33

I feel no better once I settle into class, the teacher and students around me carrying on as usual. I raise my hands a few times, even though I don’t know the answers, just hoping to be called on so someone will have said my name or looked in my direction enough for me to know I’m still alive.

Did I die in the car crash? Was everything after that just my brain’s weird way of fantasizing my life into continuance? And now reality’s set in, my existence is fading into nothingness?

My mouth fills with the taste of wood from the pencil I have been gnawing at relentlessly, sparking an idea. I let the pencil fall to the floor, thinking someone will look up or pick it up to hand it back. But nothing. It quietly clicks against the floor as it rolls right out into the middle of the room, completely untouched and seemingly unnoticed.

My foot bounces wildly underneath my desk, my eyes darting to the clock on the wall every few seconds. I can’t stop reaching down to dig through my purse, forgettin