Her breath came faster, slightly. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to have self-control; then again, there were a lot of other things she was supposed to have.
The numbers writ in blue marker on the board swirled into meaninglessness. Her teacher kept going over the same problem without any visible point or purpose. There was no significance in his words. While she had a theory that no one in the class understood algebra, she hated herself all the more for not comprehending it. Math, numbers in general always raised her stress levels. She had a back-of-the-mind idea that she could be dyslexic.
"Are you getting this, Teagan?" Mr. Gillison asked. He was crouching next to her desk. Where had you come from?
"Are you going to talk to me, Teagan?" Gillison continued. His face was uncomfortably blank, his voice was too soft; it was unsettling.
"I'm fine," Tea mumbled, avoiding her teacher's eyes. Why did he have to check on her every two minutes?
"I didn't ask how you are," he said. "Do you have a problem with me, or my class or something?"
"Please," Teagan said with a hint of tremor in her voice. "I don't want to talk to you. I'm fine, really," her speech was gaining confidence that she didn't actually possess.
Reluctantly, Gillison stood and returned to his teaching. Teagan slouched back into her seat. Unconsciously she ran cold fingertips over her newly raised Marks. Smaller, smaller; make it smaller she told herself. She imagined a round ball of light slowly shrinking to the size of a marble. In her mind she placed it on a shelf and changed its color from pale blue to bright red. It was stored among so many others; too many others. Every orb had its place, its memory.
Mercifully the bell rang, releasing Tea from her jumbled thoughts. She shuffled out of the room. Cruelly, Gillison stood in the front of the room, forcing Tea to walk past him. He tried to meet her navy eyes but she didn't let him.
Easily she weaved in and out of the hallway crowds and entered the girl's bathroom. She rested her hands on a sink and waited for her nausea to pass. When it subsided she lifted her gaze to the mirror. A stranger looked back at her. Tea glared at her reflection and wished it would go away and never return. It would be wonderful to have no mirror image. No one to judge you when no one is around.
For a long while she made new Lines all over her hands. She laughed to herself. Even without the black-knit gloves she donned before leaving, no one would see the Marks. Is it not strange that I am invisible, yet have a reflection?