Surrendering
Chapter
7: Therapy Session
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January 21st
I dragged myself down to breakfast in the morning. I was up until two last night, trying to finish my stupid essay. Charlie’s essay was a three pages long story. I’d only been able to write four sentences during those two hours in detention.
I sneaked up against the wall. I wanted to see if anyone had showed up yet. I don’t like being the last one. I don’t like being the first one either. It’s a little dilemma of mine.
They were all there, sitting around that table. I didn’t have the guts to walk up to them all by myself. They would look at me. Maybe there were no chairs left, and I had to sit somewhere else? That would be embarrassing.
I was standing there, trying to decide if I should walk up to the table or escape, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. Why did everyone have to scare the living hell out of me all the time?!
“Are you hiding?”
I turned around to see who it was. I quickly turned back when I recognized his face.
“No, I’m not hungry,” I answered.
“You look like you’re hiding,” Guy continued.
What was it with this guy? Why did he always have to catch me in embarrassing situations?
“Well, I’m not. I’m just not hungry.” It was the truth; I never eat breakfast.
Guy grabbed my arm and dragged me along up to the table. I hate him. Everyone turned their heads towards me when we finally reached the table. I wanted to sink into the ground and slowly die.
“Look who I found,” Guy exclaimed and let go of my arm. I tumbled towards Fred, deciding to kill Guy later when there weren’t so many witnesses around. Fred smiled at me, and I really tried my best to smile back. I don’t think it went very well.
“How’s the essay going?” Charlie asked me. “Did you come up with a subject?”
I nodded and faced the floor. I wished they could all just ignore me. Fred gave me an amused smile. “Are you going to sit down, or are you consuming your food standing up?”
I wanted to scream ‘stop making fun of me!’, but I kept my mouth shut. I did as I was told and sat down. My hands were shaking and my eyes didn’t manage to see straight. Everything seemed to be all fuzzy. My self-confidence had already left me to handle the following minutes by myself.
Luckily, the conversation changed from my essay to something else.
“So, did we decide what to do this weekend?” Russ asked. Yes, I’ve struggle hard to learn their names. It was definitely Russ who’d asked the question. Or Ken. God damn it.
“Well, we have to do something, right? So that we can get to know each other better,” Charlie answered. “We can’t all be as social as Cee.”
I hope the Devil let him burn in hell after I’ve killed him.
“Well, it’s working, everyone knows who she is, right?” Guy replied. Was he taking my side or making fun of me? It was hard to tell. Well, he’s already on my death-list, so it really doesn’t matter.
“Give her a break,” Nish spoke up. Wow, that’s the first time he’s defended me. I had to thank him later. Well, I hate thanking people, so I might just give him a smile. But that’s too much work. I might just not bitch with him.
“I was just kidding,” Charlie laughed. “I was actually expecting a smart-ass comment back. What’s wrong with you today? You couldn’t shut up at all yesterday.”
Ha, I had a great answer to Guy’s ‘social’-comment. The next time anyone said that, I knew what to answer. Hopefully someone would ask that again sometimes soon, or I’d forget about it.
“Cecilia?”
Huh?
“I was talking to you,” Charlie smiled. “Where’s your come-back?”
I hadn’t thought of one yet. It might turn up at next breakfast. “Uhm, I don’t know,” I said, sounding like an idiot. They laughed at me. I hate being laughed at. Where are those earthquakes when you need them?
“Maybe you should check your alphabetized record,” Portman teased. I couldn’t help but smiling, his comment was funny. I have a weird sense of humor. Once I start laugh, I can’t stop, even if it’s not funny anymore. If someone makes a stupid joke, or a comment that only I see the fun in, I’m usually the one laughing. People think I’m crazy. I am.
“How did you manage to do that?” Guy asked. “Did you actually make her smile?”
I bit my lower lip and tried to hold back my laughter. It came out as a snorting-sound and everyone stared at me. I placed my hand over my mouth and gave the impression of trying to choke myself.
“Okay, so you’re out of the conversation,” Portman concluded. “So, what about this weekend?”
“What about it?” Dwayne asked. That MUST have been Dwayne.
“We could sneak into a club or something,” Luis suggested. “Russ, you live here, tell us what to do.”
“I strongly recommend that you keep away from South Central at nighttime,” Russ told us. Great, I’d been right about him being Russ. Now I just had to figure out who Ken was.
“Well, how about the area around here?” Julie asked. “There must be somewhere to go.”
“My brother told me about this new club called Moonlight close to the beach. It can’t be too far away from here,” Russ said. Everyone turned their attention to him. Even I.
“You think we can get in there?” Julie asked excitedly. “I know you have to be 21, but they make exceptions, don’t they?”
I sighed. I didn’t feel like going to a club. That meant drinking. It probably meant having fun too. That’s just not me. Especially not the ‘having fun’ part. No one seemed to share my opinion though, they we’re all bursting into flames with the idea of getting into a club. Just bribe the doorkeeper, which worked fine for me.
I missed out on the rest of the conversation.
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An annoying song got stuck in my head during the rest of the day. One of those up-beat songs I could live without. It made me want to smile, so I forced myself to block the song out. The result was a horrible headache.
I couldn’t think straight when I walked to practice. I carried my bag in one hand and juggled my hockey stick in the other. I was just about to walk up to the door when I crashed into someone. My headache increased several notches. Everything I had in my hands went flying over the floor.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, convinced that I was the one causing trouble.
“I’m sorry too.”
I hesitated before I decided to see who the person I’d run into was. I didn’t want him to see me staring at him. It wasn’t anyone I’d met before. Well, I hadn’t spoken to him, that’s what I mean. I recognized him. It was Adam, the one I admired for his hockey-skills.
He helped me get my things together again. There was an awkward silence between us. I wasn’t planning on speaking at all. If he wanted something, he could talk. I had nothing clever to say. I probably wouldn’t have said anything anyway, because I’m too shy.
I never cry. Okay, I do. For the stupidest reasons. I remember the last episode of ‘Mad About You’ and also that special episode of the ‘Muppets’, where they all give a tribute to the late Jim Henson. I cried my eyes out. I did not cry at any occasion when I got into different fights with guys in my class. I didn’t cry when a girl in my class beat me up for protecting another girl. I never show anyone that I cry. I haven’t cried in front of anyone since I was nine. I stopped feeling at that point.
The reason I’m babbling about this is because I want to give an explanation to why I didn’t cry today when Adam accidentally hit my knee with his hockey stick. I have bad knees, I guess it’s because I have fragile joints. It runs in the family, probably. The biological one, not the real one.
I do realize that you shouldn’t be out playing hockey if you know that you’re ‘breakable’. But what the hell, I can just as easily get hurt during a pillow-fight with my bad luck. Not like I attend lots of those, I’m just comparing. Anyway, Adam of course hit my bad knee so hard that I doubled over. I felt a clicking in my knee, and the next thing I knew, my knee got completely dislocated. It hadn’t done that for almost a year. It hurt like hell.
“Helvete!” I winced. I always swear in different kinds of languages, I need no reason for that, I always swear. I decided to curse at my wounded knee in Swedish, since I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I’m glad Adam doesn’t understand a word Swedish, because I said several nasty things in a row. I’m completely demented.
“Fan, skit, helvete,” I continued. Adam gave me a puzzled look.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You popped my knee out of place,” I whined, still trying to convert from my Swedish cursing.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed. “Wait, I’ll get someone...”
“No!” I cut him off. “It’s okay, I can just push it back, it’s not that big of a deal.” I didn’t want to let Muck know that I still had trouble with my knee. He’d bench me for a month.
Adam gave me a pain filled look. Who was he to complain? It was my knee! My eyes filled up with tears, but I fought them back. I was not going to cry on top of everything. Even if it hurt as hell. It’s disgusting to have to push a dislocated knee back on its place. I’m never going to be a doctor. I hate blood and other medical stuff, along with hospitals. I’d be the most neurotic doctor in the world.
“That must’ve hurt,” he frowned.
“Yeah, it did,” I mumbled. “It’s okay, I’ll manage to live on anyway.”
“You can’t play now,” he told me.
“Of course I can!” I almost yelled. “Don’t tell them, please, I have to play!”
Begging is not my strongest side, but I was really frustrated with the thought of being kicked off the team for an injury.
“I don’t know,” he hesitated. “I don’t know if it’s that smart to play if you’re hurt.”
“Please!” I begged. “Don’t tell anyone!”
Adam gave me an understanding gaze. “Only if you don’t play at this practice.”
“But... I have to play! What am I supposed to say, huh? I’d come out as the hugest idiot!” I sounded way more upset then necessary. I haven’t been shoving anyone this side of me since I left Sweden. Poor Adam was probably declaring me as the world’s greatest crybaby.
“No, they’ll understand, the same thing happened to me two weeks ago. Coach Bombay was really understanding.”
“You’re the star-player, of course he’s understanding towards you. He doesn’t even know me; I’m just that crazy girl in the second line that keeps blowing each game. Oh, I’m sorry, I mean the ‘first runner-up’ line,” I said rapidly. “If you tell on me, Muck’ll bench me and I’d probably be moved to a lower line-up. That means that I’ll play with someone I’ve never met before, and I’d make an ass out of myself at every single game we’ll ever play. Not un-like my other accomplishments.”
Adam just stared at me after my outburst. “Ooo... kay,” he said after a while. “First of all; calm down. Second of all; who says I get treated different, just because you imagine me as a better player?”
“Is there a third ‘of all’, or am I allowed to leave now?” I asked. I was humiliated.
Adam shrugged. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah!” I said with a fake up-beat voice. “I been through worse set-backs in my life. You don’t think a stupid knee will get in the way of my future hockey-career in the NHL, do you?” I was being sarcastic, but Adam clearly didn’t get it.
“Maybe we can come to an agreement,” he smiled. “I won’t rat on you, and you help me out with something in return, how does that sound?”
“Like a favor?” I asked, rubbing me knee.
“Yeah.”
“What kinda favor?” I said suspiciously.
“What do you know about the theory of equations?”
Huh?
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