Sang Penguasa

I was crying. Reaching up or trying to I tried to touch my face, but it was hard. In fact, everything hurt. Plus, something was holding me in place.

“Gab! Gab please say something!” turning my head I see a guy leaning over the top of my head as he spoke to someone. Looking up as much as I could I see a beautiful woman, well her face. Or some of it as the guy was holding her face in his hands as he cried in her red hair. Then looking around I see that she is holding me on her side and on her other side was a boy. Looking to him, I felt sorrow, a deep gut-wrenching sorrow. His eyes were open and staring at me. His gray eyes that I knew had a ring of green, they reminded me of mom’s eyes. At that thought I looked up and remembered that the beautiful woman was mom. Moving as best as I could, I reached up to touch my mom.

My movement startled the guy and that’s when he looked down at me. We just stared at each other, his light gray eyes spoke of his sadness and misery as well as his shock. He was someone to me but who.

“Little Sea!” was all he said.

~(*,,*)~ (/) ~(*,,*)~

“….rida?” 

“Merida?” 

CLAP… I jumped as my classmate clapped his hands beside my head and then pointed to the teacher. Shaking my head to clear the nightmare I must have slipped into during class, I looked at my teacher just as he got close. “Merida, are you ok?”

I shrugged my shoulders as I looked back outside. I just hate it when this happens. Losing myself inside my head while around others where anyone can accidentally touch me is the worst scenario I can be in. Feeling Mr. Rouser getting closer, I snapped my head around to find him sitting in my classmate’s seat, who, surprisingly, was walking to the blackboard with his notebook. That’s when I noticed the notes written there and that the rest of the class was busily coping them down. Mr. Rouser never writes on the board, given that this is history, and we are studying the Great Depression right now.

Oh shit, he thinks I am having an episode, and I’m proven right when he rapes on my desk. Once again, startling me, and snapping my attention back to him.

“Merida, do you need to go to talk to the counselor…” shaking my head no, I interrupted him before he could say more.

“Oh no Mr. Rouser I am ok. I was…” I trail off as he stares me down, I almost laugh as his forehead crinkles with what Lucy describes as his Bulldog face. “I just need a break Mr. Rouser!”

Mr. Rouser nods his head at me before standing and walking down the aisle. “In that case, why don’t you head on out? Miguel is in a free period right now, correct?” Nodding my head yes, then remembering his back was to me I voiced it. Then I quickly gathered my stuff so as to make a quick escape from the class.

I know Mr. Rouser never means any harm, but drawing attention to me just makes it worse. As I walk to the front of class, I hear a few whispers and just know that everyone is going to be talking about how Poor Mery. having an episode in class. Plus, it will be all over the school within the next 30 minutes.

“Don’t go running in the road again, you poor poor invader.” Snickers Natasha, as I pass her desk, to get to the teacher’s desk for my hallway pass.

“Ok, Merida, I want you to read pages 120-135 and give me a summary of what you read.” Mr. Rouser says as he hands me the pass. I just nod as I turn to the door to leave. “Class, I want a 3-page summary of what we have talked about today on pages 120-135.” Mr. Rouser announces just as I close the door. I don’t need to look back or even open the door to know the entire class is groaning. Or that Natasha and her friends are glaring at me.

I hate how they all think it’s my fault. Like I have some power or weight when it comes to what teachers decide to assign us. Or that I have it any easier cause, most likely I’ll end up writing a 3-page summary anyway. Also, I just know Miguel is going to have his notes and has probably already started writing his summary given he has Mr. Rouser on A days, and today is B days.

The only good thing about the A-day and B-day schedule is that we get an hour lunch, which is next period. Another thing that is so weird about 8th grade this year. Though I do understand the school admins are just preparing us for high school. Yeah, like I was looking forward to the end of school even though it was almost over. Then again no one knows that this is my last month.

Yep, in just 2 weeks I will be switching to home-school next month now that court is right around the corner. So, I won’t even be here for the end of the year, let alone graduation or any of the end of the year dances or activities. Nor do I even know what High school I will be going to next year. A lot of talk has been going around and I know they all mean well but am I ready to move on?

Stopping outside Ms. Fitch’s door I adjust my book-bag and take a breath or two before knocking. Ms. Fitch is the nicest teacher and one of my favorites, but it is still nerve wracking to change classes halfway through the period. I had her as a 6th grade teacher and I was so happy when she volunteered to be a study teacher this year.

“Now who do we have here?” Ms. Fitch asks as she flings her door open before I can even knock. Seeing me standing there, she smiles warmly at me before wrapping one of her arms around me and dragging me into her classroom. “Ok Merida, which idiot teacher decided this?” she asks as she walks me over to Miguel. Who, not surprisingly, is clearing the other half of the table that he once again took over, so I could sit at it and work beside him.

I gave her a smile, that I knew was more sad looking than an actual smile as I handed her the pass. “Mr. Rouser’s World history class.”

“Men! They never think it would be better to just wait till the end of class or down period in class to just ask if you need a break. No, they just decide to make a spectacle of it then and that’s it best if you leave because it would be ‘Best’. Like that helps!” Ms. Fitch mumbles as she crumples Mr. Rouser’s note before walking back to her desk. “I take it he also gave you work to do?” she asks as she sits at her desk.

I just nod my head. I’m so happy she never truly expects or demands me to answer and just accepts my silent answers or gestures, though if I am being honest {something I try to avoid these days} she always knows how I’m doing or what I am even feeling in the moment. Just another weird thing about my ever-changing strange life.

Plopping my history book and notebook on the table I start on the assignment, when I feel Miguel bump my shoulder. Looking over I see him tapping on his notebook, right next to a note.

‘Was it the same nightmare?’ just a simple sentence yet it meant everything. I look at Miguel as I circle the word nightmare and the question mark.

‘Yes and no.’ is my response. ‘I was startled before I could even realize I was in it!’ I underline startled twice so he understands that I was brought to before I gained awareness and tried to memorize it.

It’s the only thing I can say given I can’t really remember what I experienced. Yes, experienced because how else can you describe my nightmares? For I never remember them, no matter how hard I try too. It’s just something that I experienced; some dramatic, terrifying, or scary long forgotten memories.

Sometimes when I come to, I find myself crying and while other times I just feel completely drained. Like the dream itself killed me or something. Or worse I am screaming but that only happens when someone has touched me {a real miracle that didn’t happen today}. It’s weird and another thing that makes this year even worse.

*Don’t think about it too much girl. Just focus on your work! One day soon everything will be better.* Nadia whispers to me trying to help perk me up. *Look, Mi’s writing again.*

‘You want to come over after school?’ Miguel writes.

‘I was over yesterday and the day before! Will it be, ok?” I scrambled back.

‘You know my mom loves you. Plus, I’ll help you with history and math homework!’ He writes really enticing me to come.

I snorted as if I just knew this was going to happen. Looking up to give Miguel an actual smile of this awful day. How can it get any worse???