing I have no intention to answer his question, Mr. Rodrigues pulls a small yellow pad and pen from his pocket.
“Go get some rest. We can talk about it later.” My hands are still shaking as I accept the flimsy yellow note he gives me for the nurse. Before I can respond, he sticks his head into the classroom and comes back with the strange boy. “He’s going to go with you, we can’t have you traveling alone.” With a hesitant nod, the teacher disintegrates into his domain.
The boy steps closer to me offering a hand. I just stare at his face for a millisecond before getting up on my own. With a squint and a sigh, he drops the extended hand dissatisfied. He turns to scoop up my books, prepared to offer them to me. Using both hands, I accept only to drop them again with a painful grunt. My entire left hand is throbbing in agony from the amount of feet that had stomped on it earlier. He takes it into his own, turning it in different directions with an inquisitive look on his face. Once he’s satisfied with the examination, the brown haired boy retrieves my books again. This time refusing to give them to me. A hand on the my shoulder, he pushes me forward towards our silent journey to the nurse’s office.
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The overly repetitive bell buzzes forcing me to wake from a much needed nap. It takes a moment for me to recall the events leading up to my date with the fabric cott beneath me. Taking a deep breathe, I fight the urge to curl back up and return to the secret world in my dreams. The creaking squeel from the fake bed causes Ms. Pasqual to spin around on her desk chair.
“It’s been awhile hasn’t it?” The large woman rolls herself a bit closer to dodge the light of her side of the room. Sitting in the dark I choose not to respond as I slip my black shoes over the long white knee highs. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” Trying to play dumb, my head stays ducked as I shrug on the maroon blazer. Her suspicious eyes hold a strong pressure on me as I avoid contact.
“Your panic attack…”
“I’m fine.” Pulling my hair into a messy bun helps to dismiss her concern in a seemingly nonchalant way.
“You’ve been sleeping for a good three hours. What happened? What triggered the attack?” She presses like her life depends on it. She jumps at the sound of my hands slamming down on the over stretched fabric of the cream colored cot.
“I fell, got stepped on, freaked. That’s it. Like I said… I… am… fine!” Grabbing my two textbooks and pink binder, I stomp over to her desk to check the time. She follows along in her rolling chair silently. Avoiding contact, I shove her pad of hall passes from the corner of her desk to the center. She stares at me for a second before writing me a pass to the rhythm of my impatient foot tapping.
“I’m going to email Mr. Rodrigues. You need to have a debrief with him during activity period today.” She hands the slip to me, but doesn’t let go until I give her a quick affirming nod. “Good. I’ll be here if you want to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about…”
“If you say so. Off to lunch with you.” Closing my eyes to recompose myself, I let out one last sigh. Give her a thankful smile and head off to get join my grade at lunch. Just as I am about to leave the room, he shows up again.
“Oh! Hey, I was just coming to check on you…” He’s a good three inches taller than me, so it takes a second for my eyes to move up to his face considering how close he’s standing. “You look better. How’s your hand?”
Without asking permission, he helps himself to grabbing hold of my left hand. Refusing to let him get a good look I snatch it back and push past the stranger. Following behind he continues to try getting my attention. I wait until we are far enough down the long, empty hall and out of earshot before looking back to him.
“What?!” I give him a suspicion detecting once over as he answers.
“What’s your name?” He flashes me an easy going smile while stepping forward. I wait in silence for him to say something more interesting, but he doesn’t.
“Does it matter?”
“You know I am the one who sent Rodrigues out to you.”
“I figured as much, otherwise it would mean you’re just a creeper that likes watching people do strange things.” Apparently my response is overly icy because he feigns being shot in the heart.
“Hey, be cool chica.” Something about the way he talks is making me feel really relaxed. Trying not to let myself fall for it, I hug my books tighter and strengthen my glare.
“You sound like you just jumped out of a bad spoof on the 90s.” Instead of pushing him away, this just makes him laugh.
“Well, at least I’ve got you interested.” A confident air begins to flow from him sending shivers down my spine.
“Not really. So, if you’re done…” My heels start shifting to turn myself back around. He stops me with his hand on my shoulder.
“You’re a junior right?” I don’t answer. “Cool, we can walk to lunch together. Everyone’s eating out back today.” He starts walking ahead of me as I simply stare at his back speechless.
The audacity of this dude. He doesn’t accept that and starts pulling me along by my arm. I’m struggling to keep up with him, so it feels like I’m being dragged. An icy thought freezes every part of me at the feeling. The image in my mind is worse than what is really happening, but all I see is a dark school hall and a dominant figure violently dragging me down it.
“Let go of me!” Terrified I scream at the boy that instigated the image, yanking my arm free from his grasp. My hand flies across his handsome face before I even realize where we are. Standing in the center of the cafeteria, the line of people waiting for their food is staring at us. I stomp my foot angrily and head out the door to the court yard.