Kara's Cross
Chapter 3

“Okay, Dad, I’ve finished the toast and the apple you brought me from the cafeteria and the nurse even gave me a couple of cookies. It’s almost time for the bell to ring and I’d much rather get to class when everyone else does.” I’m sure the teacher will force me to stand in front of the class while she uses me for an example on tardiness... No, I’ll just arrive with everyone else, thank you.

“Well, you do have more color in your cheeks now. How do you feel?”

Like my head’s been used for a volleyball game.

“I’m good. I must’ve been hungry. I’m sorry for putting you through all this worry. Can I go now?”

“I suppose, but if you feel weak or sick in any way, just call home and I’ll come get you.”

“Okay, goodbye then. Love you.”

I hop up to my feet as quickly as I can manage, attempting to look perky. I hope that it works, because the pain in my head just slapped me in the face for doing it. I walk out into the hallway forming the biggest smile I can through gritted teeth and held breath, ignoring my body’s request to lay down and curl up on the floor.

Closing the door behind me, I lean back against it for a moment and take in the scene. The hall is full of students heading both directions, so full it takes on the guise of a flowing river. Most of them glance at me while they pass by and quickly look ahead again, not recognizing or caring about the new girl. Unfortunately, more of them than I had hoped nudge the person beside them as they work their way through the crowd, whispering and pointing with stupid smiles on their faces.

I can’t seem to move. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t even know where I am supposed to go right now. Feeling for the handle of the door, I wrap my hand around the cold, metal. I can go back in and avoid all of this for another year.

A girl walks by, smiling as she gets close, “Hi!”

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I release my grip on the doorknob and manage a quick wave, the action itself renewing my shattered confidence.

Maybe I was wrong. This might actually work out.

I step into the throng of students and head down the corridor. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my schedule and map of the school. Second period is about to begin, math class is in Room 152. The map indicates I’m heading in the right direction. It’s getting easier to move as the crowd rapidly dissipates around me. Looking up at the numbers on the doors as I walk by, I figure out my class is the second room on the left up ahead.

A smile finds its way onto my face as I see my classroom door and head toward it. I might be able to do this high school thing after all. I made it through the crowds and found my class, someone was nice to me already, and the pain in my head is down to a dull pounding at this point. This may end up being a good day. I stuff my schedule and map back into my pocket and start thinking of where I want to sit.

A loud bell sound chimes three times.

No! It can’t be the class bell. I don’t want to be late. I increase my pace, but see the door to my class closing in front of me. Nice. So much for having a good day. Coming to a stop in front of the door, I hesitate. It’s not too late to go home.

I take a deep breath and knock on the door. Anxiety replaces all feelings of hope I had moments ago. There’s no going back now.

“Yes, come in.”

The voice I hear through the door sounds like an older woman. Mrs. Pickford, if I recall correctly from my schedule. I glance back down the hallway one last time before opening the door.

Everyone in the room is staring at me, even the teacher. I want to do something, anything, but I can’t move. My mouth feels dry and my stomach is churning. I think I might throw up right here in front of everybody. Why did I use not eating as my excuse? Now I have two meals in me, both fighting to get back out again. Why won’t anybody look away? I can’t do this. I know I’m going to be sick.

“Well, dear, are you just going to stand there or come in and tell me your name?”

The teacher’s voice starts the world moving again. Several of the students start smirking, others are whispering to each other. I slowly make my way to her desk, doing my best to calm my stomach. She turns her attention to the class with a harsh glare and the students are instantly quiet. She looks back toward me as I reach the side of her desk. Between the dryness in my mouth and the nausea I feel, I decide to hand her my schedule instead of speaking.

“Hmm, Kara Eldridge,” she studies my schedule for an uncomfortably long time. “Welcome to Algebra class, Miss Eldridge, we’re glad you decided to join us.”

A wave of snickers and whispers sweeps briefly through the class until the teacher’s glare returns them once again into silent listeners, all staring at me. The back of my throat is burning and my arms and hands are starting to tingle. I don’t think I’m going to make it. Please, let me sit down.

“Class, this is Kara Eldridge.”

Okay, you’ve said enough, let me sit down.

“The first activity we are going to do today is to tell each other a few things about ourselves.”

Please, let me sit down. My entire body is tingling and I do not think I can keep my stomach calm much longer.

“I was going to ask for volunteers, but since you are already at the front of the room, Kara, why don’t you go first?”

This isn’t happening. Maybe if I ask her to let me go later, she will let me sit down for a while.

“Well, Kara, go ahead.”

I turn to ask her if I can take my turn later on, and the instant my mouth opens, it all comes out. Not the request I was going to make, or any words, for that matter, but everything I had eaten today and I’m pretty sure more than that. As I realize what is happening, I try to direct myself toward the trashcan, but I have already redecorated the teacher’s desk and judging by the way she is jumping to her feet, have done a number on her dress as well. I am sure the horror of all of this will sink in soon, but right now the tightening of my stomach muscles has me only wishing for everything in me to hurry up and come out.

My body eventually decides it is finished after far too long. I’m weak from the exertion. Regaining my senses, I am instantly appalled as I realize I am kneeling on the floor hugging the trash can as if it were my best friend; I have made more than a little mess of myself and my surroundings. Every student is as still as a statue, staring at me in disgust. I feel weak and my headache is back with a vengeance. My face is wet from my tears and my clothes and hair are filthy. I want to disappear, but am unable to move now.

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