The Art World

Chapter 5

Although I had calmed down from my earlier panic attack, my existential dread was through the roof. I wanted to die because of the embarassment those people caused me and because of the inadequacy I felt. I knew Ben would never want me, and I knew that I would never be as good as my parents hoped I would be.

"Dinner is ready," Mom knocked on my door.

I stood up, dragging myself to the table and taking a seat. Alexandra was off work that day, so our family prioritized eating dinner together. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to see people.

I thought about the Art World that those twelve year old girls were talking about. I wondered if the rumors were true, and if they were I wondered what I could do and how I could feel. Death would be such a small price to pay, not only to stop feeling the way I did, but to be somewhere else. Even if it wasn't real, I wouldn't be here to experience and put my family through embarassment.

Chrissy came over and sat beside Alexandra. She was a year younger than my sister and met her at Pewter University. She had curly blonde hair, was shorter than Alexandra but only slightly taller than me, and she was bubbly and extroverted. She motivated Alexandra and brought out the best in her, sometimes bringing her out of her bubble.

"Michaela," Dad said, "your mother said you had a panic attack today."

"I did." I said.

"What do you have to feel anxious for?" He asked. "Your sister did more than you did, and this didn't happen to her."

"Randall," Mom said, "there might be something going on with her."

Chrissy was conversing with Austin while my parents focused on me.

"What happened at school today, honey?" Mom asked.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Tell your mother right now." Dad ordered.

"Randall, it's fine," Mom sighed. "She doesn't have to talk if she doesn't want to."

"Is it because you're not keeping track of your homework properly?" Alexandra speculated. "I found your worksheet on your desk. And most of your answers are wrong."

"Why were you in my room?" I asked her.

"You left your door open." She said simply.

"So you just go through my stuff without my consent?" I snapped. "What the hell, Alexandra?"

"Watch your mouth, Michaela," Dad said, turning to Chrissy. "Pass the salt, please."

"You sure didn't forget your sketchbook," Alexandra remarked.

"Just shut your whore mouth!" I gritted through my teeth.

"Michaela!" Mom smacked the back of my head. "Language!"

"I'm not hungry tonight," I stood up from my seat, "I'm going to my room."

I left the table, Alexandra standing up.

"Alex, it's all right--" Chrissy reached toward her, trying to stop her.

"Sit down," she ordered, interrupting Chrissy's attempt to smooth things over and reason with her.

"You're not the boss of me," I said.

"Michaela, please eat your dinner." Mom sighed. "At least take your dinner to your room."

"I'm not hungry," I argued.

"Stop being a little brat," Alexandra said. "The whole thing was your own fault for being so damn disorganized. We can only help you so much before we finally stop caring."