The Disappointment Kid (Completed)

5

I don't know why it surprised me, but, when I got to school, Henry completely ignored me. He walked right past me, laughing at something one of his few friends had said. 

 I mean, I had kind of anticipated this, but it still stung.

I spent most of the day in my own head or with Trish. That's short for Patricia, in case you couldn't work it out yourself. After all, I only had one friend. She was only marginally more popular than I was, but all least she knew that I existed.

Most of the time, being in my head and being with Trish coincided. Unfortunately, I didn't even realise this. Unfortunately, because my mother was right. I didn't have any friends to spare. In fact, Patricia was the only person in my grade I had some semblance of a connection with – apart from Henry. But then again, he didn't exactly come across as my biggest fan, either. Fair enough, it had only been an ice cream and not a night of hot and wild sex, but I felt used and discarded just the same. Stupid, I know. But feelings are feelings. The only thing you can do is bury them as deep as possible and hope that nothing will ever accidently unearth them again. I was busy digging, so I didn't pay much attention to my only ally. Just goes to show, eh? Typical Katherine.

Well, I had only just started working on the Katherine-to-Cat transformation. Give me a little time, for Christ's sake. I was dead serious about it this time. Who the hell cared about some guy called Henry? I was going to show everyone.

I kept this bravado up in my head all the way back to my room. As soon as I shut the door behind me, my shoulders slumped and tears threatened to leak. I swallowed hard and picked up my mental shovel again, digging harder than ever. Before I knew what I was doing, I had consumed multiple bars of chocolate again. When I looked at all the empty wrappers lying on my bed, I had the strangest feeling. It was a contradictory mixture of 'You bloody idiot!' and 'Who the hell cares anyway?' 

At least, it had accomplished its task. The Henry hurt was gone, leaving just a faint memory.

That night I woke up from a sharp pain in my abdomen. It didn't last all that long, maybe half an hour, before it became just a faint, dull ache. This sounds really crazy, but I kind of enjoyed the pain. It made me feel strong somehow.

* * * * *

The next few weeks were a nightmare roller coaster ride for me, to be honest. I saw less and less of Trish, who seemed to have found a replacement friend. Not that I blamed her. It hurt, but even back then I knew deep within myself that I wasn't exactly inspiring company. Henry changed directions whenever he spotted me, but I kept telling myself that I didn't care one way or the other.

To make matters worse, I felt a little 'off' physically as well. Most of the time, I was fighting an invisible haze that seemed to surround me, clouding my vision of reality. It was such an odd feeling that I can hardly describe it. I felt removed from myself, like a spectator of my own life. At the same time, every move I made, every little task I accomplished seemed to just drain the last resources of energy that I had. And I'm not talking about reports and projects. I'm talking about getting out of bed in the morning and getting dressed. The only thing that provided relief was a journey into candy world. Yes, it was just a quick fix, five minutes relief, but relief nonetheless. I suppose it's why some people self-harm. It's somehow the only way they feel that they can connect with their own selves again. I'm no expert, I know, but it's what it felt like to me.

I had always been strange, kind of a loner. My one saving grace was that I was female. I mean, I displayed all the warning signs the media told us to look out for in a male adolescent. If I had been a guy, they would have probably already arrested me for planning a school shooting or some other kind of mass murder by now. So, lucky me.

Anyway, even freakish behaviour like mine can take a turn for the worse – to such a degree that some people noticed. Not my classmates. They still didn't realise that I even existed. But the teachers had always liked me, even if they didn't pay me any attention. That's reserved for the troublemakers. Kids like me are left alone most of the time – as long as we are quiet, function properly and keep up the good grades. Just to make this absolutely clear, I don't blame the teachers. Most teachers in my experience genuinely like children, but like everyone these days (and in those days), they are (and were) understaffed and underpaid. There is only so much attention they can generate on any given day. Why spend it on the kids who seem to be doing well enough?

Well, it seemed that I had managed to cross over from the well-adjusted-and-unremarkable category to the here-comes-trouble category. I guess that is why one day my Maths teacher, Mrs Keating, asked me to stay after the lesson.

"Katherine, is everything okay with you?"

"Yes, Mrs Keating."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm okay."

"Katherine, I want you to know that you can come and talk to me anytime you want. And I mean that. I can see that you have lost interest in our lessons. You stare out of the window a lot, or at the wall, or at the desk. I know that you are an introvert anyway, but you normally participate well in our lessons. In fact, you are the driving force of our lessons. Right now, though, you seem to be preoccupied all the time, distracted to a point that it negatively affects your marks. But I want to make one thing clear: I'm not worried about your marks. I'm worried about you."

I looked at her. She smiled.

"I really don't know what to do or what to say to you. I don't want to put any pressure on you or say something wrong. But I am really worried about you. Tell me how I can help you!"

"That's nice of you, Mrs Keating, but you really don't need to worry about me. I'm okay," I insisted. Don't get me wrong. For a second, I was tempted to open up, say something, ask for some sort of help. But I didn't know what to say.

"Tell you what, Katherine, I can see that I've overwhelmed you a little bit here. Don't say anything now if you don't feel comfortable. Just remember that my offer still stands. If there is anything I can do, please come to me. Promise?"

I put on my most genuine smile.

"Thank you, Mrs Keating. Appreciate it."

Then I turned and fled. But I couldn't escape this conversation in my head. This was the very first time in my life that someone actually noticed me. Me! Not just my terrible looks or my terrific grades, but me! This was huge. But you just didn't go to a teacher and pour out your innermost heart. If anyone found out, that would make me Miss Popularity of the Year! No, thanks. And what could she do about it anyway? I was a mess, a freak. Even I didn't want to be my friend.