and vines on. Holding my doodled notebook in my hands, I turn around to leave. Right as I turn, someone slams into my back, knocking me into the locker.
Throwing my hands out, I avoid physically hurting myself against it, but the momentum of the hit causes me to drop my bag.
“Watch where you’re going, freak.” He calls out to me as he runs away, not bothering to help. I have no idea who he is. Tucking my hair behind my ears, I bend down to gather my belongings from the ground: all my notebooks have spilled open, all the papers from my folders are randomly dispersed in the hall, and my pens and pencils are rolling in opposite directions.
“Here, I’ll help you with that.” I look up and see Colton bending down.
“It’ll ruin your reputation. You don’t want to be seen associating with the school freak,” I mumble.
“What?” he stops, his hands hovering over a book and looks directly at me.
“I said thanks.”
He knows that I didn’t say that, but he doesn’t comment. Together we are able to gather the things relatively quickly. My doodling notebook has fallen open onto the page with the flamed drawing.
“Did you draw this?” He asks while looking intently at the page.
Grabbing it out of his hand, I say, “Yeah, but I’m not finished yet.”
“It’s really good.”
Still sitting on the ground, I place the notebook in my bag and look around making sure we have gotten everything. Colton stands up and puts his hand out to help me. I accept it, thankful that someone is being nice to me for once.
When I stand, I realize just how tall he is. Looking straight ahead, I am staring at the middle of his chest. I crane my neck back, to look up at him and thank him. When I open my mouth to reply, it feels like pins and needles shoot up my body. Ice cascades through my arms. I can’t move or breathe. The pain travels up my arms and recedes into my head, where it remains. It is so immense, I feel like I am going to pass out. I let go of Colton’s hand, slam my eyes shut, and grab my head. I am unable to think. All at once, I start hearing numerous voices; echoes of those around me. All the voices are weighing me down. I let out a whimper as my legs give out. Colton reaches out and grabs me before I hit the ground.
“Ryanne? What’s wrong?” I barely hear him and can’t respond. The pain is too much. So many thoughts are running though my head: What’s wrong with her? Why is she acting like that? She just wants attention. Do these pants make me look fat? I’m really hungry. SUMMER TIME. Why is he talking to her? He could do way better than that.
Colton grabs my bag off the ground. Putting an arm behind my knees and the other at my back, he scoops me into his arms and carries me out the school and into the parking lot. With hurried steps, he makes it to his car and places me in the passenger seat, buckling me in the process.
I lean forward and rest my head on my lap, but the voices don’t ease. It feels like everyone is screaming at me. Colton runs across the front of the car, jumps into the driver’s seat, and puts the car into reverse. He speeds out of the parking lot, not even bothering to buckle his own seatbelt.
Grabbing his cell phone out of his jeans pocket, he dials a number. “Claire, it’s definitely her. I’m bringing her over now. I need your help.”
What did he mean, “it’s definitely her?” When I am about to respond, a new wave of voices crashes into my head. What should we do tonight? We have to go celebrate. I need to do laundry. I have to hurry home, Dr. Oz is on. Ugh, my car won’t start. Just my luck. I whimper again, this time louder than before.
The pain proves to be too much for my body.
“Ryanne? Ryanne, dear, can you hear me?”
“Are you sure she’s going to be okay? She’s been out for a while now.” I can hear people talking to me, but my body isn’t able to respond. The voices are still in my head and I know that if I open my eyes, they will amplify again.
Slowly, my body starts to come back to life. I can move my hands and