As we returned to school, I could sense that something was amiss with Celeste. She remained silent, avoiding eye contact with me, and I noticed the peculiar glances people cast her way. It wasn't until lunchtime, as we walked towards our usual spot behind the school, that the truth unfolded.
Celeste took a deep breath, her exhalation revealing her anxiety.
"You seem nervous," I commented, trying to break the tension.
"Eh, so-so," she replied, her voice shaky.
"What's on your mind?" I asked, concerned.
"People keep coming up to me and asking if I hurt myself," she confessed, her voice trembling.
"How so?" I inquired, hoping it was just baseless gossip.
"That I cut myself," she revealed.
I halted in my tracks. "H-how?"
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she struggled to speak.
"Who do you think?" she finally managed to say, her voice breaking.
"It's only a rumor, though, right?" I blurted out, instantly regretting my words.
"A rumor that's, for once, true," she snapped, her frustration palpable.
"I'm sorry," I quickly apologized.
"We can talk about it tonight?" she asked, her voice filled with hope.
"Yeah, we can," I assured her. "But right now, we just need to avoid him for the day."
A bittersweet chuckle escaped her lips, though she continued to cry. "I always wonder why you stick around."
As we reached our destination and sat down, confusion filled my mind. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I'm a bother to everyone around me. What makes you stick around?" she questioned, her voice laced with uncertainty.
"For one, I've known you for literally forever," I began, reminiscing. "You've been my only friend since forever. Plus, our promise to each other."
In our early years, we had made a pact to support each other whenever needed, and so far, we had remained true to that vow.
"How do you remember that?" she asked, taken aback.
"Why so surprised? Duh, I remember. I don't forget everything," I reassured her.
"But you always say you forget everything," she pointed out.
"I forget everything that's not important to me," I clarified.
"You're sweet," she smiled.
"I know," I quipped, attempting to lighten the mood.
"Celestia Smith?" a voice called out from behind us.
Turning around, we saw the counselor standing there.
"Y-yes?" Celeste stammered.
"I need to talk to you about some things, sweetie. Do you mind coming with me?" the counselor asked.
Celeste glanced at me, then back at the counselor.
"Can he come?" she pleaded, gesturing towards me.
"Actually, Miss Smith, I was hoping to talk to you alone," the counselor replied.
"Please?" Celeste implored.
"Fine," the counselor reluctantly agreed, her tone far from enthusiastic.
Celeste flashed me a nervous smile, which I reciprocated. Deep down, I knew this was inevitable, given the proliferation of rumors. The secret was bound to be revealed sooner or later.
An awkward silence hung in the air as we walked to the counselor's office.
I shot Celeste a concerned look.
"Let's just get this over with," she said, steeling herself.
Upon arriving at the office, the counselor instructed us to take a seat and told me to remain silent unless asked to speak.
"So I've heard around that you've been harming yourself, Ms. Celeste, and I'm wondering if the rumors are true or false," the counselor addressed Celeste calmly.
"Do you believe these rumors?" Celeste cautiously inquired.
"Personally, no, but as a counselor, it's my job to set things like this straight," the counselor replied, her voice composed.
"So, how does that work?" Celeste asked, her caution evident.
"I need you to roll up your sleeves," the counselor stated matter-of-factly.
In that instant, I noticed Celeste's complexion turn slightly paler.
"W-what?" she stammered, her voice shaking.
"I said you need to show me your arms," the counselor reiterated.
She hesitated, her gaze fixed on the counselor.
"Miss Celeste, this is only a precaution to confirm or debunk the rumors," the counselor explained.
Celeste shook her head.
A look of concern flickered across the counselor's face. "Celestia, I need to know you're not hurting yourself."
Once again, she shook her head.
"Celestia," the counselor warned. "I'm going to have to call your parents."
Tears welled up in her eyes, and I couldn't bear to see her in such distress. Without thinking, I broke my silence.
"Celeste, please just roll up your sleeves," I pleaded, my heart aching. "It'll be easier than having to do it in front of your parents."
Her head snapped towards me, surprise evident on her face.
"Please," I begged, desperation seeping into my voice. "It'll save you from the added pain of involving your parents."
She let out a long, sorrowful sigh.
"Fine," she replied coldly, slowly rolling up her sleeves to reveal numerous cuts on her skin, far more than I had remembered seeing last time.
"Oh, God," I thought, a wave of anguish washing over me.
The counselor appeared shocked, struggling to find her words. "Um, okay, I'll need you two to sit outside for a bit while I talk to the principal," she eventually managed to say, her surprise evident.
We obeyed, seating ourselves in the hallway, consumed by an uncomfortable silence.
YOU ARE READING
Memories
Teen Fiction----- This book series was written by someone who was struggling mentally in high school. Things will be cringey and may not make sense. Harsh topics will be brought up. My only hope is that you have fun if you choose to read. Thank you. Thank you t...
