My gaze shifts from the paper to his soft hazel eyes, the colors mixing together in seamless transition. “I didn’t do this,” I echo in a desperate whisper.
He nods to indicate I’m doing well, a gentle, supportive smile pulling at his lips.
She laces her fingers together and leans forward, elbows braced on her desk. In a soothing voice, painfully reminiscent of the last time I was in this position, she asks, “Then why is it in your handwriting?”
“It’s what now?” Felix falters, looking back down to the paper in my hand.
I was too distracted by what the words said, to recognize my handwriting, but it does have a frightening resemblance to my own.How did she…?
“It’s not possible,” I whisper, clawed hands of disbelief and panic choking me. “I didn’t write this. Who told you I wrote this?”
“A concerned student turned this in and mentioned you by name, because they said they recognized your handwriting.” Sighing, she gazes at me like a person who refuses to see the truth right in front of her. “Other students came forward and reported that you filled your locker with these-- which were all taken from the rack out in the hallway.”
“But I didn’t,” I insist, fine tremors quaking through my body. More memories flood in-- the familiar desperation for someone to believe me making it difficult to breathe. “I didn’t do this to myself. I wouldn’t do this to myself!”
Felix waves a hand in front of my face to gain my attention-- his face is open with worry.He’s seeing the cracks, and he knows too much. I have to hold my shit together.
“It’s going to be okay,” he promises, letting his hand hover over my arm. “You’re not alone. I’m right here.”
It’s not going to be okay, my mind cries.I’ve seen how heavy my truth weighs on his shoulders. It’s too much. I’m too much. I can’t let him see how close I am to breaking.
I shift deeper into the chair to get some distance. When my arm goes through Felix, he falls back with shock painted across his features. He holds up his hand, staring at it oddly, like it’s something he no longer recognizes.Shit! What did I do to him now?
I hug myself tight, the pamphlet crushed in my hand, as I press my fingernails hard into the fleshy part of my palm, hoping the sharp bite of pain will help me focus.
“Callie,” Mrs. Cartwright says my name like the difficult student she thinks I am. “If you admit to what happened now, you won’t be in trouble.”
My necklace grows even hotter, and a rattling thunder echoes in the distance. Through gritted teeth, I grind out, “Who? Who was the person that said it was my writing? Who said I did this to myself? Because I didn’t, I swear. It was done to me!”
Felix comes back to himself, his gaze flashing to the window then back at me. “Whoa. Okay, pretty girl, breathe. Remember we’ve decided blowing up the town is bad.”
I try to breathe, but each breath feels trapped in my lungs. My dreams of Armageddon flash before my eyes, and anger tightens like a weight in my stomach along with drowning helplessness.
“The students asked to remain anonymous… for fear of repercussions… from you,” Mrs. Cartwright answers quietly, and I can only blink at her, because the words won’t compute in my head. “Callie, I can’t imagine how difficult your life is right now. What happened with your father, moving away from everything you know…”
“What do you mean about my father?” I exclaim, painful memories of all he did to me clawing through my brain.
Felix groans, running his hand through his hair, and under his breath, he mutters, “Seriously, woman? Did you have to bring up psycho dad?”
“I’ve read through some of the notes on your record from previous counselors,” she says, looking at me in earnest, unaware of the wound she’s digging into. “There are notes about how your father is in prison for the attempted abduction of a young woman. I did some research, and it looks like the trial was fairly public back in Phoenix.”
Right. That.The tremors quaking through my body grow, as too many thoughts and emotions twist inside me. Past and present overlap, and a red haze begins to take over.What he did to her, he goes to prison for, but he’ll never be held accountable for what he did to me.I crumple the pamphlet into a ball within my fist.No one seems to ever be held accountable for what they do to me.
“Noooooo. Stop now,” Felix pleads with Mrs. Cartwright like she can hear him. “This is bad. Very, very bad.”
Sure enough, the window starts to rattle from the heavy winds that blow against it, and I feel the riptide fighting to pull me under. Everything feels out of control, and I fear Donovan is wrong. I am broken.
“There also is a note that a few years ago… you were putting yourself in harm’s way to gather attention from your peers,” she continues, and the red haze grows. Mrs. Cartwright looks down at her desk for a moment, like she’s gathering strength. “Callie, this is very serious. I’ve also been informed that you’ve been using the threat of ending your life to manipulate others. Suicide isn’t a game. If you really feel you might end your life, then we need to set up a plan to get you the help you need. But-- and this is why I haven’t called in your aunt-- if this is you falling back into old destructive patterns, I want to give you the opportunity to come clean.”
“I didn’t fucking do any of this!” I scream, finally snapping, and leaping from my chair. Felix shifts out of the way quickly, like he’s frightened of me going through him again. “This is all Gina Reyes. She’s pissed off that her ex is friends with me, so she’s been spreading lies about me. Go ahead and ask him-- it’s Nolan Campbell. Ask him, and he’ll tell you that it’s not me.”
“Please sit down, Callie,” she asks, her patience beginning to strain.Yeah, fuck you, lady! You have no idea of the storm you’ve created.She sighs, when I continue to stand. “Ms. Reyes already came forward yesterday with her concerns regarding you two. She said you threatened to ‘take her down,’ and that you’ve been confrontational since learning of her past relationship with Mr. Campbell.”
“This can’t be happening. Crap like this only happens in movies,” Felix utters with the awe of someone watching a train wreck they can’t stop. He stares at Mrs. Cartwright dumbfounded, mouth hanging open and everything.
I want to laugh, because no level of crazy is out of reach for me anymore.
My heart is a frenzied jackhammer in my ears, because as bad as it was before, this is actually worse. Before, I believed that I had the shittiest luck of all time, and it was frustrating that no one believed me. But now magic is involved, something I can’t fight, and it’s more than simply no one believing me. It’s like my credibility ran into a giant iceberg when I wasn’t looking and there’s no room on the lifeboats.
