Your Friend, Jordan

Eleven

"James Dawson, please report to the principal's office. James Dawson, to the principal's office."

  I know, I know. I'm coming, I said in my head as the intercom went off again, and I made my way down the stairs. Staring straight ahead, I could feel eyes wandering over towards me as other kids roamed the halls, skipping out of their classes or on their spares. But I didn't pay attention to them, I wasn't fully there, in the moment. My head and mind was somewhere else, completely in a fog. I couldn't sort things out, I couldn't understand anything that was happening. It felt as if things were just going on too fast today, and I needed to hit the rewind and slow down button immediately. But I couldn't, unfortunately. And the more the day went on, the faster things seemed to go.

  My heart was racing the closer I got to the office, and I began to see the door as I followed the staircase to the main floor. My palms were sweating, everything tensed up as I approached the location, and all I wanted to do was turn around and run as fast as I could in the opposite direction. I felt a rush, and I wanted to bolt. But I couldn't do that.

Why not? It's not like anyone is watching you. Just run. Go, right now, before anyone does see you.

But I decided it wasn't such a good idea. I would have to come back to school eventually, and I would have to talk to the principal as well. I would have to see my friends again, and would have to speak to them. But why was I needed in the principal's office? What did he want to speak to me about? Why did he want to speak to my friends and I? Is it about Jordan? It has to be, right? What are the chances it doesn't have to do with him, just after he announces that, that huge piece of news earlier.

A jerking sensation crossed over me when Jordan's face popped back into my head, and the slight realization began to emerge that I would never see him again. That would be the only time from now on; in my head, in my mind. Stuck in there, that's where he would live now. But isn't that where he always lived? Or didn't he just move in there, a few weeks ago? After that incident, he was always just, there, from then on out. It's nothing new, right? He's been living up there for weeks on end now. That's not new.

A painful sensation washed over me with that realization, and I tried to push away a memory I felt coming on. I got that tingling feeling, that cold, hot and panicky sensation for a moment, the kind I always received when I felt a flashback coming on. Or just a slight memory or thought from weeks back, back in the locker room. That horrible, terrible place. That place that made me different, in an awful way. I bit my tongue with that thought, trying to get my mind on something else, trying to forget the past. But that never seemed to work for me.

As I entered the large, main area of the school, near the front doors and entrance, I finally realized where all the cops were. Lines and rows of them seemed to be stationed in the halls, close to the doors as they watched students go by, and others just stood around talking, whispering. I felt a sheet of terror cross my face as I froze, my eyes widening. I was nervous again, well, turning more nervous as I saw them. I felt frozen, but I realized after a moment I was still moving, but very slowly. Scanning the crowd of officers, my eyes didn't land on any recognizable, therefore I didn't see Officer Walker or Andrews. Just with that I calmed a bit, but not much. You could say the officers were intimidating, very, even if you didn't do anything wrong.

But did you do something wrong? Didn't you? Months ago? Weeks ago? Or even, days, ago? Aren't you guilty of something? Of more than one thing? Are they all here for you?

I felt a shutter of fear run up my spine. If I wasn't scared before, I sure was now. That bad side of my mind got ahold of the better, and all my scariest thoughts took over. I couldn't control them, they rambled on and on. However it seemed for the past few weeks the bad side of my brain had been the only one in charge, as if muting or even killing the good side all together. The good side which always said how things would get better for me, how I was worth much more than what I thought I was. How my pain wouldn't last, it would go away eventually, and I would be happy again, like I used to be. Although for awhile now, it seemed I had stopped hearing from that part of my mind, as only the bad thoughts remained. The bad thoughts, saying how worthless I was. How broken, how ruined, all by what happened in the locker room. How things would never get better, and I would always be stuck with this pain. This pain, that Jordan had inflicted upon me.