33Chapter One
I sat in the back of the tenth grade advanced English class at Glenwood County High in the northern United States, brooding over the elaborate self-inflicted wounds on my arm. I wasn't really sure why I was doing so at such an awkward time. Perhaps Shakespeare's "As You Like It" wasn't really that intriguing. Maybe this performance was too drab for my refined tastes.
I caressed the marks I'd engraved over the long period since my mother decided to marry that wretched fool, Hubert. My finger brushed over the spiraled character carved just last night with Hubert's laser knife. I'd stolen it from his dresser and replaced it with a pen that looked nearly identical to the knife. A hiss of pain escaped my mouth.
"Miss Sruun Borealis," the cranky aged and balded English teacher grabbed my wrist. "What are you doing?"
"What concern of it is yours? I recommend you release my hand before I sue you for every meager penny you're barely worth." I whispered icily.
The teacher scowled and released my hand. "You should be paying attention to the film. You will be required to compare this performance to the one performed by our very own Thespians." I handed him the essay. He took it and said "This is unacceptable. I want you to pay attention to the film. I am sure you will want to rewrite this essay, your grade is probably dependent upon the quality of this assignment."
"Excuse me sir, but my grade cannot improve. I have a 113.47 in here. The semester is over tomorrow and I have completed every assignment you have assigned, including extra credit assignments, with a full credit score. I have no need to offer any miniscule portion of my precious attention."
The decrepit English teacher left me alone to make a phone call on the class telephone. I knew who he was calling, he was scheduling an appointment for me with the school shrink.
In history, two blocks later, a hall monitor knocked on the door to escort me to the small office of the psychologist in the ear-rumbling tech hall, across from the bathrooms that emanate the noxious fumes of putrid waste when they're filthy, and the toxic aroma of bleach and other chemical solvents when the bathrooms were clean.
"You can wait here in the office for Mrs. Meeley." The hall monitor left.
I looked around the room. Pictures of a short brown puppy adorned the walls. There were more pictures of this dachshund than anything else in the room. Some of them showed the puppy frolicking in a mud puddle; others showed the puppy begging for the most delectable morsel of some crunchy piece of fried chicken being held in front of his face.
The sound of a key turning a lock was heard behind me. The door knob turned and the door eased open but my eyes remained transfixed on the image of that puppy suffering cruel and unusual treatment from a pink bonnet affixed on his neck.
"Good morning." Mrs. Meeley said too pleasantly.
"Hi." I mumbled.
She sat down and ruffled her curly blonde hair even though it already had a lot of body. "So do you have anything you want to talk about?"
I stared at her for a few seconds. "Yes, I want to know all about how you can't afford to give your waiter a proper tip after only an appetizer at a restaurant." I really didn't care about that but I just wanted to make the old hag sweat.
She stared bleakly at me. "Well the waiter does demand a large portion. I think he wants ten percent of my paycheck rather than ten percent of the bill." She chuckled at her almost humorous comeback.
"What's the difference?" I asked.
This time I managed to get the bat to scowl. "Your teacher, Mr. Wellington, informed me that he discovered several abrasions and burns on your right arm, I wanted to talk to you about them."
"You mean these?" I rolled up my sleeve and displayed my markings.
"You must be starved for attention! What is bothering you child?"
What was bothering me? There were too many things wrong with me to describe but even if I could, I wouldn't tell this stranger. Instead I posed a question. "What does the typical teenager do when craving attention?"
"Usually they strike out against society, their grades plummet-"
"Exactly, if you would please, examine my grades for the past semester?" I asked.
She looked at the computer. "You have perfect grades."
"Yes, now look at these marks. Do they look like those inflicted by someone suffering from a mental illness?"
"They look more like tribal markings than self-injurious behavior." the psychologist admitted.
"There you have it." I said. "I am fascinated by the tribal habits of third world nomads. I see no reason for me to be here." I paused on my way out of the room. "Do you?"
The shrink was baffled. I walked out of the room satisfied with my performance. I had carved the abnormal characters in a form of emotional release. Although I did self-injure, I didn't feel a need to draw attention to myself. I understood failing grades and passing grades both brought attention to myself, but I also understood that perfect grades didn't need an explanation.
I didn't bother going back to class; I only had three hours left of school so I just stepped outside a door left unlocked. Glenwood County High School was too far away from the city to comprehend the notion of one of their students deliberately walking out of school. The two police officers that patrol the town didn't have the brains to consider such a trifling idea; they were only with the force because they had the stomach for the free donuts given by the local cafe.
I found myself walking into the soft dirt parking lot of the local strip mall. It was the closest thing to civilization this quaint town could offer. In this strip mall was a general store with the cafe inside, a cheap thrift store, a hair salon, specializing in the outdated, and a useless auto repair shop. There really wasn't much to do in this town. I considered getting a snack from the cafe but decided against it.
Rather than risk confrontation, I walked home. I knew Hubert wouldn't be there for a few hours. That gave me time to relax, at least in peace. I got home and locked the doors. I wasn't worried about any intruders; Glenwood County was far too small for crime to exist. I just wanted to make life difficult for Hubert.
Five and a half years ago, my father died of an undiagnosed brain tumor, leaving my mother alone to raise me. I had adored my father; he was the only one who truly understood me. Less than a month after he died, my mom was dating again. Barely a month after that, my mom had married Hubert. Hubert seemed fine at first but he regularly insulted my deceased father. Honestly, I don't think Hubert really loved my mother; I think he just enjoyed her figure because soon after their honeymoon, my mother informed me she was pregnant. Sadly, my mother and half-sister died in childbirth. I was left in the custody of Hubert. It seemed after my mom died, I would catch Hubert making out with a different girl nearly every week.
I walked upstairs to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. The person staring back at me wore baggy black pants with narrow silver chains, a simple black t-shirt, and a long flowing black overcoat. Her silky black hair was about shoulder length with some of it pulled back, a lock of hair tapered on the end on both sides of her head in front of her ears, and her bangs slightly in her eyes. The tone of her skin was soft and pale; it wasn't likely she'd been out in the sun much. She had no make-up on but it didn't really appear she needed such frivolities. She had slender-rimmed spectacles to help her poor vision. Other than those things, there wasn't much to see.
I undressed and took a shower. I got out of the shower after nearly an hour. I didn't care that the water bill would be high. Hubert didn't even bother buying anything for the fridge, except beer. The least he could do was pay for a little extra water. I went to my bedroom, locked the door, and put on clean clothes. Upon discovering the location of my remote, I turned on the internet radio. The radio scanned the temperature and humidity of the room to determine the perfect music to play to match my mood.
A few hours later, Hubert came home. "Sruun! Get down here right now!" I waited until he yelled again to leave my room.
"What?"
"Get your bags packed. We're going camping."
Now isn't that just lovely? Remember, reviews are always welcome! Thanks for reading and feel free to read my other works!