mental | lwt

Chapter 3: Complicated

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Louis

                "How was your first day, Louis?" Mum asked me, and my entire family was gathered around the dinner table. I slumped in my chair, unsure of what to say. I bit my lip.

               "It was, okay," I began, a nervous quaver in my voice. I could feel my mum and all of my sisters staring down at me.

               "What do you mean by 'okay'," she wanted to know, cocking an eyebrow at me while she ate. I shrugged, picking at my spaghetti that I was eating.

               "Well, it was a bit of a stressful day. I mean, it is a new school," I answered, telling the partial truth. "It's hard to put yourself out there."

               "No one was bullying you, were they?" Mum wanted to make sure, and I shook my head in response to her question.

                 I felt bad for lying to her, but I didn't want to make her worry more than she already was. I heard her sigh, twirling her fork into her plate of spaghetti. She raised her cup to her lips, taking a sip of her water. When she finally put the glass back down onto the table, she was prepared to ask me an additional question.

                "Did you make any new friends?"

                  Emma, I thought.

                   I liked Emma.

                   She was a very nice person, and unlike all the other kids, she came over to me. She cared about me and how I lived my life. She didn't make fun of me when I got in trouble for kicking the desk - in fact, she even told me that she thought it was mean how the others mocked me. I thought she was really pretty, too.

                    I had never been around any other girls that weren't somewhat related to me, and it was a cool experience if I must admit. I liked her smile, and I liked her eyes. I didn't know if I had a crush on her, though, because I'm not really quite sure what it means to have a crush on somebody.

                   "Uh, yeah. This one girl ate with me during lunch," I explained to her, and a smile swept across her face.

                   "That's nice. What's her name?"

                     I bit my lip.

                   "Emma," I looked to the floor, "her name is Emma. She's really nice to me, and she has a good sense of humor."

                   "I'm glad you made a friend," Mum smiled at me, and I smiled weakly back at her. "Did you tell her about your.. disorder?"

                    She hesitated before continuing, and I only sighed.

                   "No, I don't really want her to know."

                   "Why not?"

                   "Because," I took a deep breath. "I don't want her to think less of me, and I don't want her to feel sorry for me. Most importantly, I don't want her to be afraid of me because I'm different. I've been judged by people all my life, Mum, and I don't want it to happen with a girl like Emma."

                   "Honey, she sounds really nice," Mum stepped in, fiddling with her fingers as she spoke. "I don't think she would make fun of you."