Leaving Laurabelle Falls

Chapter 7

Madelyn unzipped my backpack with a sharp zzzrrrrp, shoving the notebook into the main pouch. I didn't help at all; I knew I would do it slower than she could, anyways.

"Thank you." I said, flatly. Then, I glanced towards Miss Cara. "And we're deviating course today. We have to go to the office."

"...Do we know how long that's going to take?" Madelyn asked, her face lightly turning red. "I have Mr. Turner next period, and he's kind of a stickler for being on time."

"You have your excuse." I reminded her, flatly. I didn't know how she was still afraid of Mr. Turner. We had faced literal monsters made of darkness and anguish together; surely, some part of her must remember?

"That doesn't stop him from being a dickhead." She responded. Still, she walked around the back. She grasped the handles, and continued pulling me back. My pencil was still grasped in between my fingers, and I began to slowly twirl it as she walked me to the elevator.

The hallways seemed a little less full when everyone was moving for you. The sea of highschoolers parted ways when they saw me coming. It was like a social contest of who could take up the least space to give me more. I had to remind myself that I should be used to being stared at.

It was only a week into school, anyway. The boom of popularity would fade. Especially whenI got to ditch the chair.

That was, if getting back to Laurabelle Falls even took that long.

"I hope this is worth it." Madelyn grumbled. The elevator dinged, and she stepped inside. I stayed facing the wall as she turned to press the button to take us down to the main floor.

There are few times in my life when I have truly wanted to hear elevator music. This was one of them, and that should give you an idea of how painfully awkward the ride down was.

I could hear the sound of her chewing gum over the sound of the ancient elevator gears grinding. As I stared at the wall, I wondered whether or not we were high enough up that a quick snip to the cables would, in fact, kill us.

Everything that I could have said felt like it was jammed in my throat. My tongue felt too thick and heavy in my mouth for me to speak. My head hurt at the thought of saying the wrong thing.

The elevator dinged again, and the squeaking of sneakers and echoing laughter poured in as the doors opened to the main floor.

Madelyn pulled me back out, stopping briefly before pushing me straight towards the office. My legs knocked against the wood of the door, hard enough to make me grit my teeth.

"Sorry!" Madelyn squeaked. The woman behind the front desk had already gotten up, and grabbed the back of the door. She held it open a little further, saving my knees from further being beaten. As much as I loved Madelyn, I knew that I was going to have more bruises with her than I would have without her.

"You're okay." I lied. I wished that she would stop helping me at this point.

When you know your best friend is suffering for the greater good of humanity and you can't say anything, it makes for some conversational lulls. Talking to her wasn't what it used to be.

Still. I wasn't able to say no to the familiar presence.

"Get going," I told her, gesturing towards the door with my head. "You have to get to class before Mr. Turner has an aneurysm."

"Right." Madelyn said, nodding. She looked down, her eyes sliding slowly across the floor tiles, before leading her to look back towards the door. I half-expected them to flicker back to me, but they didn't. She shrugged her backpack back onto her shoulder, and walked towards the door.

It shut all too slowly behind her. I felt unable to take my eyes off of it. Every inch it closed, it felt like it was sucking a little bit more of Madelyn out of the room.

"Oh, good," came a chipper voice. I turned, my eyes darting towards the new sound. It was Daisy, my guidance counselor. She continued, "You're already here. I was expecting that to take longer."

I looked at her skirt. It was covered in daisies, her namesake. It had a split up the side that definitely would have gotten one of the students sent to this very office, had they worn it. I wondered who had gotten it for her, and how she had the nerve to wear it.

"Problem child reporting for duty." I responded, raising my right hand and pressing two fingers to my forehead in a mock salute. "You here to whip me into shape, Sarge?"

Her laugh was just a little too sharp. It echoed in the small room. She cut herself off just a little too fast, clearing her throat and waving for me to follow her back. She half-turned before she froze, remembering herself. She turned back.

"I'm so sorry," She gushed, shaking her head. "Do you need help with your chair? I can push you if you'd like."

"Nah," I responded, "I can go smaller distances on my own. The doctor says that it's good for me to try and push myself."

I shoved my hands down and gripped the wheels, ignoring the aching in my muscles as I pushed myself along the carpeted hallway. Luckily, her office was the second door on the left. Just far enough to make good exercise.

I could still feel the dampness on my skin by the time I made it. I don't know what it is about being in a coma, but I swear it made me sweatier.

"Hey there," She said, stepping behind me to grab the handle of the door. She pulled it shut with a soft click. "Let's talk about the call I just received from Miss Cara."

"She asked a question and I didn't answer." I responded, bristling.

"Right," Daisy said, slowly. She sat down, her chair squeaking under her weight. "And it would be one thing if it was an isolated incident."

"It was." I responded, my eyebrows pulling together and my lip pulling back. "I don't know what you're trying to imply, but I haven't been disruptive once."

"When a student that a faculty member cares about stops caring for themselves, it creates a disruption all on its own." Daisy said, folding her hands together. "You haven't been performing like you usually do. Miss Cara just wants to make sure that we're keeping up with you."

I could have rolled my eyes. I had a pile of homework to get through, and I wasn't about to push myself past my limits for something that wouldn't even matter.

"Plenty of people get senioritis." I argued. "I don't think I need special attention. I'm not failing, am I?"

"You had hardly let any grades slip down to a B before now. Several classes have you sitting at a C. Not a C plus. A C minus."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." I interrupted. "I understand. I'll catch up once physical therapy lightens up, I promise."

Daisy sat back, looking me up and down carefully. Her chair squeaked as she leaned back. "I'll let you go for now. But you'll be hearing from me in a couple of weeks if I don't see any improvements."