Finding Me

There was something hard about being the new girl at school.  

Especially a new girl like me. Oh, it wasn't as if I was anything special, at least I didn't think so. Except for the circumstances, I was sure I was the same as a new girl starting a new school anywhere else in the world. 

Voices echoed off the plain white walls of the seemingly endless school hallway, making my stomach churn in nervousness, but not fear. Bodies filled the area, jostling and shoving each other so they could get to their destination quickly. Like butter melting under the hot sun, I relaxed as I felt those bodies pressing against me.  

Until a niggling sensation, as if being prodded with a sharp pin, shattered my calm. 

"What if they don't like me?" I asked myself the same question that had been asked by millions of people before me. 

The tinkling laughter that reached my ears made me turn my head, in time to see a teenage girl, younger than me, staring at me as if I had said something funny. I shifted my head back until I could see flecks of red in the muddy brown hair of the boy in front of me. 

What if they find out about me?  

A lump that felt like the size of a cantaloupe rose to the center of my throat, making it harder to breathe. "Oh, please, no. Not here, not now," I groaned as my inner throat muscles worked to ease the burning ache that had centered at the back of it. My hand soothed my flat stomach as it roiled even more. 

"Chelsea, honey, are you okay?" Mom asked as she watched the blood drain from my face. Her words were like softened honey, only her eyes were as hard as granite. "You can't break down here. You have to get your class schedule and then meet your new teachers. I won't have you doing this to me here." 

A roar of wildness raced through me at her words. Doing this to her? What about me? I screamed silently, my words resonating around my head.  

Moisture beaded lightly on my forehead and I raised a shaky hand to brush away the dampness, pushing back the strand of hair that had fallen across my face. The impulse to hide behind that curtain of hair struck me fiercely, but instead I had to calm myself. Mom was right. I didn't want to lose what control I had here. Not when first impressions counted. 

After taking several deep breaths, I felt my shoulder muscles melt and unwillingly relax. As they did, my mind settled until I had some semblance of peace. Mom smiled tightly, her eyes smiling with satisfaction, even as her lips remained tightly pressed together. Things had been so tense since the incident that it was hard to remember that Mom was going through something as bad as I was - just in a different way.  

Or so she kept telling me. 

It made things so uncomfortable until I felt that being in school was better than being at home.  

But only sometimes. 

There was a time when school had been the worst place for me and I closed my eyes as the memories assailed me.

Only the echo of voices remained in the hallways as I walked from the room where I had had my last class. Mr. Angus, my balding, English Lit teacher, had held me back so he could talk to me about a paper I had handed in a few days ago. My footsteps echoed on the polished floor as I made my way to my locker. The stillness of the air was unfamiliar and had a haunting, almost predatory, feel to it. 

Time swallowed up the distance to my locker, and it wasn't long before I was rummaging through it for the books I needed to take home. As I searched for the books, my mind was filled with teasing thoughts about Mr. Angus and his love for this school. My hand stilled as I heard the sound of heavy, almost uncontrollable, breathing. My stomach clenched into knots of nervousness, relaxing when I saw who it was, only to tense again when I saw his face.