Mare Moody - [blank]

She moans against her pillow. She is as much of a morning as I am. However, I have more motivation than she. Wish is quite frankly surprising. I shake my head and walk towards the bathroom. The small room is indented in the wall. A dirty vanity lies above a porcelain sink which is much too close to the small toilet. I cram myself into the room and shut the door. My hands find my cheeks and absorb the warmth. When I am tired, I heat up like a space heater. It was always a good way to trick my mom into letting me skip school. After 6th grade, she caught on and I had to get resourceful like other kids.

I bend down and turn the faucet on. I rub my hands under the stream for a moment until my palms are soaked. I push the water onto my face in an attempt to wake myself up. A yawn pushes its way out of my lungs, indicating that my plan has failed miserably. I shake my head and look in the mirror. My face has thinned out. I don't know if this is good or bad. The weight seems to be moving to my abdomen which swells more as the days go on. I sigh and walk out. I don't feel like actually getting dressed for the day. A sweatshirt that I messily put away last night hangs out of the wooden dresser next to my bed. I pull it out and throw it over my tired body. I can't even count the amount of sighs that expel from my mouth in just five minutes of my morning.

Jamie begins moving again. I look over to her bed and chuckle under my breath. If she gets in trouble for being late, it won't be my fault by any means. I slip on my zip-tied shoes and walk out of the room, intentionally shutting it much harder than is necessary. Perhaps if I make enough noise on my way out, Jamie will actually get out of bed.

I look around the hallway and see an exodus happening from the assorted bedrooms lined along the wall. A steady stream of people coat the hall and lead towards the cafeteria. I wish this human river would stay where it is at all times so that I always have a living, breathing navigation system; this will make getting lost basically unheard of. I join the crusade and stumble sleepily to breakfast. When I join the queue line, the overwhelming odor of fried onions assaults my nose. I feel nausea raise up in my esophagus. Nope. Not happen. I swallow hard and try to ignore the impending barf. I see an apple shining under the harsh mess hall lights and I blindly reach for it. If I can get some sort of fuel and still get out of the queue line without beginning the vomit lottery, I will take that option any day. I grab the apple and duck under the rope. My greatest and most important escape has been achieved.

I speed walk to an empty table and sit. I breathe deeply through my mouth. If I breathe through my nose I know that the nausea will come back twice as terrible. I drown out the entire world around me. In doing so, I can feel my stomach relax. I look around the room and too many eyes are on me. I see Lee, from yesterday, looking at me with a smirk on his face. He sits with other skinny kids. They look at me condescendingly. They must think I'm a failed bulimic.

"Hey!" An abrupt noise jumps me. I yelp and my shoulders twitch all the way to my ears.

"Oh sorry, I did it again."

I turn around and Brook stands before me with a stupid smile on his face. He says he is sorry but his expression tells me otherwise.

"It's fine," I sigh. At least the nausea is gone.

He places his food down and sits a little too close to me. I look back at Lee and he waves at me in the most highfalutin manner. Brook look over at them and scoffs.

"Don't even try to make amends with them," He says, "Lee was an asshole to me from day one."

"Same," I say mournfully.

"Only an apple for breakfast?" He gestures to my lonesome fruit.

"Yeah…" I say, "I hate apples."

He laughs and attacks his tray. Apparently the breakfast designated to me was an omelet with a side of oatmeal and assorted fried vegetables. Gross. Brook likes it all the same. As I watch him in amazement, Nurse Juay walks up to my table and sits down.

"I hope you two are playing nicely," she says, eyeing primarily Brook.

"We are all cool, Nurse J," Brook reassures through a mouth full of oatmeal. When he talks, chunks of white meal spew out of his sloppy embouchure. I wish I had as little care in the world as he did. Once again, I look at him in amazement.

Nurse Juay sees my expression and chuckles. She herself must feel the same way at times. Her gaze settles on apple and her eyebrows raise. She points at it and purses her lips. She wants me to eat more than this.

"Jordan, you've gotta chill sometimes," Brook sighs.

"I'm ok with Nurse J but you are not allowed to call me by my first name," she warns him. It is very easy to get annoyed by him but I really have no other options for friends.

"My apologizes," he says as he laughs.

I pick up my apple to calm the situation and take a bite. The raw, sweetness fills my mouth. My mouth tenses. The aftertaste of rotting water is what set me off of them. It hits me when I swallow. Apples are nasty and though my plan when I chose it was to push back the aggressive disgorging that I felt coming, this apple is making it come back rapidly. I put it down on the table with only one bite gone. Nurse Juay looks at my disappointed. She shakes her head and pulls out her clipboard.

"No, no," I say quickly, "I'll eat."

"I still have to log the apple," she says, keeping her eyes on her moving pen. The damage is already done.

"Where is Jamie?" She asks me.

"I don't know," I say, staring at the cursed apple.

"Did she wake up this morning?"

"I don't know."

I look up at her and she looks even more disappointed.

"Ana," she exhales, "you have to make sure your roommate gets to breakfast."

"Why?" I groan, "isn't that your job?"

She shakes her head. She pulls at her ponytail seeking to make it tighter. Her must have a permanent ring where she has kept it tied up. I turn away from her glare and look towards Brook. He has been silent for more time than I figured he could be. My heart leaps. He is in pain: eyes squeezed shut, fist clenched, leg shaking feverishly. I see from an outside view for the first time. I can see the pain wash through his brain. I know what he is feeling. His breath is short and shallow.

"Brook, I need you to breathe," I say softly. Harsh noises will make it worse. I need to talk quietly but still get the point across.

"Breathe in deeply." He starts to respond. I see his chest expand and weight falls off of my shoulders bit by bit.

"You are not drowning." I assure him, "it's just the voices. They aren't you."

His breath becomes steady. I can see his face begin to relax and his knuckles return to a faint pink.

He keeps his eyes closed through three more deep breaths. When he finally comes down, he opens his eyes gently. He is cautious and anxious about revealing himself again to the outside world. I understand exactly how that feels. I helped him. I understood him. Somebody understands the shit storm that goes through my head. I look into his eyes and for the first time, the green hits my soul. He looks thankful and relieved. A deep, subconscious revelation is passed between us.

"Thank you," he says in a small voice. He looks at me and his green eyes brand into my face.

"N-no problem," I sputter. I look down at the apple quickly. I need to get out of his gaze.

I look over at Nurse Juay. Her pen is dancing across her clipboard; this time, I am not angry to see it. Hopefully that witness account will reflect positively on me but still my head can't disconnect from the connection that Brook made through that attack. I feel way too close to him.

I clear my throat, get out of my chair quickly and walk away from Brook with the apple in my hand. I throw it in the trash harshly. My mind zones out and my thoughts begin to spiral. If he gets the same voice attacks as I do, does he also so the people? Obviously not my grandmother and mom but maybe his? I want to know. I want to get to know his actual condition. But at the same time, should I let myself do this all over again?