Suicide to fame

Chapter four

The rest of the day passes in a blur. I pay little attention in class, not even bothering to jot down notes. Lunchtime was…weird. I saw the boy earlier from the hall; he was seating at the “popular table”. Where the self-appointed kings and queens of the social ladder meet up and talk about how awesome they were. For the past three years, I tried to ignore the existence of such ladder in my school but failed miserably. It was like an unspoken rule, everyone knows it, but no one talks about it. And as much as you try to tell yourself you don’t care, the fact that you feel sad about being at the bottom clearly shows that you really do.

I’m not even part of any clique! I’m the outcast. The social pariah.

What made lunchtime weird was when the boy caught me staring at him, instead of just ignoring me, he stood up from where he was seating and started walking towards me. I was in the far back of the cafeteria; no one was occupying the two tables near me so I was pretty damn sure he was headed towards mine.

I check the faces of the people from the table he just evacuated and sure enough, they were all looking at him, curious as to where he was heading.

Oh dear lord, pretty boy, what are you doing?

Pretty boy? Since when did I call him pretty boy?

He reached my table and placed a book on it.

I recognized it immediately, my copy of Kafkha on the shore by Haruki Murakami, well-read to the point of physical disintegration.

“You dropped it.” Was all he said.

I grabbed the book and thanked him, not meeting his eyes. I mean, what else was I supposed to say?

Clearly seeing my discomfort, He left without saying anything more.

Thankfully, the bell rang, signaling the start of second period. I hastily disposed my tray and went off to the direction of my locker.

He was just being nice, returning my book. Although, he could have done it a little bit more inconspicuously.

When the final bell goes, I try to recall one single thing I learned in school today. Nothing comes to mind. A whole day’s education. Math, down the tube; History, up in smoke; even English, out the window. I really don’t care anymore if I fail.

I tell this to dad on the way home, how they are just wasting money by sending me to school, but he just gives me this look on the rear view mirror. I am at lost on what that look meant but I’m guessing he disapproves.

When dad and I got home, my mom greets us by kissing both of our cheeks. God, I hate it when she does that.

“So honey how’s the first day of school?” my mom ask as I hang my backpack on one of the hooks under the stairs.

“Fine.”

“And?”  she says, not satisfied with my answer .

I think of things that happened that might shut her up and remembered my homeroom adviser.

“There’s this new teacher, Mr. Ellis, he’s my homeroom adviser. He’s pretty…neat.”  I say, hoping that might be enough to make her happy.

“Ellis? I feel like I’ve heard that name before.” She goes to the kitchen to ask dad and I took it as an opportunity to slink up to my room.

Someone has been in here. They never bother tidying it, so that means they’ve just been in to snoop. Well, snoop to your heart’s content. You won’t find anything in here. The thing you’re looking for is in my head anyway, and even I don’t know where I left it.

I flop on the bed, grab my IPod from the bedside drawer and let the lyrics of falling in by lifehouse lull me to sleep.

In my dream, I was in the lake again but I was conscious. I could hear someone breathing hard. I tried to move my legs and arms but I was paralyzed. It was cold. Like freezing cold, and I couldn’t stop my body from shivering uncontrollably.

 “I already performed CPR. She’s breathing now.” Someone said.

“We're near the lake. Just..just go here now! I don’t know what to do anymore.” The voice sounded panicky.

“She’s shivering.” There was a long pause after that, then “YOU WANT ME TO WHAT?”

“Fine but you better come here now.”

I hear rustling and then I heardthe voice again, closer to me now. A male voice.

“I’m sorry. The ambulance is coming but they said you might have hyperthermia so I-I need to…take off your wet clothes”

My head was throbbing. I couldn’t understand what he was trying to say so I just nodded. Then, I felt it, hands on my body, peeling off my clothes. I wanted to get away but I felt so exhausted and sleepy.

He must have realized this because I hear him say,

“HEY! You can’t sleep now. You might go into coma!”

I don’t care. I just want to sleep.

“Wake up!”

“wake up!”

“Wake up, Keira!” said a familiar voice.

I bolt out of bed, gasping for air. My face is sweaty, strands of hair sticking to it. I look around and realize I’m still in my room, on the bed. My mom and dad hovering near me, both wearing identical concerned expressions.

“Here, drink this.” My mom says and hands me a glass of water. I gulp it all without pausing.

“You were having a bad dream.” Dad says. “What was it about?”

“Nothing.” I say. My voice came out hoarse.

“That didn’t sound like nothing. You were screaming.” My dad pointed out.

I was? Well that explains why my throat hurts.

“I’m fine now. I just need to be alone.” I tell them.

They don’t look convinced but they leave anyway.

I run my hands through my hair.

Now I know why his voice sounded familiar.