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Chapter 9 – I Know That Feel Bra

Of course, those weren’t literally the last normal moments of my life but that’s not far from how my teenage self would’ve hyperbolically described it in her diary, if she had one. Not that I was aware of that kind of finality right then.

I felt more like I was watching it all as it played out like the mounting circumstances of a protagonist in one of the melodramatically overwrought techno-thrillers I’d recently finished. This was weird, but stuff would go on. I’d have to dress for Gym. My papers would all still need to be done. There would be an absurd amount of math problems I’d have to trudge through to show I could answer half of them with the help of the solutions page at the end of the textbook. Things would be fine. They had to be.

My walk to the office was more ponderous than the last time. I creaked open the glass door and searched for people coming and going. They were all normal and still off on their little paths. One of them helped me hold the door open as the wind tried to close it. I was anonymous in that moment and it was a flash of relief.

The receptionist rubbed her forehead and gave me a suspicious look. I held my hands in front of me and passed her the note. I hadn’t looked at it, not that it mattered with the spaghetti twirls and flows of the teacher’s handwriting.

She squinted at the note for a long moment, sighed as she leaned forward, and pointed me to the nurse’s office after returning it. I didn’t expect to go there. Back to Aceves or even to the Sheriff for questioning was more likely, but I wasn’t about to complain.

The nurse’s door was shut, so I knocked on the aged, thin wood. It slipped open and a slight but friendly woman peered through the doorway at me. Her smile ebbed and flowed expectantly. I passed her the note and waited.

After reading it, she beckoned me inside and invited me to lay down on one of the blue cots to the side of the room.

Quietly, she asked me, “How are you feeling?”

I held my arms down and sighed as I said, “I’m nervous. I don’t know what’s going on.”

She gave a calm nod as I tried to find a comfortable spot on the cot. It was too wobbly yet too rigid to get comfortable. But it was something and it was better than any plastic chair.

I had plenty of time to lay there. She made a few calls, but I didn’t listen. I watched the hole-pocked rectangular tile lunar landscape of the drop ceiling. I tried to entertain myself with little variations in the visual noise. The end of one tile was stained with a circle of brown by something leaking through from above, probably decades ago.

My glasses pressed against my nose. I didn’t like to sleep with them on. Too heavy. I kicked my legs out a little, but they finally came to rest. The nurse finished her call. I didn’t look up.

She cleared her throat and informed me, “Your parents have been called. Can they pick you up?”

That wasn’t what I expected. I leaned up and pondered. Mom wouldn’t be able to get off work till late in the evening. Dad was a possibility. A family friend sometimes picked me up and looked after me, so I wasn’t home alone in the afternoon. I was still several years away from being allowed to drive myself home, let alone having a car I could use for that.

I explained my situation as I held back a rush of sourness in my stomach. She kept calm and made little notes as I talked. I took slow breaths and leaned back against that cot when I had to.

She let me take my time. When I was done, she asked, “Is there anything else?”

There was tons. My voice trembling, I anxiously asked, “I’m…not going to be suspended, am I?”

The nurse looked me in the eye and said, “I don’t see why you would be, but that’s not my decision. I wouldn’t worry about it. Just relax for now.”

I did my best. I took long, slow breaths like I’d seen in things related to meditation. It didn’t stop me from trembling. Beyond the nerves, I felt upset.

Heather. How could she be so harsh? Her glare still loomed in my mind. Hard and vicious. I’d never given her a look like that in my life. I didn’t mean anything that happened, even my fuming at Wes. It was just a feeling in the moment. I hoped the same was true for her.

I rifled through the events. I told myself that it would be okay. I’d make sure to stay away from classmates and it would stop happening. I’d take the tutor’s seat on the side of the room by the teacher. It could work. My parents could work it out.

I’d just need to go to the doctor and get this figured out. They had all sorts of tests. Maybe it was just something they’d missed in my last allergy skin-test? They could prescribe something for it. I had full coverage through my dad, so I could go wherever I needed.

They could cure Wes too. I’d read a story which wielded cutting-edge medical science. I was sure there was something out there that would fix this. It felt good to lie to myself like that, like my life might actually be in my control.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

After a good while of psyching myself up with these positive words, I asked the nurse if she’d come across those two guys I knew from Biology. I offered their names.

She frowned and informed me about confidentiality, pointing out the same extended to me. I nodded a little and offered, “Well, I hope they’re okay…”

Echoing my feeble feelings, she said, “I’m sure they are.”

I could’ve volunteered more. I could’ve used her like a psychologist, but I stopped there and turned slightly to the left. It wasn’t a comfortable position, but it was familiar. I always slept on my left side, whether it was in my parent’s master bed or in my own room. No matter if I faced a darkened wall or a shadowy corridor, I always felt most comfortable that way.

It would’ve been nice to just stay there and not think about all the things that were going on outside the room. I heard the buzzing, annoying bell for the end of the period. I should’ve been heading to math with one of my favorite teachers.

She was a short, stout older lady with glasses frames the same color as mine, a scowl that still managed to look sweet and friendly, and short, graying hair. I liked just sitting next to the ancient computer she had away on a corner table for some reason. Her shelves were always decorated with random reading material and old books which had nothing to do with math.

A class to unwind before lunch then Spanish and World History. That last one had my friend from Biology in it. I wanted to see him again, but I also didn’t want to think about him, lest I cause something to happen to him from afar too.

As I thought about all that, I heard slow, careful footsteps just outside the door. I glanced up. Standing in the doorway was a girl dressed in Wes’s shirt (far too big for her) with a different pair of jeans. Her narrow Vans slid around her tiny feet.

She held her hands in front of her and looked at me. I expected bitter anger like I’d seen from the girls in the class. If not that, I expected glistening tears streaming down her cheeks. While her face looked a little puffy and red like she'd been crying, the tears were gone. Instead of all that, she just stood there with quiet confusion shrouded in the emaciated emotions of calm.

She had a pass of her own. The nurse looked between me and Wes then inspected the girl skeptically. After a frown and a nod, she led her over to an examination area off to the side. Along with shutting the main door, a fold-out separator allowed some privacy.

I switched over to my right, but I could still hear their conversation.

Wes didn’t lean on enormous words. She spoke simply but carefully. She explained things accurately to the nurse, recounting what Heather and I had told her and leading into her first changes. What I didn’t know was that the librarian had taken her to the bathroom in the back of the library and given her a pair of small pants from what sounded like a very odd lost and found area (who loses their clothes in a library?).

I soon heard Wes undressing behind the separator. Medical stuff followed. She checked her pulse. A blood pressure cuff inflated and hissed. A stethoscope was adjusted. A small light clicked on and off. I mostly just heard these things, but I’d been to enough doctors to recognize them innately.

After all that, the nurse let out a long sigh. She asked for certain details again. It sounded like she was skeptical, but it had happened in view of the rest of the class. The separator moved away, and Wes emerged in a different shirt, a simple green one with a “Healthy Living” logo for some event which happened not too long ago. She looked presentable but it was obvious she wasn’t wearing anything else under the shirt.

It was now my turn. I was led behind, examined, and questioned. I reiterated all I’d said before, along with explaining, “I just felt randomly miffed at Wes. He’s well…we kinda sorta dated for a little bit…When I got upset...was just before all of this started happening to him.”

Not entirely accurate, but I felt like it was enough for a nurse. I went through all the medical prodding. I seemed to pass her basic exam. There wasn’t anything weird about me on the surface. The nurse didn’t show any obvious changes I could tell from briefly touching and being around me.

When I was done, I saw Wes had laid down on the cot closest to the door. Mine was pretty close to it but still further than the test distance from the library. As if that mattered now. I leaned towards the far side (which was fine, since that was still the left side).

As the nurse made extensive notes, I looked over at Wes. I really wanted to hug her but that wouldn’t be helping. It was disconcerting to look into the face of someone I knew, to see the kind of expressions they made (especially under stress), and for that face to be one I’d never seen before.

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Art by Alexis Rillera/Anirhapsodist