SONG:
PARADISE by COLD PLAY
Because Sam's so misunderstood :(
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• Samantha Ried•
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CHAPTER TWO : DANGER
Friday, Sept 6
The next day, people stared at me once again as I strode over to Miss Madigan's office.
I was so utterly shocked when they stared at me, because I'd never been stared at in my entire life for being a crazy girl who saw a therapist every day instead of a regular guidance counselor.
Then I killed everyone violently and hung myself. The end.
A boy with longish hair caught my blissful smile and tentatively returned it as I dreamed about pleasant things for a change. I immediately switched my expression to a vicious glare to dispel any traces of hope that my euphoric grin might have given him.
He quickened his pace.
I didn't set out to be greatly bothered by just anything that day. One might go further to say that I didn't care a tremendous amount about the staring at that moment.
My biggest problem was Miss Madigan herself, because I felt very preoccupied with fixing a scowl on my face so she would know very well that I didn't care to see her. At all.
The long haired boy had unknowingly helped me with this, because the annoyance I felt at him was probably still clear on my face. And since he'd retreated, I knew my glare was sinister enough.
I walked into the ugly office, then slammed the door and roughly as possible. The frame shook. Next, I took my usual seat, crossed my right leg over the left and leaned toward the window.
Eventually, Miss Madigan graced me with a casual greeting as if she'd missed my entire display of disdain toward her.
Great.
"How was the Homecoming Meeting yesterday," she prompted in a cheery tone.
Just by looking at her, I could tell she'd gotten approximately two hours of sleep last night- if that. She wore contact lenses the day before, but now she was not. Her blue eyes seemed less keen and focused than they had previously been. Her coffee mug today was significantly three fluid ounces emptier than yesterday. She had heavy eye makeup on around (mainly under) her blue eyes today, though I don't recall seeing any at all the day before.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that she was tired. A very small part of my brain was curious. It wasn't like she was up all night working, because whatever she was doing right now was hardly a job since she was ridiculously terrible at it.
"I went to it," I humored her.
"Great."
She pulled out a pen and began to jot something down.
My eyes narrowed. I followed the pen strokes closely and decided that she was up to her previous trickery.
Scribbling.
"I think our session the other day was very eye-opening. On your part, of course," I began.
Miss Madigan grunted, probably not even listening. That angered me, but I continued anyway, willing myself to remain calm.
"I'd be willing to bet that your notes from our discussion are both insightful and compelling that I have mental health issues," I tried again.
This got her to peek up at me. She didn't realize that I saw this, since it was a very sneaky motion. I could tell by the way she kept up her pretense. Line after line of scribbles.
