Chapter 4

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The next day was picture day. My mom takes these kinds of things seriously just like award day and graduation day. The night before, she told me to wear Owen's polo shirt ( Which is hideous as hell. ) She insisted on doing my hair and putting gel on it.

"Ma, it's too hot for gel. I'll start sweating and it will run down my face and just ugh. Don't put too much."

She grabs a comb and combs it back, leaving one strand out. Gosh, I look like Elvis.
"You'll be fine. It's only for today," she says. "We have to make sure you look good, you know... we'll be buying these pictures for your grandparents so smile real big.

My grandparents live in Canada. I love them, but sometimes they creep me out. Like one time me and Owen were forced to sleepover at their house ( Which is at a small cottage in the middle of nowhere, ) while my parents went to a friend's house to get drunk or whatever.

They were just too nice to me. I think of them as Coraline's other parents, only they don't have buttons in their eyes.

I hate how my mom babies me all the time, but part of it makes me feel safe; like she loves me so much, because she does.Sometimes I wish I didn't have to grow up. Next year I'm getting my drivers license and will be looking for colleges to attend but no matter what, I'll always be a momma's boy.

My mom drops me off at school and I head straight to the restroom because there's already tons of people staring at me and they're probably thinking, "Gosh he is so extra." I'm just glad she didn't make me wear a whole tie like last year.

On my way there, I see Imani and Charlie talking by his locker. She's wearing an all black shirt with her hair in two little buns.

"I knew she'd make you wear something like this," she says laughing.
"Very funny. At least you look good right?" I say. Charlie grabs his books. "Hey, um I have to study for the geometry test this afternoon.. I'll see you guys at lunch?" Me and Imani both nod, but when he walks away she buries her face in her hands and groans.

"You okay?"
"Not really, I feel horrible. My chest is killing me and my legs are so cold."
I grabbed her hands and pulled it from her face so I could see her. She has little freckles all over her that look like stars. Sometimes I wish I could just connect them all together.

"Are you sick? Maybe it's allergies? I mean, the weather is changing.."
"No, it can't be. Allergies aren't supposed to hurt."
A long silence follows because I don't know what to do or say so instead I just give her my water.

"Maybe that'll help with your chest pain."
It looks like she's about to say something, but the bell rings and kids start to flood the halls. Today is an A day so we don't have the first 2 classes of today together.

"Um, see you at lunch?"
"Right. See you there. I hope you feel better then."
She smiles and walks off into the crowd.
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Have you ever been torn between what's real and what's fake? Well if you were to ask me that question, I'd say yes. My mind is constantly full of comparison and doubt, and sometimes it all becomes too much.

When Imani left this morning, I was sad again. Maybe because I can't stand the thought of being alone. Or maybe because when no one is around, I fall apart and she's the only real friend I have. I hope she feels the same.

My parents are making me go to therapy starting tomorrow after school. They say it isn't normal to feel like this and maybe they're right, but I don't see a problem. So what if I'm emotional all the time? It's a sad world.
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When my mom dropped me off at school, I walked to Ms. Kern's class to eat my muffin. Cafeteria's scare me. It's too many people and I don't know anyone there.

Ms.Kern is my Photo journalism teacher.She dresses weird and she walks with a cane. It has to be her last year because she's getting too old for this. I knock on her door softly before walking in. She looks up from her computer and smiles.

"Hey Dyl," she says. "Hey."
"I took a few pictures last weekend for the assignment," I say as I drink my cup of orange juice. "Already? Nice," she says. "They're not due until Friday, but you can turn them in now if you'd like."
I've been taking photos since I was a little boy.

Something intrigues me about pictures. They tell a story, and keep my memories alive forever.
"Okay," I say.
Ms.Kern continues typing away on her computer and I don't say anything else and finish my muffin because the bell was gonna ring in any second now.

Imani didn't show up to Chemistry, nor has she texted me yet about where she is. It's not like her to miss school, but I don't want to assume anything. Maybe she just overslept, ( which isn't like her at all.)

I pull out my phone to send her a text.
Me: Hey. Whereve you been ? Are you okay? Call me when you get this.
I laid my head on the desk and waited for her to call. She never did.
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When the school day ended, instead of walking home, my mom picked me up and took me to therapy.
"I promise I don't need this mom," I say when she pulls in front of a big building with a ton of windows on it. She sighs lightly. "I just want you to try it out just for this week, okay?"
She had a worried look on her face, and I started to feel bad so I just nodded.

Let's just say it wasn't all that bad. The lady gave me a stress toy to play with while she asked me questions like "How have you been feeling these past couple weeks," and "What's been stressing you out lately?"

I told her how I've been emotional and crying for absolutely no reason most of the time. Part of me wants to mention 'her' and how I feel like I can't function without being around my best friend. My mom was next to me the entire time.

I never look at her because I was afraid she was crying and seeing her cry makes me want to cry too.

The lady never took her eyes off me while I was talking, and when I would stop to think ,she'd write a few things down. When she told me that I might have separation anxiety, my mom lost it. She grabbed a few tissues out of her purse and started to blow her nose. I didn't know how to feel.

The whole evening was a blur.When I got home I took a shower, watched a movie with my brother, and fell asleep. Later that night, I was woken up by my mother. The devastating look on her face woke
me up instantly.

"What's wrong? What happened?"
"Imani's in the ER. Something bad happened." She turns my light on and gives me my shoes. "We have to go now. Hurry."

We sat in the waiting room for 35 minutes. It was full of weird people, and I'm not saying that to be mean. My mind was blank. I felt upset and anxious and my stomach felt tight. Imani's mother walked down the hall to us and she hasn't aged at all. She had the same old afro from our first sleepover we had years ago, and the same pretty smile.

"She's in here."

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