Fire Bender (On Hold)

Don't Call Me Crazy

"My name is Donney, I'm in high school--the tenth grade to be exact," I say to the support group that I can now confirm I am never going to again, "I am what some might call a normal teenaged boy, but having said that, I have been diagnosed with ADHD, OCD and anxiety all by the age of five," I tell them, grudgingly. 

The group leader nods her head at my introduction to myself, then sighs. She hits the little gong she has in her hands with a little gong stick and closes her eyes as the gong chimes. I scrunch up my nose at her, quickly looking around the room to gage everyone else's reaction to this, and quickly notice the other members of the group have their eyes closed as well, mimicking the weird lady. 

She suddenly inhales a deep breath--more like a gasp--through her nostrils and exhales loudly through her mouth. "Keep going Donney, we are here for you," her voice drawls out, making me feel uncomfortable. 

I clear my throat awkwardly, "Um, okay. It-uh-it was hard learning to adjust when I was younger, but I've learned new ways to cope with it. You develop ways to cope as you become more familiar with it. I had to go to a councillor for almost a year when I had a bad anxiety attack, but its gone away for the most part now." I stop again. How much longer of this torture? 

I check the watch on my wrist and internally groan. Seriously? Another hour of this garbage left? 

The leader urges for me to keep going.

I clear my throat, fiddling with my hands in my lap and keeping my attention anywhere but at the people in the room. "I get teased at school by the jocks. The one that teases me the most is a guy named Markus. I ignore it most of the time but, there is one word that really bothers me, and that's when he calls me crazy."

~~~

"I try to ignore the mocking as best I can," I tell my therapist, "I walk with my head high and try not to show emotion. But, Markus, one of the football players, walked up beside me, mocking the way I walk. Him and his friends shove me around the halls and take my books. They ripped my essay that's due today. I don't know how much longer I can contain my anger."

My therapist looks at me over his glasses. "Have you tried talking to the teachers? The principal?" he asks me.

I nod slowly, looking at the desk in between us. "I did once, but they somehow convinced the principal it was my fault and I got detention." I hunch my shoulders, feeling defeated. 

There's a long pause before there's any response, and when there is, all is said is, "Uh huh," followed by a click of my therapist's tongue. Something he always does when he is in deep thought.

~~~

Markus comes up to me, flicking my hat off my head, "Hey crazy! What's going on?" he taunts. 

Really? We had to start with that?

I can feel my face burning up, and I ball my hands into fists to try to control myself. "Don't call me crazy," I spit out through my grinding teeth. 

His expression looks somewhat startled at first but then he laughs it off. "Calm down Donney. It was just a joke." He put his hand on my shoulder but quickly pulls it away, "Ouch! Your burning hot." 

"Leave me alone," I mutter, "Don't touch me."  My eyes start burning, and I blink a couple times but it doesn't help. I started rubbing them but that makes it worse.

"Woah, uh, dude?" He asks. He actually seems concerned for me for once. "What's going on with your eyes?" I furrow my brows in confusion, then run and grab a mirror that is magnetized to the inside of some girl's locker.

I look in shock as my eyes go from my natural blue colour to a vibrant red. "What the hell?" I whisper to myself before running to the bathroom quickly to get out of sight, but Markus follows close.

"Dude, what the heck happened?" He asks squeamishly. He looks freaked out. Like a deer caught in headlights. It makes me smirk a little bit but I quickly let it fade. I have to concentrate at the matter at hand.

I looked at the ground. "I-I have no idea," I mutter, feeling genuinely scared. 

"Well I think we should figure it out." He says simply, putting his hands on his hips.

I scoff at this statement and roll my eyes. "We? Since when are you nice to me?" 

He starts off nodding his head but then switches to shaking it from side to side, with a stupid look on his face. "Uhh, today."

I groan. "Okay, whatever," I agree reluctantly, but too annoyed and worried to care, "can you get me out of here without being seen?"